30 Rock: In Sickness and Health (Jack/Avery, Jack/Liz), PG-13
Title: In Sickness and Health
Author: frey_at_last
Pairings: Jack/Avery, Jack/Liz
Rating: PG-13 for grossness?
Spoilers: All of Jack's relationships, and the last half of season four.
NOTE: This was supposed to be a kind of gross humor piece about Jack's drunken ranting about Bianca in season one. Then it became something totally different and half serious. I don't know?
Jack knows it is somewhat unusual, but since his first marriage he has indulged in rather morbid fantasies about his lovers contracting serious illnesses. He becomes the man solely responsible for their care, nursing them tenderly back to health, or to death, or sometimes to an endless and precarious state of chronic infirmity.
Liz thinks it's gross.
"It's a control thing," she says on the phone. "I mean, you basically dream about making your ladies into parasitic little blood fishes who need you to help them eat and poop. It's a gross, narcissistic Mr Rochester thing."
Jack protests. "It's not that way at all. I'm expressing my care for them. I'm expressing the kind of vulnerability and neediness a man should only admit to or project upon others in his fantasy life."
"Yeah, I don't know, Jack. I think you better keep it to yourself."
"I certainly intend to. I only tell you such things when you ask."
"I asked whether Avery's morning sickness was getting better, not whether you had elaborate scenarios where she survives on a feeding tube."
They're talking in July, eight weeks into TGS's summer hiatus and six weeks after Liz's breakup with Carol.
"Our conversations often veer off track."
"True."
"And when there are things I know better than to share with my lovers, it's just nice to speak them aloud. I enjoy our conversations, Lemon."
"Ha, well, I can probably change your mind about that, if I just bring up Floyd or Carol or my therapist or something."
On the phone, it's even more obvious how frequently Lemon is sarcastic.
He changes the subject. "Speaking of Floyd, you probably don't want to hear about the dreams I've had lately in which I accidentally maim him and his bride. They tend to be a little grisly."
"Wait, what?"
"They're mostly set atop the Empire State Building. I've just finished carrying you to the observation deck, when we spot them, kissing quite amorously by a viewfinder. Floyd hides behind a gargoyle, but I find him and throw the first punch. After a few rounds, he trips and topples backward over the parapet."
"Somewhere in there Floyd turned into Gaston."
"He lands after a few minutes, but it takes the fire department a while to sweep him up, which is when you and I escape by rappelling down the north side." Jack pauses. "There's a variant where you start a slap fight with his wife -- but in that one, intriguingly, Floyd and I are both naked."
"You're right, I didn't want to hear this."
"I did warn you. And I can't exactly be held responsible for my Middle Paleolithic subconsious."
"Wow, so you must be as jealous of Caitlin as I am."
"Something like that."
"I'm gonna be up front with you, Jack. If you try and be buddies with Floyd again now that he's back in the city, we will never speak again."
"Very funny. I have no such intention."
"Good."
"I will make that sacrifice, despite the fact that I don't have many younger male friends with whom I share a real rapport. I suppose there's Danny."
"Yeah, now you just need to get some dude friends I haven't made out with."
Jack supposes she makes a good point. However:
"But do I mock you for your bizarre CHiPs fantasies? Your grating attraction to men in hypermasculine, well nigh cartoonish costumes? No. I acknowledge your weaknesses and accept them."
"You accept my weaknesses? Okay, this is good."
"Don't be sarcastic. I pass over many possible remarks out of respect for your feelings."
"Geez, that's great, Jack. I appreciate it. Really."
"You're welcome."
"Anyway. Did you have these thoughts about Cici? Or Phoebe?"
"Oh, I wasn't in love with Phoebe."
"Right. I credit you for that."
"As for Cici, part of what made me fall for her was learning of her dramatic medical history. All her courage in the face of tragedy -- dedicating her life to her country all because of an irresponsible dog!"
"I guess it makes a weird kind of sense. I just wouldn't exactly peg you as a bleeding heart, Jack."
