30 Rock, General Series. Several Prompts.
Title: Don't Let It Go Unfinished
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
For: drabbles100
Prompts: 061. Winter, 066. Rain, 075. Shattered, 047. Heart, 084. Found, 079. Agony, 098. Writer's Choice (Call), 080. Healing
Word Count: 132 + 236 + 239 + 121 + 460 + 318 + 440 + 281 = 2,227
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Table is here.
Summary: "Liz thought being Jack Donaghy's ex-wife would make her happy." Future-fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
*
Winter
*
Liz thought being Jack Donaghy's ex-wife would make her happy. Which is kind of funny considering she used to think being Jack's wife would make her happy. And before that, she thought Jack getting fired would make her happy.
Yeah, well. Maybe funny isn't the right word.
Or maybe it is. Hating a guy, falling in love with him despite the fact that he mostly drives you crazy, discovering he also makes you happy and saying yes to his marriage proposal, then being his second ex-wife... Ha ha, it's hilarious.
...
Yeah.
It's funny strange. That's it.
She wonders what he's doing now. Maybe he's celebrating the dissolution of their marriage, maybe he's shrugging it off, maybe he's bouncing between joy, apathy and depression.
That, she pretends to find a little funny.
*
Rain
*
During the first week of her life as a divorcee, it's perpetually forty degrees and raining. She's mostly holed up in her apartment, trying to work on a screenplay (the sixth she's attempted, and it'll probably be the fourth to go unfinished and unproduced). Jenna calls from the set of her latest film (the second straight-to-DVD sequel/more like remake of Disturbia), leaving messages that fluctuate wildly between "We're going to find you a new guy and it's going to be great" and "Maybe you should call Jack, I think you two could still make it work." Liz responds by email, ignoring both suggestions (she can't date and she can't be his wife). On a Sunday, Pete brings her a box of donuts, asks, "So, how are you?"
"I'm fine. My script is going... terribly, I guess. But I'm fine. I'm not really fine. No, I'm fine. It's just that the rain is making me gloomy. Everything's making me gloomy, who am I kidding? I'm kidding no one."
Pete is silent for a moment. "Okay, I'm worried about you."
"Don't be worried. Don't. I just have a lot on my mind." She exhales. "I'll be fine."
After he leaves (taking one of her umbrellas, since he left his in a cab), she eats three donuts and writes two lines of dialogue ("I'm Glen, by the way"/"My name's Sarah").
She's not on her way to creating a masterpiece.
*
Shattered
*
When asked what caused her divorce, Liz sometimes says that he was unfaithful. She has no proof of this, just a few reasons to suspect, but it's a simpler answer than the more mundane and truthful one: They just didn't work. They're too different and too similar, too stubborn and too sure that they know what's best. It became easier to argue with him than to give into the idea that she was (once again) wrong. And, really, she never learned how to be comfortable with needing him (she never understood why she did).
There's a lot of other reasons, but. Those are the main ones.
Jeff -- a man Jenna set her up with right after flying back to the city -- gets to hear the more scandalous, not exactly true version of their break-up. He reacts to this news with an almost comical frown that verges on being a pout. "I would never cheat on you," he says. "That guy's crazy."
"And you just met me, so I don't think you can know what our hypothetical relationship would be like."
"All I need to know is that you're special."
Liz fakes a smile. Halfway through dinner, she gets a call from Pete. She pretends that there's an emergency ("My friend was in a car accident. He's fine, but I should really be there with him.") and gets home just in time for America's Next Reality TV Producer.
*
Heart
*
Truth: she's still in love with him. This is not something she tells people (they don't ask, anyway, and she's not sure if they assume that she is or she isn't) because there's something extremely depressing about walking away from a man you still care about. It's like she's trying to sabotage herself in her quest for happiness... which kind of sounds like something she would do. But, the truth is, love wasn't enough. Isn't enough.
Another truth: she's so lonely she's starting to feel like love could be enough. Because she really is a lot more miserable without him than she ever was with him.
But this is the choice she made. The important thing now is to move on.
*
Found
*
After a few more weeks of staring at her computer screen and typing and deleting, she decides to spend the day at the movies (research, she tells herself). She sees three in a row, eats too many pretzel bites (and popcorn and Raisinets) and comes home feeling kind of gross. Then she sees Jack standing in front of her building and... that doesn't really help her stomach.
She mutters out a hey as she gets closer to him. He lifts up his arm. There's a Barneys bag in his hand.
