Wake Completely Lost (Jack/Liz, Jack/Elisa)
Title: Wake Completely Lost
Prompt: un_love_you #08. I'm cruel.
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairings: Jack/Liz, implied Jack/Elisa
Spoilers: through "Goodbye, My Friend"
Word Count: 2,203
Rating: PG-13
Table: Over here.
Notes: There will still be another fic after this one. This section didn't really work well with the rest of it. (Which may also be cut up. We shall see.) In any case, read this!
Summary: They didn't think they were these people. (Part of the ' This Mess We're In' series.)
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Please don't sue.
*
"I think I'm a bad person," is the first thing Liz says to her therapist during their next session. But when she's asked to elaborate, all she can manage is, "I don't know. Just a general feeling."
It's a terrible idea to keep major life events from the professional she pays to help sort through her problems, but she can't quite seem to talk about her... Fling? Affair? Her mistake, even in a setting that's meant to be nonjudgmental. She can't say a word about it, but it's all she thinks of as she babbles on about work problems (I don't think any of them respect me. I always say that, I guess.), the conversation she had with her mother last night (She always says 'I want grandchildren,' like I'm not trying, like all I need is a push and then I'll get married and start popping out babies, but it's more complicated. Why wouldn't she know it's more complicated? You know, that's an awful phrase, popping out babies.), her romantic prospects (I should be able to hold on to a boyfriend for more than a couple of months, right? I'm not that messed-up. Please agree with me.), her general dissatisfaction with her life (I'm just... not happy.).
It's all she thinks about, but she says nothing. If she could discuss what's on her mind, she'd start by mentioning that she's scared of what will happen when Elisa comes back. Well, she'd start with the fact that she had sex with her engaged boss and what sort of person does something like that, but eventually she'd say she broke it off because she couldn't stand the guilt anymore, then bring up how, even though it's over, her and Jack, the thought of, for instance, running into Elisa in the elevator terrifies Liz because how is she supposed to look her in the eye? And what if Elisa finds out what happened between them and insists Jack fire or transfer her? What if Jack tries to sidestep suspicion by pretending they're still friends, and she has to act like nothing's wrong and eventually, she'll have to make a toast at Jack's wedding, one of those awkward, rambly, 'hiding the hurt' toasts that only happens in the movies and, just like in the movies, everyone will assume she's been in love with Jack all along (not wracked with guilt for failing to tell Elisa Jack's not the guy you think he is)?
She likes to believe she's not pathetic enough to let a scenario like that play out, but once you've let a guy go from waxing poetic about his love for his girlfriend to fucking you on his desk without a word about how you're doing something wrong and awful, it's difficult to say what lines you won't cross.
At least she ended it. That should be worth something.
No, it shouldn't. The only thing that would be worth something is if she hadn't done it in the first place. If she hadn't wanted him, or if she wanted him and pushed him away. Then it could have been an almost kiss that occurred because he was drunk, not a weeks-long whatever that made her feel used and alone. Makes her feel used and alone.
"And then... yeah," she says. "That's the end of that story."
"You seem distracted," Christina observes. (First name basis, like they're friends. And Liz supposes they sort of are, since she's not telling any of her friends about this, either.)
"Well, I'm tired. I guess that's the problem." That's part of the truth, at least.
She ends the session early, saying she has to get back to work. She wonders if she seems like a person who's hiding something.
*
"And tell him I'm not cutting the Swanson joke out of the stupid microwave sketch he wanted us to do. Who cares if we upset the Swanson people? Do they even make anything anymore? None of the TV dinners in my freezer are from Swanson. And--"
Pete interrupts with: "How much longer am I going to be the one who talks to Jack?"
"It's been a few days," Liz says, trying not to sound too flustered by the mention of Jack's name. Even though she was talking about Jack, somehow hearing his name... She doesn't want to hear it. "Also, it's not like it doesn't make sense for you to talk to him. You've talked to him. Just because I'm usually the one who deals with him doesn't mean you're not supposed to. Also, forever. You're going to deal with him forever."
