Title: The Three Paths of Jack Donaghy

Author: Mindy

Rating: T, sexual references

Please see first chapter for rest.

III.

Your love got big, your jokes got worse each afternoon

Like bacon at a barmitzvah, like a lead balloon

And who's to say what really happened in that room

Each day I was looking for a bride, you were looking for a groom.

So for once in our lives we saw what we wanted and took a bite

We picked the fruit from the tree and it was ripe.

Their wedding day was one of the happiest days of their life together.

After the whole Avery vs Nancy debacle came to a natural conclusion, Jack swore off love, swore off dating and most drastically, he swore off sex. Lemon was insultingly sceptical of his resolve. But for once, he kept his vow. Prompting this unshakeable resolve was Avery's admission that the baby she was carrying had merely been a figment of her hormonal imagination. Her once-a-year period had made her irrational, she'd explained to him, territorial, insane. She'd wanted to secure his affections, secure their future. Initially, Jack was rather flattered by her ruthlessness in pursuing him. And as they had both made major mistakes - and as Nancy had already returned to Boston – he and Avery embarked on a fresh start. A new, honest, committed relationship. It lasted all of two weeks. Removing the drama, that excruciating equivocation, from their relationship had killed its appeal. Yet, it also left Jack longing for a love that was more simple. Love that was drama-free and completely honest from the beginning. Frankly, the whole experience had left him disillusioned and disorientated. Which was why he decided to take himself off the market. At least until he found something that was worth risking everything for.

It was during this time that an excited Lemon had hooked up with Carol on a semi-serious basis. She'd started telling Jack about her new relationship, started referring to her pilot man as "boyfriend", started informing Jack of when he was flying in or out of New York City. Not that Jack was paying very much attention in the aftermath of his break-up with Nancy, and then Avery. After which there was the daunting reality of his new sexless, lonely existence to deal with. Fortunately, Lemon did prove to be an amusing distraction at such times. She had a way of making him talk even when he didn't want to, of making him laugh even when he didn't feel like it, making him participate in life without realizing that's what they were doing.

At some juncture in the last year or so, he wasn't sure when or why, they'd started growing steadily apart. He only really saw it in retrospect. In the few years they'd known each other, they'd become so close. Perhaps too close, too familiar. Perhaps that was why one or both of them felt the instinctive need to step back, to seek that intimacy elsewhere, to place distance where none was formerly necessary. Jack had to wonder whether it was he who was guilty of instigating this pulling-back process, without being aware of doing so. And whether Lemon had just fallen into step. But whatever had occurred in the recent past, however far he and Lemon had drifted in separate directions, by their own volition or not, when they came back together, it was quickly and easily. They'd navigated the territory before, dancing around each other for the first year of their acquaintance. There was no need to build trust or establish a rapport. All that was already there. It was more like a rediscovery. A fun realization that their particular thing - whatever it was - had always been there. All they needed to do was remember the timing. The stranger thing was that as that old, odd spark returned to their friendship, Jack felt something else accompany it. Something that may always have been present but never as strong. Something he'd never been able to properly identify or perhaps hadn't wanted to. And with their swift reconnection, it flared back to life, bigger and brighter and more palpable than ever.

It was as they were both settling back into this new, old intimacy and as Jack was starting to see Liz Lemon in a new light that she came to him one morning and told him she was leaving. Leaving TGS, leaving New York, leaving him. Up until then Liz's relationship with Carol had not encroached upon their friendship. Her boyfriend was in and out of town so frequently that Jack often felt he was still the most important and consistent man in her life. Which was how he had always preferred it. They'd discussed her relationship of course. But it always remained on the outskirts of his awareness. He was the one who supported, encouraged and advised her. Carol just blew into town and had quick sex with her before falling asleep. Sometimes he just crashed in her bed while she watched TV. Then they would have a few days to catch up, get food into the kitchen and eat it all while watching the programs she'd TiVOed for him. Then he was off again. It suited Lemon, who preferred infrequent intercourse, synchronized binge eating and plenty of alone time. Especially since the bulk of her hours were spent at work. But when Carol was transferred to California, she was determined not to make the same mistake she'd made with Floyd.

Jack was gutted by her decision. Though he did his best not to show his true reaction. He made himself respond with breezy indifference and false encouragement. Not that Liz totally bought his act. He didn't buy it himself and could hardly expect her to, considering how close they'd grown. Still, he kept up the pretence until he found out the real reason she was following Carol. She was pregnant. Barely. And accidentally. But ecstatic. And pregnant. Lemon. Liz. With child. And that changed everything. With one word, Jack's world tilted slightly. The instant he found out, he started viewing her differently. He started looking at her body, imaging it swelling with a blonde, blue-eyed baby wearing a tiny pilot's hat. He imagined her holding this baby, rocking it, smiling at it, singing to it, with Carol at her side, all of them tanned from the California sun. He imagined her with blonding hair, wearing contact lenses and colourful muumuus, surrounded by little airline brats. Jack started guiding her off elevators, opening doors for her and taking junk food out of her hands before she could bite into it. Liz told him to cut it out. She didn't want anyone to know until she was further along. She hadn't even told her chronically absent boyfriend yet.