"I found some of your things. Thought I might as well return them, as I suppose I have no use for them."
She takes the bag from him and glances inside. There are several DVDs, all of which she's replaced, and some books, a few of which she'd forgotten she ever owned, but she says, "Thanks." She pauses, and he's just looking at her, and she doesn't know how to feel. "You could have just mailed them."
"I don't see why I should trouble the postal service with a job I could easily do myself. That would be horribly inefficient."
"Yeah, okay. Did you really just come here for this?"
"To be honest... I wanted to see you." He moves closer, putting his hand on her arm. "You really do look great, by the way." He lowers his voice for, "I miss you." There's a smile then; a small one, but a real one.
It's sad, the sight of a fifty-three year old man assuming that he can smooth over everything with a few moments of charm. What's even sadder is that she momentarily forgets that he can't, and she just wants to kiss him. Wants to marry him all over again, wouldn't even mind listening to Jenna's toast a second time. (She sang "My Pink Palace," her last dance music hit, and declared that she still kind of wanted to boff Jack. "I won't try, though.") She'd be okay with repeating all of the stupid stuff that happened at their wedding, because his hand would be on her leg and she'd have that feeling of being done with living alone.
But this is over. It is.
She steps back. His smile falters and this just makes her want to kiss him more. But she doesn't (because it's for the best).
"We're not married anymore, Jack."
"I'm aware of that. Fully aware." He takes his own step back. "Am I allowed to ask how you're doing?"
"I'm doing fine," she says. "I'm working on some stuff. Getting things done. It's really been great."
"I'm glad for you, Liz." After a pause he adds, "Lemon," like he's using his old name for her as a goodbye.
And she guesses he is.
*
Agony
*
Over the next three months, she starts two other scripts, tries to revisit the ones she hasn't finished. She writes some jokes for the Grammys, but most of them get cut before air. There's an offer from Conan, but she can't imagine writing for someone she's seen naked. It's okay, though, because she has enough money to sustain a period of slacking.
But, you know, she'd really like to finish something.
She's saying this to Jenna over the phone as she glances at the Sunday Styles section of the Times. "Writers are supposed to write things that have, you know, endings." That's when she sees Jack's picture. Jack with a woman, his name above hers. His wedding announcement. And she feels so gutted that she doesn't really react. She just stares at the words, wondering if this is a hallucination caused by that weird tasting chili she ate last night. "I'll call you back later."
She (Lauren Samuels, daughter of Timothy and Marie Samuels) is twenty-seven and pretty and an actress (she's done a 'Law and Order' and understudied for Alison Pill) and they were married on Friday. Jack got married and she can't even go on dates, can't stop thinking that she's made a huge mistake, can't be happy. And he has a new wife, who's young and pretty and who cares what else, he has a wife. Liz cries a couple of hours later, though she doesn't disclose this when she next talks to Jenna. "That jerk just got married," she says. "In case you think I might be talking about another jerk, I'm talking about the jerk I used to be married to."
Jenna cancels her date to help Liz ignore the fact that she's upset. A month later, Jenna emails her an article about Jack's divorce.
Liz's response: In his face! (With more than one exclamation point.) But she doesn't feel that much better.
*
Call
*
He calls her at 2:38 a.m. She pretends that she was asleep.
"You know what's on TV, Lemon? That Ben Affleck movie you made me watch on that plane to Tahiti. Remember, you wouldn't take a private jet because it was too wasteful?" He says this lightly, but she wonders if there's a hint of scorn behind it (if you had better taste in movies and cared less about the environment, perhaps we wouldn't have parted). He laughs, sudden and loud (he must be drunk). "Those were good times. Weren't they?"
"Yeah. Yeah, they were," she says. "Jack--"
"I gave her two million dollars in the settlement. You didn't even ask that for three years, and she needs it for three weeks." There's something unintelligible (maybe he's cursing at the Affleck movie or the memory of his latest ex-wife), then: "She never made me watch any of the Star Wars films. She never compared me to Han Solo in a positive or negative way."
"Okay?"
"I didn't love her," he says. "I thought--"
"You don't owe me an explanation, Jack."
"If you didn't want an explanation, you wouldn't have picked up the phone."
"Maybe my caller ID's not working." (It is.)
"Then you would've hung up."
"Maybe I'm too nice to hang up on my drunken ex-husband. You ever think of that? So there."