She sounds so childish; this must be helping Pete to assume her problem with Jack is something minor. Something inconsequential that she's making into a major deal. Her suspicion is confirmed when he dismissively says:
"Sure. I will deal with Jack forever."
She nods. "That is what I said."
"So, basically, what I should tell him is that you have no respect for Swanson?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
*
She hates it, but she thinks about Jack all the time. About she and Jack. About what they used to be; what they've become. About his hand on her arm as they walked down the hall; his mouth on hers as he unbuttoned her jeans. About how this is what happens when you want something. You end up wanting the wrong things and let wrong things happen in service of that. (She's done this before, acted on her worst impulses when she's liked a guy, but this is worse.) Because she did want him. Regardless of why, whether she did somehow fall in love with him for a while or a part of her was attracted to him, she didn't sleep with Jack simply because he offered. She wanted him, and maybe it was obvious. Maybe that was why he started this with her, because he knew she'd allow it. Because he knew she'd let it go too far, because he liked having some power over her. Maybe it wasn't about sleeping with a woman who wasn't Elisa, but about sleeping with a woman who would do something terrible in service of him. A woman who knew who he was and whom he loved and would still let him screw her.
She thinks about how much she used to care for him, and she misses it. She misses him, or at least the person he made her believe he was. She wonders when that will go away.
Liz also finds herself missing who she thought she was, someone who followed rules and tried to be a decent person. And she blames Jack for slowly taking that away from her, for spending a chunk of their time together turning morality into nothing but gray areas she had to move through to get what she wants. She blames him, though it's not all his fault. She blames him because she's sick of hating herself.
**
Jack's never considered himself a cruel person; everything he's ever said or done that others would consider harsh came from practical considerations or a drive to be honest. But his thoughtless behavior toward his best friend and his girlfriend can't be tied to anything reasonable or truthful. He's not sure what the truth is, at least as it pertains to things deeper than the basic facts. He doesn't know what it is he'd hope for, if not expect, for the future. He still hasn't told Elisa; he hasn't talked to her at all since Liz stormed out of his office. He's made attempts to talk to Liz, but she hasn't acknowledged his presence when he's made said attempts. There have been witnesses to these moments, which have occurred in hallways and outside her office (she won't let herself be alone with him; he hasn't even caught her working late), and he can't help but wonder what conclusions people come to when they see such interactions. He doesn't know why the perceptions of others interest him; perhaps he wants an outside perspective to make things a little clearer to him.
It's strange, for once, to not know what he's doing, to not be working toward some goal. He doesn't know what he'd say to her if she did allow him an actual conversation. Nothing he could say would magically fix everything; his words mean nothing to Liz because she no longer views him as sincere. (He hopes that if they did get together and actually talk, they'd find a way to repair their relationship. This hope is why he keeps trying to engage her.) He longs for the time when she trusted him despite having no right to; he's the one who threw it away. They both did something wrong, but he took the first step, a step she never would have taken.
It's he who had responsibilities to two people and didn't stay committed to either one.
He sends Liz an e-mail begging her to come up to his office. We need to talk. She doesn't do what he asks. She doesn't respond.
*
"Liz wanted me to tell you how much she hates Swanson."
Jack raises his eyebrows. He's not sure what that could mean. "Excuse me?"
Pete seems to realize in a second that Jack isn't someone he kids around with. "She doesn't want to cut the joke. The Swanson joke. From the microwave sketch."
"Oh." He pauses. "Okay. Fine."
He's silent for a moment. "I was not expecting that answer. Is this what the two of you are fighting about?" And in that second, he realizes, "It is none of my business."
"The Swanson issue is not where our problems lie, no," Jack says.
"Okay," he says. "I'll go now."
*
It's after ten when Jack leaves his office. On its way down, the elevator stops at the sixth floor. He's surprised to see Liz standing there; he'd come down earlier looking for her and she wasn't in her office. He wonders if she was away from her desk temporarily or used someone else's workspace in order to avoid him. She doesn't take a step toward or away from him, seems to be frozen as she stares at him with slightly widened eyes. He puts a hand on the door to keep it from closing, as if he believes there's a chance she'll join him.
