May
…
"What's everyone doing out here?" Jenna asks the men gathered around the TGS food station.
Toofer and Pete look guiltily toward her as if they've just been caught. Frank, however, easily spills the beans.
"We're hiding from Liz. She's in one of her, you know," Frank shrugs before pulling up the air quotes, "Moods."
"I fail to see how this is unusual, gentlemen," Jenna sniffs. She's been known to act bitter whenever someone else gets more attention than her. Liz, for obvious reasons, is that someone.
"Yeah, but things are even worse today," Toofer says in a loud whisper, as he looks around him to ensure the coast was clear. "Apparently, she and Jack have been fighting over the baby's name."
"But they don't even know the sex of the child yet! Otherwise, I would know," says Jenna incredulously.
"The baby's nickname," Pete clarifies. "Liz calls it, you know," he says, pointing at his abdomen while making a gesture for a pregnant belly, "'the baby,' but Jack insists that, you know," he says, repeating the gesture, "it's just a fetus in development. So he calls it 'the fetus.'"
Jenna rolls her eyes. She believes they should just call it 'Jenna', of course. And if it's a boy…well. 'Jenna' could still work. You never know.
"Nice to see you all working," Liz says, surprising the group with her presence. She puts her hands on her hips, and everyone's eyes immediately move to her slightly protruding midsection.
"Liz, hi! How are those hormones treating you there?" Jenna asks eagerly.
Liz glares at her friend while the group attempts to hide behind the only woman brave enough to address the expectant mother.
"Why are you all staring at me? I believe you should be at rehearsal," Liz snaps.
"We're going, we're going…" they grumble.
Liz turns to pour some stupid decaf coffee, and feels the blonde's eyes on her.
"Liz, are you alright?" Jenna asks softly.
"I'm fine," she spits as she slams the coffee pot back down on the counter.
"Ooookay. Here's the cream," Jenna says, passing her the container.
The angry expression on Liz's face crumples, leaving Jenna completely off guard.
"Oh, Liz, don't cry," Jenna says as she engulfs her friend in a hug.
Liz continues to sob as they embrace. "I don't deserve a friend like you, Jenna."
"Aww, Liz," Jenna soothes. "It was just cream."
"But you know things, like the fact I like cream in my coffee. You're just… a really awesome friend," Liz says sincerely as she pulls back from their hug to wipe the tears from her face.
"Thank you, I just got it cut!" Jenna fluffs her hair.
Liz turns back to the counter and looks at her cup of coffee before pouring the cream into it. "Jenna?"
"What?"
"I really hate decaf," she manages, before setting down the cream to burst into tears.
…
"Lemon, are you ready? We'll be late for the party," Jack calls from the living room.
This is not the first of Hank Hooper's birthday parties that Jack's attended, but it will be the first time he presents his relationship with Liz to his boss. It is important to make a good impression; possibly, their future at the company depends on it.
"Almost!" She calls back. Liz is having a hard time trying to zip up her dress. She's been putting off shopping for maternity clothes as long as possible, but lately, finding clothes of hers that still fit is becoming a big problem. "Jack?"
"Yes?" He answers, walking into the bedroom.
"Can you help me with my dress, please?" Her head pops out of the bathroom. "I can't zip it up."
"Sure."
Jack steps into the room and glances at the pile of rejected dresses lying on the bed.
"Having trouble with the clothing?" He asks amusedly, nodding at the messy bed.
"I need to buy new clothes," she sighs. "The only pants that fit me are sweats. I'm huge."
"You're not huge," Jack soothes.
He eyes her up and down before he can help himself; after all, she is practically bursting out the top of her dress. Her bump is showing, but not enough to be the reason that the dress doesn't fit.
"You look fine. Just leave the back unzipped, and wear a jacket," he says matter-of-factly, trying not to ogle.
"I guess that would work," she mumbles, and looks in the mirror. "Look at my boobs, Jack… No wonder I'm having a hard time trying to zip up this dress!"
Liz purses her lips disapprovingly while he "looks".
"Hmm. Perhaps you should change. It's probably not a good idea to hit Hank with everything at once," he says in a strangled tone.
"This sucks."
Jack ignores her, and moves to slide one of her straps down. She gasps, but doesn't protest when he begins kissing her neck and muttering.
"Hank will have another party next year, Lemon."
…
Life has its ups and downs, but for Jack, there isn't a word in the English dictionary that is strong enough to describe the hate that accompanies the process of dealing with his ex-wives.
On a sunny spring afternoon, he kisses Avery on the cheek out of politeness. The café's hostess hands them menus, then exits.
"Thanks for coming, Jack," she says lightly.
They sit.
"What do you want, Avery?" Jack's tone is direct, but not angry.
"Good to see you, too. You look well."
Avery smiles, amused at his obvious discomfort.
"I came back to tie up some loose ends."
"I'm hardly a loose end."
"I didn't say you were."
She traces a finger along the leather menu. Jack is not in the mood for small talk, and he hopes she gets right to the point. He is getting married tomorrow, and wants this over with.