"No, I didn't. Also, I'm not drunken. I'm barely tipsy." He exhales. "I have to say what I wanted to say."
"Okay. Say it."
"I married her because I thought I didn't want to be alone, but I just didn't want to be without you. Maybe I didn't make this clear before, how much I care for you, and maybe that's why things ended the way they did. But I don't want us to be apart any longer." She doesn't say anything. (Thinks: Neither do I.) "This film really is horrendous."
She tugs at the hem of her pajama top. "Just as I remember it."
"I shouldn't have married her. You should've been here to stop me."
"When have I ever been able to stop you from doing anything?"
"I wouldn't have married her if I were still married to you. I don't believe in bigamy." He says this so seriously that it makes her laugh. "Well, I don't. It's a practice I don't understand."
She laughs harder. Stops herself. Takes a breath. "I can't finish anything. I can't write anything that doesn't suck." She quickly adds, "I can't stop thinking about you." More deliberately, "I don't want to fail at this again."
"We won't."
She bites her lip and decides to believe him.
*
Healing
*
At four in the morning, he's at her place. At 4:01, she's opening the door and just looking at him. Her mouth suddenly turns dry and she feels like this is the first time. Not their real first time, but some alternate universe first time where all he is to her is a man who could sweep her off her feet.
It'd be a nice world to live in, she thinks. Less complicated.
They don't say anything to each other before they kiss, and she's not really sure what there is to say. He tastes a little like Scotch, but mostly like toothpaste, and she presses her hands against his cheeks. She feels like crying (but this time, mostly from happiness). In the back of her mind, she's making a resolution to get used to needing him (because she does; the reason for it doesn't matter).
In the bedroom, he says, "Marry me."
"One thing at a time," she says. "You haven't even taken off your pants yet."
"I've never proposed marriage while in any state of undress and I'm certainly not going to start now." Again: "Marry me."
"I'm going to say no. But you can try again later."
Soon after, they agree to stay divorced for a while. Officially, they're not living together, but her things quickly start finding their way back to his place (some in their old spots, others in new).
It would be nice to say that she finishes one of her scripts right away, but that's not the case. There's optimism, though, and someone to complain to in the middle of the night.
They're going to work this time. (It has to work this time.)
END
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairing: Jack/Liz
For: drabbles100
Prompts: 061. Winter, 066. Rain, 075. Shattered, 047. Heart, 084. Found, 079. Agony, 098. Writer's Choice (Call), 080. Healing
Word Count: 132 + 236 + 239 + 121 + 460 + 318 + 440 + 281 = 2,227
Rating: PG
Author's Notes: Table is here.
Summary: "Liz thought being Jack Donaghy's ex-wife would make her happy." Future-fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue.
*
Winter
*
Liz thought being Jack Donaghy's ex-wife would make her happy. Which is kind of funny considering she used to think being Jack's wife would make her happy. And before that, she thought Jack getting fired would make her happy.
Yeah, well. Maybe funny isn't the right word.
Or maybe it is. Hating a guy, falling in love with him despite the fact that he mostly drives you crazy, discovering he also makes you happy and saying yes to his marriage proposal, then being his second ex-wife... Ha ha, it's hilarious.
...
Yeah.
It's funny strange. That's it.
She wonders what he's doing now. Maybe he's celebrating the dissolution of their marriage, maybe he's shrugging it off, maybe he's bouncing between joy, apathy and depression.
That, she pretends to find a little funny.
*
Rain
*
During the first week of her life as a divorcee, it's perpetually forty degrees and raining. She's mostly holed up in her apartment, trying to work on a screenplay (the sixth she's attempted, and it'll probably be the fourth to go unfinished and unproduced). Jenna calls from the set of her latest film (the second straight-to-DVD sequel/more like remake of Disturbia), leaving messages that fluctuate wildly between "We're going to find you a new guy and it's going to be great" and "Maybe you should call Jack, I think you two could still make it work." Liz responds by email, ignoring both suggestions (she can't date and she can't be his wife). On a Sunday, Pete brings her a box of donuts, asks, "So, how are you?"
"I'm fine. My script is going... terribly, I guess. But I'm fine. I'm not really fine. No, I'm fine. It's just that the rain is making me gloomy. Everything's making me gloomy, who am I kidding? I'm kidding no one."
Pete is silent for a moment. "Okay, I'm worried about you."
"Don't be worried. Don't. I just have a lot on my mind." She exhales. "I'll be fine."