Carol was out of town when she lost the baby. He was in the air, somewhere over Arkansas when Liz miscarried at eight weeks. She called Jack. He took her home from the hospital, silently followed her into her apartment, waited for her to stop babbling and start crying. Which she did. He'd never actually seen Lemon cry. Not really, truly cry. In fact, he'd never seen anyone cry like she cried that night. Sobbing like a child, soaking his shirt, fisting his clothes in white-knuckled hands. He rocked her. He held her. And when she'd cried herself into a miserable semi-slumber, Jack reclined them on the sofa and let her rest against him. Her grip loosened, her breath calmed. They stayed like that for nearly an hour before Jack rose and carried her to her bed.

Two weeks later, Liz broke up with Carol. She told Jack the reality didn't compare to the fantasy. She said she wanted a real life with someone, not half a life. Jack waited another two weeks. Then he took his chance. Late one night, he went down to her office, stood in the doorway until she looked up. And when she did, he told her to grab her coat and come with him. He took her up to the deserted, darkened Observation Deck that overlooked the glittering city. And that's where he kissed her, both hands cupping her wind-chilled face as her knees quite literally went weak. Jack knew that night that he wanted to marry Lemon. But he waited until much later to ask her.

They started talking about marriage fairly early into their new relationship. Like everything between him and Liz, it just happened naturally. They already knew what each other wanted, they both guessed that's where they were headed. Mostly, they discussed it in bed at the end of the day with the TV mumbling in the background. It had become Jack's favorite part of the day. The hour before they went to sleep. They'd watch the news, disparage each other's political leanings. Lemon might test on him a few lines of a sketch she was working on, Jack might tell her about his newest business venture. Sometimes they'd make love. Or have hot, quick sex. Sometimes he was content with the way Liz snuggled up to his side under the warm covers. Sometimes he would mute the television just to listen to her breath, her light snoring. Something about it made his heart expand.

Jack was surprised by how much he liked spending time at Liz's place, how instantly comfortable he was there. It was smaller and much messier. But there were certain advantages. Everything was much closer at hand, including his woman. The atmosphere was warmer and cozier, the food was better. And there was no need to worry about pesky servants interrupting if they wanted to make love on the sofa or on the kitchen counter or against the front door. Which they did. Frequently. As well as making love in more traditional places like the bed and, his personal favorite, the shower. So when it came time to discuss living arrangements, the conclusion was easy and obvious. He no longer needed a sophisticated bachelor pad. He no longer needed all those floors to lose himself in. He wanted a home. He wanted a family, something to come home to. So they would renovate and decorate the two unfinished apartments Liz had purchased. Together they could make them into the home they both longed for and could both be comfortable in. It took a long while for Jack's place to sell, one floor at a time. But once they did, he put most of the proceeds into a trust fund for their offspring. A smaller slice purchased Liz's wedding present.

Whenever they talked about marriage, it was all very practical and non-romantic. It was generally about the whens and whos and hows. They were all set on the whys. On the whys, they were good, on both sides. Often Liz would end their discussion by shrugging and yawning and saying she didn't care about the actual wedding. She just wanted to be married. Jack added the "to you" in his head because he knew that's what she meant. Having been married once already and engaged a number of times though, he was rather wary of her relaxed attitude regarding their prospective nuptials. Every woman had a vision for her wedding. Even the unconventional type like Lemon. As far as he was aware, every single woman wanted something special on her wedding day, even if she wasn't aware of what it was. She would know it – as would her groom – if she didn't get it. So he was surprised when Liz decided to put her ham napkin up for auction online. She said it was no big deal, she said that it reminded her of how desperate she'd been. She said she'd bought it for the wrong reasons, she'd had an unrealistic fantasy about marriage and weddings. Jack told her that fantasies were not so terrible, at least, not if they only lasted a day. He would be happy to give her the fantasy. If it was what she wanted. But Liz insisted the dress was symbolic of…something. They watched the price climb higher and higher on her dress until eventually, it sold.