"We have to talk," he says. Perhaps she'll at least respond to him now, when they're alone.
"We don't, Jack. We really don't." She exhales. "Please leave."
He doesn't pull his hand away, but he also doesn't step off the elevator. "I want to fix this," he says, simply to say something.
"And how are you going to do that?" she asks.
He waits for an answer to come to him, to hit him as he's standing before her, but what he ends up with is, "I'm sorry."
"I know you're sorry. You said that already. I'm sorry. We're all very sorry. So good for us." She shakes her head, breaking eye contact. "I can't do this now. No, I can't do this ever, okay? Just stay away from me, and if you need to talk to me about the show, e-mail me. Talk to Pete. I don't care. I don't want to be around you. Okay? So leave." Her eyes meet his again and she weakly mutters, "I can't be around you. If you care about me even a little, you'll leave."
He pulls his hand away and takes a step back. As the door closes, he watches her gaze return to the floor.
*
Jack should have told Liz how important she is to him a long time ago, before all this happened. Not that he believes it would make a real difference now; it wouldn't assuage her guilt or make what they did okay. But, maybe, if he said you're the only actual friend I have or something that would sound more natural coming from him, she would at least believe it means something when he apologizes to her and it would be easier to repair things. Maybe she'd be able to spend more than a few moments in his presence without wanting him to get away from her. Maybe it wouldn't seem like he'd used her; maybe he wouldn't worry that he'd used her. Perhaps if he'd even said it at the time, whispered something other than her name while he was buried inside her, it wouldn't feel like what they shared was solely the result of a base impulse. Or maybe that would have made it worse; made him seem more like a liar. More like a man who wanted to manipulate her into taking off her clothes.
He wonders how many other people need the right context for honest words to sound like truth.
He thinks of Liz, months ago, watching him from his doorway because she was happy to have him back in her day-to-day life. He thinks of Elisa, weeks ago, wrapping her arms around him and accepting his offer of a future with him. He thinks of what it's like to love someone, and he thinks of picking up the phone.
He thinks of it, but doesn't do it.
END
Prompt: un_love_you #08. I'm cruel.
Fandom: 30 Rock
Pairings: Jack/Liz, implied Jack/Elisa
Spoilers: through "Goodbye, My Friend"
Word Count: 2,203
Rating: PG-13
Table: Over here.
Notes: There will still be another fic after this one. This section didn't really work well with the rest of it. (Which may also be cut up. We shall see.) In any case, read this!
Summary: They didn't think they were these people. (Part of the ' This Mess We're In' series.)
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine. Please don't sue.
*
"I think I'm a bad person," is the first thing Liz says to her therapist during their next session. But when she's asked to elaborate, all she can manage is, "I don't know. Just a general feeling."
It's a terrible idea to keep major life events from the professional she pays to help sort through her problems, but she can't quite seem to talk about her... Fling? Affair? Her mistake, even in a setting that's meant to be nonjudgmental. She can't say a word about it, but it's all she thinks of as she babbles on about work problems (I don't think any of them respect me. I always say that, I guess.), the conversation she had with her mother last night (She always says 'I want grandchildren,' like I'm not trying, like all I need is a push and then I'll get married and start popping out babies, but it's more complicated. Why wouldn't she know it's more complicated? You know, that's an awful phrase, popping out babies.), her romantic prospects (I should be able to hold on to a boyfriend for more than a couple of months, right? I'm not that messed-up. Please agree with me.), her general dissatisfaction with her life (I'm just... not happy.).
It's all she thinks about, but she says nothing. If she could discuss what's on her mind, she'd start by mentioning that she's scared of what will happen when Elisa comes back. Well, she'd start with the fact that she had sex with her engaged boss and what sort of person does something like that, but eventually she'd say she broke it off because she couldn't stand the guilt anymore, then bring up how, even though it's over, her and Jack, the thought of, for instance, running into Elisa in the elevator terrifies Liz because how is she supposed to look her in the eye? And what if Elisa finds out what happened between them and insists Jack fire or transfer her? What if Jack tries to sidestep suspicion by pretending they're still friends, and she has to act like nothing's wrong and eventually, she'll have to make a toast at Jack's wedding, one of those awkward, rambly, 'hiding the hurt' toasts that only happens in the movies and, just like in the movies, everyone will assume she's been in love with Jack all along (not wracked with guilt for failing to tell Elisa Jack's not the guy you think he is)?