"Jack, I've been thinking and...I realize I sent you some mixed signals. I shouldn't have married you so quickly, knowing how you felt about commitments…" She straightens the silverware in front of her. "Anyway, I have taken a position in Philadelphia, which is only an hour away by plane and I just thought...maybe we could start over."
Jack looks out the window, half-expecting to see Elisa strolling up with a pair of tickets to Puerto Rico. He's almost angry at Avery's nerve, until he realizes that he doesn't care enough to be angry.
"Avery," he says, turning back to look at her, "There is nothing to start over. We are divorced."
"Oh." She nods her magnificent blond head down at the table again. "Have you met someone else?"
"That's not the point." It isn't. The choice isn't between Avery and Liz; it never was. That had been his mistake before; thinking he had to choose between the two, when the real choice was to stop fooling himself or not. Even if the last few months had never happened, even if he and Liz had never gotten their mutual act together, he would still be looking at Avery and telling her no. Because he'd rather be alone than be with someone he didn't love enough.
"Well," Avery says, fussing with her purse. "I guess there's not much point in sticking around for lunch, is there?"
"I suppose not."
She pauses.
"Jack?"
"Yes?"
"I…it's Liz, isn't it?"
He sighs. "It isn't really your business, Avery, but yes."
She nods to herself. On some level, she's always known. It still hurts, though.
…
"Nice to see you've finally put that baby bucket to use, Liz."
"Hi, Colleen. So glad you could make it," Liz says cheerfully, kissing her future mother-in-law on the cheek.
At seven AM on the dot, Jack's mother has arrived with the usual bang, entering their apartment with a trail of help behind her: two nervous bellboys, a cab driver in a foul mood ("That luggage is Vuitton, darling, do not drag it,") and the wedding planner, a young woman named Alana.
"Mother, please, don't start." He waves the party into the apartment, and Colleen promptly begins pinching Liz's face in various places, muttering not-so-quietly about how Liz could use a good chemical peel.
"Good morning, everyone. The flowers are being finished as we speak, thank God." Alana presses a finger to the device in her ear. "Oh, the caterers have just arrived, and Liz, your prep team is on the way over here. Now is the time to finish your morning routine, if you so desire."
Liz opens her mouth to ask exactly what she is in for, when Colleen gets a devious look on her face.
"I will help Liz get ready," she announces.
With surprising strength, Colleen drags Liz (who mouths 'help me') to the bedroom.
…
She is radiant.
There is a roomful of people, but for Jack, there is only her.
Chestnut hair arranged in a glossy chignon. Soft tendrils cascading around her face.
A white dress that flows over her curves, accentuating her bump.
Tightly holding a bouquet of white lilies; nervous, but not afraid.
Finally, the gold 'L' charm around her neck.
A few more minutes, and she is in his arms. Jack supposes that the priest is saying something, but he barely pays attention until the important part. They say their I dos, and he bends Elizabeth Lemon-Donaghy backward into a sweeping kiss. Her smile mirrors his own.
…
A beaming (and slightly intoxicated) Jenna steps up onto the platform with the band. She silences the chatty wedding guests with an enthusiastic clink of her glass, and opens her mouth.
"Welcome, guests of the Liz-slash-Jack wedding that we've waited for so long. I know, I know, it's usually the best man who gives these speeches, but, well, Kenneth just sucks at public speaking."
A cheerful "Hey!" is heard from across the room as Kenneth unconvincingly fakes offense.
"...And I'm way more charismatic." She smiles even bigger before continuing on a different note. "This weirdness kind of fits, in a way. Because let's face it, Jack and Liz have never had a normal relationship. Sure, it was full of subtle touches, midnight takeout, and 'budget meetings'." She briefly takes her hands off her champagne glass and sets it on the table next to her to make air-quotes. "That's right, don't think I don't know."
Jack and Liz laugh quietly and grasp the other's hand tighter, silently agreeing to block Jenna's access to the security room.
The blond shifts on her heels, and continues, "And let us not forget the eye sex..."
"Jenna," Liz says warningly. Her friend is clearly a little drunk. She could say anything and everything.
"Sorry," she says, before turning her attention back to the wedding attendees.
"But these two have gone to amazing lengths for each other, despite Liz's laziness. Jack, may you and my best friend have a very long and happy marriage."
Jenna raises her glass in a toast to the bride and groom and drains it expertly. Jack signals to the band, and Jenna is whisked away from the stage to save them all from having to hear her sing.
…
"Jack!" Liz half-gasps, half-giggles. "You're gonna drop me."
"You know I'm not."
"Well, I've been wrong before," Liz says, rolling her eyes.
Jack smirks as he crosses the threshold into their ridiculously expensive hotel room. "Oh, believe me," he says sultrily, a hand caressing the back of her thigh and inching under her gauzy dress. "You are not wrong tonight."
Liz's head spins. She can't really say it's due to alcohol, because she hasn't had more than a sip of champagne at the reception. What she can attest to is the heat between her thighs and her skyrocketing arousal.
Jack carries her through the dim rooms, finally reaching the master suite. He lays her gently on the bed, where she immediately rids her aching feet of the four-inch stilettos. When she sits back, Liz's dress extends around her, giving Jack the impression of a beautiful white flower.