He finds himself becoming frustrated; feeling as if they've had this conversation in other guises many times before.
"We need people to care for, Lemon, people to rely on us. You act like accepting help is pathological."
Inevitably, Liz gets defensive. "I know I need help. I'm practically never in control of situations."
"I'm not talking about needing help, I'm talking about accepting it. And about being okay with somebody else needing help." There's a silence as Jack tries to shift gears. "It doesn't have to be one-sided. I know the ways I need people, and I suppose some part of me wants to imagine how they might rely on me in return."
"Says the guy who didn't tell me about his testicular cancer."
"My testicular cancer scare. And I did tell you."
"But only after you told your mom's nurse."
"Well, I was newly in love. And she was a medical professional."
"That brings up another thing. Your girlfriends are pretty independent ladies -- maybe the fatal illness fantasy is just all, like, Freudian castration anxiety."
"You laugh, but by the end of my relationship with Elisa, knowing her history, I did struggle with such fears. Instead of daydreaming that she'd contracted a bad case of consumption, I tried to imagine my life as a eunuch, or an amputee. I can assure you it did not have the same appeal."
"Seriously, ew."
"But you don't think there's something romantic about it? Being cared for by a man devoted to you and your wellbeing? I can't say it doesn't always turn into something else --"
"You mean like the ones where Bianca dies in agony."
"-- well, yes. But they start out very tenderly."
"It just seems kind of extreme. Maybe you should fantasize about taking out the trash, or sending flower arrangements. Ladies like that a lot more than being spoonfed grape Tylenol."
"I suppose you're right. I do tend to go overboard."
"And I know I'm way too particular about finding guys I like, but I have no idea how you can get this intense about women, like, twice a year. I don't wanna get all up in your life, Jack, but do you think sometimes you're overcompensating?"
"It's possible that I overinvest in most of my close relationships, yes. That the tenuous bonds of my early family life have driven me to seek fulfillment and security elsewhere. But I went years without investing in any of my sexual relationships whatsoever."
It's quiet for a moment, but Liz's tone is casual. "Then what changed?"
Jack searches for an answer.
"I don't know. I suppose I hit my late forties and realized I didn't have much time."
"Yeah. But, you've got that taken care of now, right? I hope Avery is the end of the line. Like, with a kid involved."
"I know this, Lemon."
"I know you know it, but. You know. I'm just saying." Liz has softened her tone a little, so that the silence they fall into is comfortable rather than cool. It urges Jack on.
"Can I tell you something else?"
"Uh, sure."
"In my dream, after the gangrene has eaten its way up Avery's thighs --"
"Ugh."
"-- the doctors are able to extract the child from her womb before she expires. She names him Francis, and I carry him to my apartment, where we feed him cheese puffs and suspend him from the ceiling in a bassinet."
"We feed him?"
"Well, you do."
"Jack..." There's a strange silence. Then: "I think you need to stop eating Thai before bed, I really do."
"It's just a dream. I wouldn't want to orphan my own child."
"Okay. That's good."
"Perhaps it reflects my concern about your... state of life."
"In other words, not something you need to be worrying about. Speaking of hopeless cases. It's, you know, 'do not resuscitate.' I'm trying to work in something with organ donation but it's not coming to me. Let's not talk about it." She exhales with a humorless laugh.
Jack hesitates and purses his lips, though she can't see his expression. "I didn't say we had to talk about it."
"Okay, good. Anyway, my, uh, my food just got here."
"I pray it's not more Cheesy Blasters."
This gets him a genuine laugh. "No, I've given those up. One cartoon cat kid is enough for us, am I right? It's that awesome new pizza from -- oh, yep. Here you go. No, keep the change. Thanks. Sorry, he's gone now. Jack?"
"I'm here."
"Okay. Well, I'll let you get back to your whatever you were doing before you called."
"And I'll let you eat your pizza." He waits for her to say something else, but she doesn't. "Goodnight, Liz."
"G'night, Jack. Good talk."
"Good talk."