She likes to believe she's not pathetic enough to let a scenario like that play out, but once you've let a guy go from waxing poetic about his love for his girlfriend to fucking you on his desk without a word about how you're doing something wrong and awful, it's difficult to say what lines you won't cross.
At least she ended it. That should be worth something.
No, it shouldn't. The only thing that would be worth something is if she hadn't done it in the first place. If she hadn't wanted him, or if she wanted him and pushed him away. Then it could have been an almost kiss that occurred because he was drunk, not a weeks-long whatever that made her feel used and alone. Makes her feel used and alone.
"And then... yeah," she says. "That's the end of that story."
"You seem distracted," Christina observes. (First name basis, like they're friends. And Liz supposes they sort of are, since she's not telling any of her friends about this, either.)
"Well, I'm tired. I guess that's the problem." That's part of the truth, at least.
She ends the session early, saying she has to get back to work. She wonders if she seems like a person who's hiding something.
*
"And tell him I'm not cutting the Swanson joke out of the stupid microwave sketch he wanted us to do. Who cares if we upset the Swanson people? Do they even make anything anymore? None of the TV dinners in my freezer are from Swanson. And--"
Pete interrupts with: "How much longer am I going to be the one who talks to Jack?"
"It's been a few days," Liz says, trying not to sound too flustered by the mention of Jack's name. Even though she was talking about Jack, somehow hearing his name... She doesn't want to hear it. "Also, it's not like it doesn't make sense for you to talk to him. You've talked to him. Just because I'm usually the one who deals with him doesn't mean you're not supposed to. Also, forever. You're going to deal with him forever."
She sounds so childish; this must be helping Pete to assume her problem with Jack is something minor. Something inconsequential that she's making into a major deal. Her suspicion is confirmed when he dismissively says:
"Sure. I will deal with Jack forever."
She nods. "That is what I said."
"So, basically, what I should tell him is that you have no respect for Swanson?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
*
She hates it, but she thinks about Jack all the time. About she and Jack. About what they used to be; what they've become. About his hand on her arm as they walked down the hall; his mouth on hers as he unbuttoned her jeans. About how this is what happens when you want something. You end up wanting the wrong things and let wrong things happen in service of that. (She's done this before, acted on her worst impulses when she's liked a guy, but this is worse.) Because she did want him. Regardless of why, whether she did somehow fall in love with him for a while or a part of her was attracted to him, she didn't sleep with Jack simply because he offered. She wanted him, and maybe it was obvious. Maybe that was why he started this with her, because he knew she'd allow it. Because he knew she'd let it go too far, because he liked having some power over her. Maybe it wasn't about sleeping with a woman who wasn't Elisa, but about sleeping with a woman who would do something terrible in service of him. A woman who knew who he was and whom he loved and would still let him screw her.
She thinks about how much she used to care for him, and she misses it. She misses him, or at least the person he made her believe he was. She wonders when that will go away.
Liz also finds herself missing who she thought she was, someone who followed rules and tried to be a decent person. And she blames Jack for slowly taking that away from her, for spending a chunk of their time together turning morality into nothing but gray areas she had to move through to get what she wants. She blames him, though it's not all his fault. She blames him because she's sick of hating herself.
**
Jack's never considered himself a cruel person; everything he's ever said or done that others would consider harsh came from practical considerations or a drive to be honest. But his thoughtless behavior toward his best friend and his girlfriend can't be tied to anything reasonable or truthful. He's not sure what the truth is, at least as it pertains to things deeper than the basic facts. He doesn't know what it is he'd hope for, if not expect, for the future. He still hasn't told Elisa; he hasn't talked to her at all since Liz stormed out of his office. He's made attempts to talk to Liz, but she hasn't acknowledged his presence when he's made said attempts. There have been witnesses to these moments, which have occurred in hallways and outside her office (she won't let herself be alone with him; he hasn't even caught her working late), and he can't help but wonder what conclusions people come to when they see such interactions. He doesn't know why the perceptions of others interest him; perhaps he wants an outside perspective to make things a little clearer to him.