"I'm almost ready," she begins with a smile, inviting his curiosity.
"Almost?"
It takes some effort for her to shift on the bed until her back is to him. His eyes comb over the intricate lace ties that support the tight bodice, and he slowly lets out a breath. One dark lock has escaped from its elegant twist, and Jack lifts it delicately around to her front, letting his fingertips linger at the nape of her neck. Liz shivers involuntarily and must work to keep her voice even.
"Yep. I can't breathe. Will you, um, help me out of this thing?"
"Of course."
He starts upon the ties, taking his time. He wants to cherish this. The wait is painful for him, but in a good way. There is no need to rush what is yet to come. His new wife seems to understand; the room holds no sound besides their breathing, for she sits entirely still during his movements.
When he pulls the last ribbon, her breath hitches in her throat as the fabric relaxes slightly around her torso. She turns back around, and the stiff material clings loosely to her curves. He reaches out and she nods, allowing him to lift the gown over her head. He delivers it to the chair in the corner, laying it with the same care that he had given its owner.
When he returns to the bed, Liz is waiting in a tasteful set of cream-colored lingerie. She's pulled the pins from her hair, and the curls have arranged themselves in their usual bob. This familiar image calms Jack, and he deftly removes his tuxedo after allowing her to undo his bow tie.
"I love you, Lemon," he says.
"I love you too, Jack."
Once he is settled on the bed, he presses a tiny kiss to her gently rounded stomach, and she enjoys the tingle that arises at the touch of his lips. He pauses to take her in, considering the subtle yet apparent changes in Liz's body. Tonight, he is making love to his wife, but it is the hope and promise that she carries in her womb that makes the situation impossibly special.
His hands roam over her marginally widened hips; his lips brush her enlarged breasts. She moans quietly at his entrance, giving into louder cries as he thrusts inside her. This time, collapsing is simultaneous, and the action completes their unity. They sigh together, whispering remarks of adoration. The night has exceeded their wildest thoughts, and they slide into sleep without difficulty.
Every now and then, it's okay to hold fast to dreams.
…
The newlyweds decide that a honeymoon is pointless (they are, after all, married to their jobs first), and they return to work after a weekend off. Several days later, the wedding is all but forgotten when they remember that a baby is coming.
"So… that name's off the list, right?" Liz says over the dinner table. A newspaper and yellow memo pad sit in front of her, and she tries not to get pizza on them.
"Very much so, Lemon."
"From what I got reading this article, naming your daughter 'Tracy' automatically increases the likelihood that she'll become a hooker."
"Lemon, the way a child is raised and nurtured in this world has more to do with their eventual career path and life decisions. Just because most of the prostitutes involved in this case were named Tracy, doesn't mean all children named Tracy will become prostitutes. Furthermore, the New York Times is hardly a reliable news source." He takes a sip of scotch.
"Fifteen."
"What?"
"Fifteen prostitutes all named Tracy. And here, two women named 'Candi.' Candi with an 'I'."
"Did you hear what I said?"
Liz rolls her eyes. "Yes, I'm ignoring it. Hold on, let me find this bit…okay, here. Penelope is sort of the odd one out; her name is different. Nonetheless, Penelope is off the list too."
"Was Penelope ever on the list of names we were considering for her?" he asks, nodding toward his wife's abdomen.
"Yes…I'm more concerned about the fact that Tracy is on this list."
"How did Tracy get on the list?"
"I believe it was added by…Tracy. He must have found it the other day."
"I see."
She takes a bite of pizza, and chews thoughtfully while she consults the list. "That leaves us with Jacklyn, Elizabeth II, Leia, and Alice."
"Obviously, I'm favorable towards the first one. But I quite like 'Alice'."
"Wait, really? That's my favorite one."
Jack smiles, considering. "Yes. I think it would suit her nicely."
"Oh my god, did we just name our kid?"
"Don't act so surprised. We often agree, Lemon."
She looks down at the pizza in the box: half-extra-cheese, half-pepperoni.
"Dream on, Jack."
…
Sometimes, when you love, the words are not nearly as important as the actions.
She's curled into his body, back-to-chest, his arm wrapped around her and his large, warm hand resting protectively across her slightly rounded stomach. There is no movement, save the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes rhythmically in the early morning light, but he knows from experience that sometime soon he will feel an answering push from inside as he rubs soft circles from without. That thought, that milestone to look forward to, serves to ease the slight tension he can feel between his shoulder blades when lets himself worry about the future.
He starts to think that he'll be able to raise a child. Truly, he has learned from his parents' mistakes, and of course, his own. Some paternal instinct is at play, and he realizes that he wants to raise a child for reasons outside of making his wife happy. He can picture himself holding a baby girl, holding their baby girl, and it seems right. Suddenly, he cannot wait to meet his daughter.
In her sleep, she sighs and turns her body slightly outward, her shoulder brushing his chin as he holds her close. He smiles into her hair and returns to his absent caress of her abdomen.
While in another time, another place, with another woman he wouldn't have been satisfied with such limitations, this moment is not an impediment to what he's always thought he wanted and needed. It's true and comfortable and real.
And it's a freedom unlike any he's never known.
…