Jack is left on the couch in his apartment, turning his cell phone over in his hands and feeling as if he had more to say but has forgotten what it was.
Author: frey_at_last
Pairings: Jack/Avery, Jack/Liz
Rating: PG-13 for grossness?
Spoilers: All of Jack's relationships, and the last half of season four.
NOTE: This was supposed to be a kind of gross humor piece about Jack's drunken ranting about Bianca in season one. Then it became something totally different and half serious. I don't know?
Jack knows it is somewhat unusual, but since his first marriage he has indulged in rather morbid fantasies about his lovers contracting serious illnesses. He becomes the man solely responsible for their care, nursing them tenderly back to health, or to death, or sometimes to an endless and precarious state of chronic infirmity.
Liz thinks it's gross.
"It's a control thing," she says on the phone. "I mean, you basically dream about making your ladies into parasitic little blood fishes who need you to help them eat and poop. It's a gross, narcissistic Mr Rochester thing."
Jack protests. "It's not that way at all. I'm expressing my care for them. I'm expressing the kind of vulnerability and neediness a man should only admit to or project upon others in his fantasy life."
"Yeah, I don't know, Jack. I think you better keep it to yourself."
"I certainly intend to. I only tell you such things when you ask."
"I asked whether Avery's morning sickness was getting better, not whether you had elaborate scenarios where she survives on a feeding tube."
They're talking in July, eight weeks into TGS's summer hiatus and six weeks after Liz's breakup with Carol.
"Our conversations often veer off track."
"True."
"And when there are things I know better than to share with my lovers, it's just nice to speak them aloud. I enjoy our conversations, Lemon."
"Ha, well, I can probably change your mind about that, if I just bring up Floyd or Carol or my therapist or something."
On the phone, it's even more obvious how frequently Lemon is sarcastic.
He changes the subject. "Speaking of Floyd, you probably don't want to hear about the dreams I've had lately in which I accidentally maim him and his bride. They tend to be a little grisly."
"Wait, what?"
"They're mostly set atop the Empire State Building. I've just finished carrying you to the observation deck, when we spot them, kissing quite amorously by a viewfinder. Floyd hides behind a gargoyle, but I find him and throw the first punch. After a few rounds, he trips and topples backward over the parapet."
"Somewhere in there Floyd turned into Gaston."
"He lands after a few minutes, but it takes the fire department a while to sweep him up, which is when you and I escape by rappelling down the north side." Jack pauses. "There's a variant where you start a slap fight with his wife -- but in that one, intriguingly, Floyd and I are both naked."
"You're right, I didn't want to hear this."
"I did warn you. And I can't exactly be held responsible for my Middle Paleolithic subconsious."
"Wow, so you must be as jealous of Caitlin as I am."
"Something like that."
"I'm gonna be up front with you, Jack. If you try and be buddies with Floyd again now that he's back in the city, we will never speak again."
"Very funny. I have no such intention."
"Good."
"I will make that sacrifice, despite the fact that I don't have many younger male friends with whom I share a real rapport. I suppose there's Danny."
"Yeah, now you just need to get some dude friends I haven't made out with."
Jack supposes she makes a good point. However:
"But do I mock you for your bizarre CHiPs fantasies? Your grating attraction to men in hypermasculine, well nigh cartoonish costumes? No. I acknowledge your weaknesses and accept them."
"You accept my weaknesses? Okay, this is good."
"Don't be sarcastic. I pass over many possible remarks out of respect for your feelings."
"Geez, that's great, Jack. I appreciate it. Really."
"You're welcome."
"Anyway. Did you have these thoughts about Cici? Or Phoebe?"
"Oh, I wasn't in love with Phoebe."
"Right. I credit you for that."
"As for Cici, part of what made me fall for her was learning of her dramatic medical history. All her courage in the face of tragedy -- dedicating her life to her country all because of an irresponsible dog!"
"I guess it makes a weird kind of sense. I just wouldn't exactly peg you as a bleeding heart, Jack."
He finds himself becoming frustrated; feeling as if they've had this conversation in other guises many times before.