With the money from her ham napkin, Liz bought tins of paint and started painting the upstairs bedrooms. Or what would become the upstairs bedrooms. During the show's hiatus she went on renovation frenzy. She wouldn't consider setting a date until the apartment was complete. But when he came home one afternoon, finding her up a ladder, food wrappers strewn over the old-sheet-covered floor and paint flecks covering her hair and face and clothes, Jack couldn't help himself. He couldn't hold it in. He said the words. "Let's get married." Liz snorted and told him she was a bit busy right then. Jack went over to the ladder, telling her he didn't care about having a big fancy wedding either. He just wanted her. He wanted her as his. He wanted a life with her. He loved her and would she marry him the very next weekend at City Hall. Liz smiled at him and came down a few steps. She said yes three times then kissed him. Then Jack took her to the shower where he washed the paint off her, kissed her wet body all over and made her cry out when he moved inside her.

The morning of their wedding Jack woke with one of her legs twisted round his and her dishevelled head wedged in his armpit. Liz woke with his head under her t-shirt and his lips closing around one nipple. Despite telling him they didn't have time for their usual round of morning making-out, she arched into him and allowed him to continue. Despite the fact that Jack was due to pick up her parents in less than an hour, she lifted her legs and let him take his time going down on her. And despite the fact that they had somewhere pretty pressing to be that day, she climbed on top of him, sank down on him then kissed him before they both began to move. Liz was still in her pjs when he left to go collect her parents. He kissed her goodbye at the door and told her he'd see her at City Hall.

Of course, they weren't going to get married at City Hall. Jack had other plans. By the time Liz arrived at City Hall with Jenna, there was a white car waiting at the curb. With a secretive grin, Jenna ushered her in and the car took them straight to Rockefeller Center. Befuddled, Liz was led into Jenna's dressing room where her ham napkin was waiting for her. Cerie had had the dress taken up at the hem and had chosen shoes in her size. Jenna had chosen the underwear, which Liz flatly refused to wear. Cerie and Jenna had also arranged for their own bridesmaid dresses, both in the same style but Jenna in red and Cerie in yellow. Jenna also enlisted a fabulous stylist friend to do Liz's makeup and hair. While she was having her hair pulled into a loose, low bun, her wedding bouquet arrived. It was small, simple, stylish, made with red and yellow and white roses. Red for love, yellow for friendship, white for marriage. Tucked inside was a note from Jack: The last lie I'll ever tell. Promise. Meet me on the roof in ten.

It took a little longer than ten minutes but Liz met him on top of The Rock where all their friends and family were gathered and the sun was high in the sky and the iron balustrades had been draped in white. They were married on the same spot where they first kissed, by Milton, who apparently was authorized to oversee such occasions. Jack had prepared his own vows while Frank and Pete had collaborated on something for Liz just in case she was lost for words. Halfway through reading these though, she scrunched up the piece of paper and threw it at Frank's face, opting to go solo. She did alright for someone put on the spot. But then words were her living and Jack could hardly expect perfect eloquence from someone who hadn't known of her own wedding plans. After they were declared husband and wife, there were drinks and hugs as Liz caught up with everyone she didn't know would be in attendance. Jenna sang every love song in her repetoir, her mother joining her for a few of them. And despite the sickening soundtrack, Jack couldn't stop looking at, smiling at, touching his new wife who didn't seem to mind his little deception at all.

Liz's wedding present was a little place in the Berkshires, which was where they retired to after a lavish lunch. Jack had furnished the place with a massive four-posted bed, a heavy, hardwood writing desk and the best television money could buy. For two weeks, they (he) cooked, they watched movies, read the paper (Jack the business and sports sections, Liz the arts and kiddy sections) and made excellent use of the hardy, broad, soft bed. It was where they spent the majority of their honeymoon. Until a phone call late one morning brought them back to reality and back to New York. All this time, Liz's adoption applications had been circulating the various agencies, mostly gathering nothing but dust. She'd long since given up hope of a real response. But some kind soul had seen her wedding announcement in the paper and wondered whether the new couple might wish to adopt a 6-month-old called Joy who needed a loving home urgently. There would be extra paperwork due to her changed circumstances and they could have some time to think about it. But if they wished, the baby could be theirs in a little over three weeks. After Liz got off the phone with the agency, they thought about it all afternoon. They talked through every aspect of the decision. But in the end, they both agreed that there was no decision to make. The answer was obvious.

The next morning they returned to the city to get the apartment ready. The second bedroom room was painted but empty. They bought a cot and change table and toys and clothes and everything else they might need. They moved their bedroom upstairs, next to the baby's and baby-proofed the entire place. They filled out endless forms and passed each home inspection and after three weeks of nervous waiting and hasty preparation, they went to meet their new daughter. From that day onward, they were parents. Their lives were filled with warm bottles and nap times and walks in the park and proud photographs. And vomit and poop and insomnia. Liz took an indefinite leave of absence from work to spend time with Joy, to bond with her, make her feel safe and secure. And Jack came home early every chance he could get, walking into his half-finished apartment to find his new, instant family. For him and his baby daughter, it was love at first sight. He'd never been so infatuated with any being ever. And she seemed to return his unswerving devotion. Every weekend revolved around Joy, who lived up to her name, growing bouncy, healthy dark curls and cultivating a high, peeling giggle that was mostly reserved for whenever one of her parents did something even mildly amusing. She was a good-tempered, curious baby who took to her new family as if she'd adopted them, as much as the other way around.

