SEASON 3: Mars Landing

It was two a.m. after a long day of moving in the new neighbors and Nick and Jess setting the building on fire (heathens), but by now the loft was silent and everyone was asleep. Schmidt was caressing his pillow, dreaming about Cece, when his bedroom door opened quickly and slammed shut, and he opened his eyes just enough to vaguely see a small, shuddering figure lean against it. "What the-" he was interrupted when the figure let out a long, annoyingly high-pitched scream.

"AHHHHHH!"

He didn't know what was happening, but suddenly he was yelling back and then so did the voice and then so did he, again; he sat up in bed, essentially playing scream-tennis with the figure leaning against the door, and oh God, why did it take him so long to figure out who it was? Who else would be doing this?

"JESS! what are you doing!?"

"I keep forgetting you're in here! sorry Schmidt, I'll just…" she gripped the doorknob like she was going to leave, but just stood there, feet unwilling to move. It was then that he looked at her face and noticed the tears running down her cheeks.

"Jess, if you wanted to sleep with me, all you had to do was say so. You don't have to sneak in during the middle of the night." She laughed a little at this, and he noticed that her smile didn't reach her eyes, but he thought that he was on his way to cheering her up. Whatever problem it was that had her breaking into his bedroom at two o'clock in the morning obviously wasn't too bad, if he already got a giggle out of her. "Seriously girl, just break up with Nick and I'm yours."

A pause, and then "abort, abort, abort," his brain screamed as he watched Jess dissolve into loud, messy, heartbreaking sobs. She clumsily fell to the floor, clutching her knees close to her chest as she pressed herself into the corner of the room and cried into her hands. Schmidt's stomach jumped into his throat and his eyes grew wide as he took in the scene before him. "Whoa Jess, I'm sorry. What did I say?"

His mind finally caught up with him and he slid off the bed, sitting down against the door beside her. He tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder, and she immediately nuzzled into his side. He couldn't think of anything to do or say, he knew that she just had to let it all out before she could think coherently, so he just held her. After sitting together for a while, the only sound in the room coming from her cries and mumbles of "Nick", she started grabbing at the skin on his chest, pinching the air surrounding him as if she was looking for something.

"...Where's your shirt?"

"What about me makes you think I sleep with a shirt on? Besides, what were you going to do, wipe your eyes and blow your nose on my pajamas? Disgusting! Here," he shifted away from her and reached into the drawer of his nightstand. "Take one of my 900-thread count handkerchiefs."

"900-thread cou- OH MY GOD it's like a cloud!"

"You can burn that when you're done, by the way." They sat together like that, her head buried in his chest and him rubbing her back, pushing her hair out of his face whenever she moved. Neither dared to break the silence, wanting to savor this moment before they had to talk and she would inevitably start crying again. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, but closed it again when he realized he didn't know what to say.

"You had a pretty big fight, huh?" he murmured, and she sniffled against his chest. "It's gonna be okay Jess. We both know you guys will make up with some disgustingly loud morning sex and everything will be back to normal."

"No. Schmidt, we-" she took a breath, as if she was steeling herself for what she was about to say. "We broke up."

He felt the shock ripple through his body before he realized he'd stopped breathing. "Jess," he said, his voice coming out a whisper. "Nick is my best friend, and he and Winston have known each other forever. But, I promise, we'll be there for you too." He felt her fingers on his waist tighten as she hugged him closer and he smiled into her hair.

"So, what do you need? Tea? Ice cream? Wanna watch Dirty Dancing on my laptop?" She sniffled and wiped her nose on the handkerchief again, before looking up at him with a small, watery smile.

"All three?"

"Sounds great."

Schmidt went into the kitchen, taking care to make sure his other roommates were still, somehow, asleep (one in particular). He gathered all of their food supplies, and grabbed the movie off of the bookshelf in the living room before heading back into his room. Jess had moved off the floor and was now laying on his bed, her eyes were closed and he thought for a minute that she was asleep, but then her eyes snapped open with fervor and she made room for him to sit beside her. Handing her the ice cream bowl, he placed the DVD into his laptop and set it up at the foot of his bed. He smiled at her, she simply raised her head and glanced at him in return, and he pressed play.

...

The movie was long forgotten. It played in the background, but neither Schmidt nor Jess were paying any attention to what was happening on the screen. They stayed up talking, facing each other sitting cross-legged on his -her?- bed. He tried to make her laugh and she did a few times, weak ones like she was faking it, but it was better than nothing (and better than crying). He couldn't believe that she and Nick had broken up only a few hours before, and yet she was here with him, watching Dirty Dancing but not, listening to him talk and joke and try to take her mind off of it. He tried not to think about it either; he was sad for Nick and sad for Jess and honestly, a little sad for himself, but he couldn't dwell on it because she wasn't sobbing anymore and that was good. He didn't pry, didn't ask questions (though he wanted to), didn't even text Cece to let her know what was going on or ask what to do. He was simply there: being someone she could laugh with and hold onto and she got a little overwhelmed with how nice it felt to be his friend. The penultimate scene of the film came on, and she gazed at the screen while "Time of Your Life" played in the background, fresh tears springing to her eyes. He flashed back to the weekend that Jess moved in; Nick dragging them to some pretentious (and that's saying something coming from Schmidt) restaurant to rescue her from being stood up. Nick had started singing to her, and he and Coach reluctantly joined in, their confidence (and volume) growing when they saw the smile dancing on her face. Schmidt looked from the laptop screen back to her face and knew she was reliving it too. Nick had always felt something for Jess; Schmidt had suspected it the minute she walked through the door and knew with absolute certainty that night Nick sang to her. How could that dummy have screwed this up?