After he leaves (taking one of her umbrellas, since he left his in a cab), she eats three donuts and writes two lines of dialogue ("I'm Glen, by the way"/"My name's Sarah").
She's not on her way to creating a masterpiece.
*
Shattered
*
When asked what caused her divorce, Liz sometimes says that he was unfaithful. She has no proof of this, just a few reasons to suspect, but it's a simpler answer than the more mundane and truthful one: They just didn't work. They're too different and too similar, too stubborn and too sure that they know what's best. It became easier to argue with him than to give into the idea that she was (once again) wrong. And, really, she never learned how to be comfortable with needing him (she never understood why she did).
There's a lot of other reasons, but. Those are the main ones.
Jeff -- a man Jenna set her up with right after flying back to the city -- gets to hear the more scandalous, not exactly true version of their break-up. He reacts to this news with an almost comical frown that verges on being a pout. "I would never cheat on you," he says. "That guy's crazy."
"And you just met me, so I don't think you can know what our hypothetical relationship would be like."
"All I need to know is that you're special."
Liz fakes a smile. Halfway through dinner, she gets a call from Pete. She pretends that there's an emergency ("My friend was in a car accident. He's fine, but I should really be there with him.") and gets home just in time for America's Next Reality TV Producer.
*
Heart
*
Truth: she's still in love with him. This is not something she tells people (they don't ask, anyway, and she's not sure if they assume that she is or she isn't) because there's something extremely depressing about walking away from a man you still care about. It's like she's trying to sabotage herself in her quest for happiness... which kind of sounds like something she would do. But, the truth is, love wasn't enough. Isn't enough.
Another truth: she's so lonely she's starting to feel like love could be enough. Because she really is a lot more miserable without him than she ever was with him.
But this is the choice she made. The important thing now is to move on.
*
Found
*
After a few more weeks of staring at her computer screen and typing and deleting, she decides to spend the day at the movies (research, she tells herself). She sees three in a row, eats too many pretzel bites (and popcorn and Raisinets) and comes home feeling kind of gross. Then she sees Jack standing in front of her building and... that doesn't really help her stomach.
She mutters out a hey as she gets closer to him. He lifts up his arm. There's a Barneys bag in his hand.
"I found some of your things. Thought I might as well return them, as I suppose I have no use for them."
She takes the bag from him and glances inside. There are several DVDs, all of which she's replaced, and some books, a few of which she'd forgotten she ever owned, but she says, "Thanks." She pauses, and he's just looking at her, and she doesn't know how to feel. "You could have just mailed them."
"I don't see why I should trouble the postal service with a job I could easily do myself. That would be horribly inefficient."
"Yeah, okay. Did you really just come here for this?"
"To be honest... I wanted to see you." He moves closer, putting his hand on her arm. "You really do look great, by the way." He lowers his voice for, "I miss you." There's a smile then; a small one, but a real one.
It's sad, the sight of a fifty-three year old man assuming that he can smooth over everything with a few moments of charm. What's even sadder is that she momentarily forgets that he can't, and she just wants to kiss him. Wants to marry him all over again, wouldn't even mind listening to Jenna's toast a second time. (She sang "My Pink Palace," her last dance music hit, and declared that she still kind of wanted to boff Jack. "I won't try, though.") She'd be okay with repeating all of the stupid stuff that happened at their wedding, because his hand would be on her leg and she'd have that feeling of being done with living alone.
But this is over. It is.
She steps back. His smile falters and this just makes her want to kiss him more. But she doesn't (because it's for the best).
"We're not married anymore, Jack."
"I'm aware of that. Fully aware." He takes his own step back. "Am I allowed to ask how you're doing?"
"I'm doing fine," she says. "I'm working on some stuff. Getting things done. It's really been great."
"I'm glad for you, Liz." After a pause he adds, "Lemon," like he's using his old name for her as a goodbye.
And she guesses he is.
*
Agony
*
Over the next three months, she starts two other scripts, tries to revisit the ones she hasn't finished. She writes some jokes for the Grammys, but most of them get cut before air. There's an offer from Conan, but she can't imagine writing for someone she's seen naked. It's okay, though, because she has enough money to sustain a period of slacking.
But, you know, she'd really like to finish something.