It's strange, for once, to not know what he's doing, to not be working toward some goal. He doesn't know what he'd say to her if she did allow him an actual conversation. Nothing he could say would magically fix everything; his words mean nothing to Liz because she no longer views him as sincere. (He hopes that if they did get together and actually talk, they'd find a way to repair their relationship. This hope is why he keeps trying to engage her.) He longs for the time when she trusted him despite having no right to; he's the one who threw it away. They both did something wrong, but he took the first step, a step she never would have taken.
It's he who had responsibilities to two people and didn't stay committed to either one.
He sends Liz an e-mail begging her to come up to his office. We need to talk. She doesn't do what he asks. She doesn't respond.
*
"Liz wanted me to tell you how much she hates Swanson."
Jack raises his eyebrows. He's not sure what that could mean. "Excuse me?"
Pete seems to realize in a second that Jack isn't someone he kids around with. "She doesn't want to cut the joke. The Swanson joke. From the microwave sketch."
"Oh." He pauses. "Okay. Fine."
He's silent for a moment. "I was not expecting that answer. Is this what the two of you are fighting about?" And in that second, he realizes, "It is none of my business."
"The Swanson issue is not where our problems lie, no," Jack says.
"Okay," he says. "I'll go now."
*
It's after ten when Jack leaves his office. On its way down, the elevator stops at the sixth floor. He's surprised to see Liz standing there; he'd come down earlier looking for her and she wasn't in her office. He wonders if she was away from her desk temporarily or used someone else's workspace in order to avoid him. She doesn't take a step toward or away from him, seems to be frozen as she stares at him with slightly widened eyes. He puts a hand on the door to keep it from closing, as if he believes there's a chance she'll join him.
"We have to talk," he says. Perhaps she'll at least respond to him now, when they're alone.
"We don't, Jack. We really don't." She exhales. "Please leave."
He doesn't pull his hand away, but he also doesn't step off the elevator. "I want to fix this," he says, simply to say something.
"And how are you going to do that?" she asks.
He waits for an answer to come to him, to hit him as he's standing before her, but what he ends up with is, "I'm sorry."
"I know you're sorry. You said that already. I'm sorry. We're all very sorry. So good for us." She shakes her head, breaking eye contact. "I can't do this now. No, I can't do this ever, okay? Just stay away from me, and if you need to talk to me about the show, e-mail me. Talk to Pete. I don't care. I don't want to be around you. Okay? So leave." Her eyes meet his again and she weakly mutters, "I can't be around you. If you care about me even a little, you'll leave."
He pulls his hand away and takes a step back. As the door closes, he watches her gaze return to the floor.
*
Jack should have told Liz how important she is to him a long time ago, before all this happened. Not that he believes it would make a real difference now; it wouldn't assuage her guilt or make what they did okay. But, maybe, if he said you're the only actual friend I have or something that would sound more natural coming from him, she would at least believe it means something when he apologizes to her and it would be easier to repair things. Maybe she'd be able to spend more than a few moments in his presence without wanting him to get away from her. Maybe it wouldn't seem like he'd used her; maybe he wouldn't worry that he'd used her. Perhaps if he'd even said it at the time, whispered something other than her name while he was buried inside her, it wouldn't feel like what they shared was solely the result of a base impulse. Or maybe that would have made it worse; made him seem more like a liar. More like a man who wanted to manipulate her into taking off her clothes.
He wonders how many other people need the right context for honest words to sound like truth.
He thinks of Liz, months ago, watching him from his doorway because she was happy to have him back in her day-to-day life. He thinks of Elisa, weeks ago, wrapping her arms around him and accepting his offer of a future with him. He thinks of what it's like to love someone, and he thinks of picking up the phone.
He thinks of it, but doesn't do it.
END