"Hey Jess, remember that time we watched Curly Sue and I made you swear not to tell the guys on threat of death?"

She nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on the movie playing at the end of his bed. He shook his head to himself (was he really doing this?), sat up straighter and took a deep breath before singing the first line of "You Never Know."

"Life goes on, no one gets rehearsals," he warbled, swallowing hard before finding his voice. "Life goes on, through every day reversals. With every dawn, every day is full of chances to find some good before it's gooooooooone!"

Her eyes grew wide and a small smile played on her lips. She laughed, a real Jess laugh, one that bounced around the room and settled in his ears. She started humming with him, filling in the words when he forgot, and soon they were both singing at the top of their lungs, drowning out the television and making her forget "Time of Your Life." (He hoped that Nick wouldn't wake up.) When they finished, with jazz hands of course, she fell back onto the pillows with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. He grinned down at her and watched her expression change as she remembered why she was laying here with him. He wished the happy moment could have lingered, but this was Jess, she wore her heart on her sleeve and cried thirteen times a day over superficial things. Of course this was going to hurt more.

"He didn't see a future with me."

Schmidt didn't respond, or rather, couldn't, because he didn't believe what she said. There was no way that was the reason they broke up… right? Nick couldn't have said that, the dope was obviously in love with her. What the hell was she talking about? Before he could interrupt and say something probably stupid, she spoke again.

"I think we're just too different. Nick doesn't like to worry about the future, or anything, and that's all I do, Schmidt! That's literally all I ever do. I asked him if he thought about our future, and he didn't answer me. Couldn't. Because, he doesn't. I love him, Schmidt. I know he loves me. But we can't stay together if we want different things."

Schmidt opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. Honestly, he didn't know what to think. Nick has always been a serial monogamist, he fell hard and deep and never more so than with Jess. He's always loyal to his family, and friends who became family, almost to a fault. Sure, he was a little afraid of commitment and scared to take big steps, but Schmidt thought that Jess had changed all of that. Maybe those fears ran deeper than he or even Nick had known. Schmidt knew that Nick was afraid to end up like his old man (something they had in common), but was that enough for him to run from Jess and his future with her? Schmidt looked down at Jess and she was staring back at him, waiting for him to deny (or confirm) what she had said. He gave her a soft smile and laid back on the pillows beside her.

"I'm sorry Jess," he began, staring at the ceiling. "I don't know what to say. Nick's the dumbest boy in school." She laughed a little and rolled onto her back until she was staring at the ceiling too, both of them finding patterns within the textures until he broke the silence. "But, so are you if you really think he's in a different place than you are." He heard her suck in a breath but didn't respond, so he continued. "I've known Nick for a long time, and I can tell there's no one he'd rather have a white-picket fence with than you."

He stole a secret glance at her, tears threatening to spill from her eyes again until she closed them tight with certainty. She looked over at him and pressed her lips together, as if she was debating what to say.

"Thank you, Schmidt. But if he can't tell me that himself, it doesn't really change things, does it?"

He laid his head back down on the pillow, opening his arms to her as she curled her small body into his. He let her cry until she couldn't anymore (how she still had any tears left at all, he didn't know), and when she was done, he pulled away and offered her the damp handkerchief once again. She took it, laughing a little, and wiped her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Schmidt. I didn't mean to keep you up all night. I was just feeling sad and drained and... I really, really wanted to sleep in my own bed."

With that, he stood and grabbed one of his pillows and a blanket from the closet. "Well Jessica, it's yours for the night. I'll take the couch."

"What? No, Schmidt. This is your room now. I can sleep on the couch, or go back to the floor in Nick's room…"

"Jess please, I insist. Now stop arguing with me so I can try to get some sleep. God woman, keeping me up all hours of the night. With no sexual reward, mind you. Downright unthoughtful." He smirked at her, and she gave him a soft smile back, standing and pressing her lips against his cheek.

"Thank you."

"For the bed?"

"Yeah, and for... everything."

okay, okay... I guess this one doesn't fit within canon, since we know that Schmidt doesn't find out they broke up until the next day. but maybe we can all pretend he's a really good actor when Cece tells him? ;) this one was really hard for me to write (mentally and emotionally haha), so hopefully it all came together well. thanks for reading! I haven't replied to any reviews, but I REALLY appreciate them! :D