She's saying this to Jenna over the phone as she glances at the Sunday Styles section of the Times. "Writers are supposed to write things that have, you know, endings." That's when she sees Jack's picture. Jack with a woman, his name above hers. His wedding announcement. And she feels so gutted that she doesn't really react. She just stares at the words, wondering if this is a hallucination caused by that weird tasting chili she ate last night. "I'll call you back later."
She (Lauren Samuels, daughter of Timothy and Marie Samuels) is twenty-seven and pretty and an actress (she's done a 'Law and Order' and understudied for Alison Pill) and they were married on Friday. Jack got married and she can't even go on dates, can't stop thinking that she's made a huge mistake, can't be happy. And he has a new wife, who's young and pretty and who cares what else, he has a wife. Liz cries a couple of hours later, though she doesn't disclose this when she next talks to Jenna. "That jerk just got married," she says. "In case you think I might be talking about another jerk, I'm talking about the jerk I used to be married to."
Jenna cancels her date to help Liz ignore the fact that she's upset. A month later, Jenna emails her an article about Jack's divorce.
Liz's response: In his face! (With more than one exclamation point.) But she doesn't feel that much better.
*
Call
*
He calls her at 2:38 a.m. She pretends that she was asleep.
"You know what's on TV, Lemon? That Ben Affleck movie you made me watch on that plane to Tahiti. Remember, you wouldn't take a private jet because it was too wasteful?" He says this lightly, but she wonders if there's a hint of scorn behind it (if you had better taste in movies and cared less about the environment, perhaps we wouldn't have parted). He laughs, sudden and loud (he must be drunk). "Those were good times. Weren't they?"
"Yeah. Yeah, they were," she says. "Jack--"
"I gave her two million dollars in the settlement. You didn't even ask that for three years, and she needs it for three weeks." There's something unintelligible (maybe he's cursing at the Affleck movie or the memory of his latest ex-wife), then: "She never made me watch any of the Star Wars films. She never compared me to Han Solo in a positive or negative way."
"Okay?"
"I didn't love her," he says. "I thought--"
"You don't owe me an explanation, Jack."
"If you didn't want an explanation, you wouldn't have picked up the phone."
"Maybe my caller ID's not working." (It is.)
"Then you would've hung up."
"Maybe I'm too nice to hang up on my drunken ex-husband. You ever think of that? So there."
"No, I didn't. Also, I'm not drunken. I'm barely tipsy." He exhales. "I have to say what I wanted to say."
"Okay. Say it."
"I married her because I thought I didn't want to be alone, but I just didn't want to be without you. Maybe I didn't make this clear before, how much I care for you, and maybe that's why things ended the way they did. But I don't want us to be apart any longer." She doesn't say anything. (Thinks: Neither do I.) "This film really is horrendous."
She tugs at the hem of her pajama top. "Just as I remember it."
"I shouldn't have married her. You should've been here to stop me."
"When have I ever been able to stop you from doing anything?"
"I wouldn't have married her if I were still married to you. I don't believe in bigamy." He says this so seriously that it makes her laugh. "Well, I don't. It's a practice I don't understand."
She laughs harder. Stops herself. Takes a breath. "I can't finish anything. I can't write anything that doesn't suck." She quickly adds, "I can't stop thinking about you." More deliberately, "I don't want to fail at this again."
"We won't."
She bites her lip and decides to believe him.
*
Healing
*
At four in the morning, he's at her place. At 4:01, she's opening the door and just looking at him. Her mouth suddenly turns dry and she feels like this is the first time. Not their real first time, but some alternate universe first time where all he is to her is a man who could sweep her off her feet.
It'd be a nice world to live in, she thinks. Less complicated.
They don't say anything to each other before they kiss, and she's not really sure what there is to say. He tastes a little like Scotch, but mostly like toothpaste, and she presses her hands against his cheeks. She feels like crying (but this time, mostly from happiness). In the back of her mind, she's making a resolution to get used to needing him (because she does; the reason for it doesn't matter).
In the bedroom, he says, "Marry me."
"One thing at a time," she says. "You haven't even taken off your pants yet."
"I've never proposed marriage while in any state of undress and I'm certainly not going to start now." Again: "Marry me."
"I'm going to say no. But you can try again later."
Soon after, they agree to stay divorced for a while. Officially, they're not living together, but her things quickly start finding their way back to his place (some in their old spots, others in new).
It would be nice to say that she finishes one of her scripts right away, but that's not the case. There's optimism, though, and someone to complain to in the middle of the night.
They're going to work this time. (It has to work this time.)
END