"We need people to care for, Lemon, people to rely on us. You act like accepting help is pathological."
Inevitably, Liz gets defensive. "I know I need help. I'm practically never in control of situations."
"I'm not talking about needing help, I'm talking about accepting it. And about being okay with somebody else needing help." There's a silence as Jack tries to shift gears. "It doesn't have to be one-sided. I know the ways I need people, and I suppose some part of me wants to imagine how they might rely on me in return."
"Says the guy who didn't tell me about his testicular cancer."
"My testicular cancer scare. And I did tell you."
"But only after you told your mom's nurse."
"Well, I was newly in love. And she was a medical professional."
"That brings up another thing. Your girlfriends are pretty independent ladies -- maybe the fatal illness fantasy is just all, like, Freudian castration anxiety."
"You laugh, but by the end of my relationship with Elisa, knowing her history, I did struggle with such fears. Instead of daydreaming that she'd contracted a bad case of consumption, I tried to imagine my life as a eunuch, or an amputee. I can assure you it did not have the same appeal."
"Seriously, ew."
"But you don't think there's something romantic about it? Being cared for by a man devoted to you and your wellbeing? I can't say it doesn't always turn into something else --"
"You mean like the ones where Bianca dies in agony."
"-- well, yes. But they start out very tenderly."
"It just seems kind of extreme. Maybe you should fantasize about taking out the trash, or sending flower arrangements. Ladies like that a lot more than being spoonfed grape Tylenol."
"I suppose you're right. I do tend to go overboard."
"And I know I'm way too particular about finding guys I like, but I have no idea how you can get this intense about women, like, twice a year. I don't wanna get all up in your life, Jack, but do you think sometimes you're overcompensating?"
"It's possible that I overinvest in most of my close relationships, yes. That the tenuous bonds of my early family life have driven me to seek fulfillment and security elsewhere. But I went years without investing in any of my sexual relationships whatsoever."
It's quiet for a moment, but Liz's tone is casual. "Then what changed?"
Jack searches for an answer.
"I don't know. I suppose I hit my late forties and realized I didn't have much time."
"Yeah. But, you've got that taken care of now, right? I hope Avery is the end of the line. Like, with a kid involved."
"I know this, Lemon."
"I know you know it, but. You know. I'm just saying." Liz has softened her tone a little, so that the silence they fall into is comfortable rather than cool. It urges Jack on.
"Can I tell you something else?"
"Uh, sure."
"In my dream, after the gangrene has eaten its way up Avery's thighs --"
"Ugh."
"-- the doctors are able to extract the child from her womb before she expires. She names him Francis, and I carry him to my apartment, where we feed him cheese puffs and suspend him from the ceiling in a bassinet."
"We feed him?"
"Well, you do."
"Jack..." There's a strange silence. Then: "I think you need to stop eating Thai before bed, I really do."
"It's just a dream. I wouldn't want to orphan my own child."
"Okay. That's good."
"Perhaps it reflects my concern about your... state of life."
"In other words, not something you need to be worrying about. Speaking of hopeless cases. It's, you know, 'do not resuscitate.' I'm trying to work in something with organ donation but it's not coming to me. Let's not talk about it." She exhales with a humorless laugh.
Jack hesitates and purses his lips, though she can't see his expression. "I didn't say we had to talk about it."
"Okay, good. Anyway, my, uh, my food just got here."
"I pray it's not more Cheesy Blasters."
This gets him a genuine laugh. "No, I've given those up. One cartoon cat kid is enough for us, am I right? It's that awesome new pizza from -- oh, yep. Here you go. No, keep the change. Thanks. Sorry, he's gone now. Jack?"
"I'm here."
"Okay. Well, I'll let you get back to your whatever you were doing before you called."
"And I'll let you eat your pizza." He waits for her to say something else, but she doesn't. "Goodnight, Liz."
"G'night, Jack. Good talk."
"Good talk."
Jack is left on the couch in his apartment, turning his cell phone over in his hands and feeling as if he had more to say but has forgotten what it was.