For Jack, the balance was perfect. He liked going to work as much as always and could never wait to get home. Liz had been enough a part of his professional life that she understood any work problems he brought home. But she also knew when to crack a joke and tell him to lighten up, let it go. Her irreverence allowed him to laugh at what he often took far too seriously. And when that didn't work, she'd simply plonk Joy in his lap to distract him, a tactic that always worked. He rather liked being the sole breadwinner too. Liz planned to return to writing at some point, when Joy was a little older. But she was also enjoying the role of mother, a privilege had been a long time coming. Jack had to admit he rather liked those more traditional roles. He liked the simplicity of their life together. He liked how everything had fallen into place purely because they were both so ready for it, so ripe for it. Not that everything was always perfect. They still fought. Or bickered, rather. They snapped at each other and got annoyed with each other and occasionally went to bed angry or frustrated. But it never lasted very long. That sort of friction had always fizzled quickly between them. And if their years of friendship had taught them anything, it was how to resolve those little disturbances with a few simple words. Only now they followed those words with make-up sex.

It was one highly enjoyable bout of make-up sex that Liz initiated after snapping at him about not emptying the dishwasher that resulted in her becoming pregnant. After her earlier miscarriage and its complications, and considering her "advancing maternal age", her doctor had informed her that her chances of a healthy pregnancy were very low. And getting lower by the day. So as soon as they were married they stopped using protection. Not that they were deliberately trying to get pregnant. But they certainly weren't against it happening. And it did happen. The doctor confirmed it. After which, they waited – slightly trepidatious – until the twelve-week mark to breathe a big sigh of relief and celebrate by spreading the news. Jack handed out cigars at work while Liz made calls to Colleen and Milton and her parents, all of whom were thrilled. She and Joy had already begun to pick out baby names. Boot was the prevailing favorite with Joy. She had started to talk, saying Mom-mom, Dada and Nana, which delighted Margaret Lemon but not Colleen so much. And as mommy's tummy grew bigger, Joy liked to point at it, pronouncing clearly and proudly: "Boot".

During her second trimester, Jack couldn't keep his hands of his wife. Joy had settled into an easy sleep routine, leaving them more time to enjoy each other's company. And Liz's libido had skyrocketed. She would often call him before he'd even arrived at the office, telling him to come home for an early "lunch". Sometimes Jack was getting "lunch" four times a day. And Liz was enjoying "lunch" more than she ever had before. She was obsessed with "lunch", morning, noon and night. While Jack just became obsessed by her growing belly and heaving breasts. He found her blooming body infinitely more erotic than he ever thought he would. Liz didn't mind. In fact, she found getting permissibly fat quite liberating. Sometimes during sex, carried away by uncontrollable arousal, she would take his big hands and place them on her body, put them wherever she wanted them then allow him to squeeze and stroke and explore to his hearts content.

All this physical activity, along with Jack's still thriving career and Liz's long days running after a giggling Joy left them exhausted by the end of each day. Exhausted in a good way, Liz would say before conking out beside him, tucked into his side. After she did, one arm around her, Jack would often scroll through the TV channels as Liz began to snore softly. He might catch some late breaking news or wait up to see Danny or Jenna or Tracy on one the many late night talk shows. Occasionally, he'd stumble across Avery's new show or a commercial for Nancy's organic cosmetics range. And it was like looking at another life, a past life in which he no longer fit. Oddly, there was never any feeling that accompanied seeing their faces or hearing their names. He felt no crippling regret or vast longing, there was no great love or loss. He didn't worry about that distant, unopened door. Because he was happy with the door he chose. He got it right. And he knew he got it right.

Jack never felt the need to wonder if he'd do it differently given the chance. But if he'd asked himself the question, he'd know the answer without doubt. He wouldn't. He wouldn't do a thing differently, wouldn't even want to. He wouldn't sacrifice a second of what he had for a lifetime of what he might have dreamt of. Because he was happy. He had the life he'd always wanted. It might not have looked exactly the way he'd thought it would. But sometimes, if a man was incredibly lucky, reality exceeded his highest expectations. It was with this thought that Jack usually shut off the television and turned out the light. Then each and every night he kissed his sleeping love on the forehead before falling into a deep, satisfied sleep.

END.