Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to 30 Rock.

Chapter 1 — Pancakes and Wine

"It's not mine, Lemon. The baby's not mine," Jack said as he slung his jacket over the back of a chair.

"What?" Liz asked, fumbling to lock the door behind him.

"I'm not the father of Avery's baby," he said. "We went to the doctor today for a check-up. She's 13 weeks along. I hadn't even met her then. Apparently Dodcacil can mask the signs of pregnancy for up to five months. It's a fluke she found out so early, and… good God, Lemon, what did you burn in here?"

"Oh, I made pancakes for dinner. I always burn the first ones in the pan, especially when I add chocolate chips."

"Did you burn all of them?" He looked at her hopefully.

"I'll get you some." She dragged her tousled hair back as she walked to the refrigerator. She put a stack of leftover pancakes in the microwave, and he watched as she stretched to reach the syrup at the top of the cabinet. The hem of her boxer shorts was frayed and the old T-shirt was pocked with tiny holes. But she'd opened her door without hesitation or question at 2 a.m., and she was handing him a plate of pancakes swimming in syrup.

Liz stood in front of Jack as he dropped onto the couch and raised his fork.

"Jack, I'm sorry. I'm sorry about the baby."

He looked up with wounded eyes. "Me too, Lemon."

She watched detachment wash into those eyes, denying the presence of sadness before.

"But what about Avery?" she asked.

"What about Avery?" he returned the question.

"I mean, what changed? Why aren't you at her place now?"

"She's still having the baby and is now considering suing the father, apparently a crew member at the network."

"Of course," Liz said. "What else would she do? But Jack — she conceived the baby before you met her. She didn't cheat on you. You've spent weeks telling me reasons you love her. So why are you here?"

He rubbed a chunk of his pancake around in the syrup before lifting the dripping bite to his mouth.

"Well, she couldn't cheat because we weren't exclusive," he said. "But the moments the doctor spent narrowing the due date became a sexual tell-all worthy of confession."

"Not like you weren't spending a lot of time with Nancy then," Liz said reasonably.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. I'm not blaming Avery for seeking her own pleasure. I admired… loved, even… her aggressive nature, biting wit, and conservative ideals, but in that moment that the doctor said the baby couldn't be mine, I knew that I was with Avery because of the baby, not the things I loved about Avery. We could keep having fun, or I could accept the inevitable end now."

"So that's done," Liz said. "And you've realized your biological clock is ticking as loudly as mine. I expect you to mock me much less about that now."

He barked a brief laugh.

"Ah, Lemon," Jack said as he pushed the empty plate across the coffee table and leaned back on the couch. "You are as comforting as ever in a time of turmoil."

"I do what I can," she said, tucking her feet under herself and rubbing her arms. "Why do you always get cold when you get out of bed in the middle of the night, even when the room is warm?"

"Stop grousing and get a blanket — not your Slanket, please; that thing is repulsive — so you won't chatter into incomprehensibility before I leave," Jack said.

She twisted her body over the arm of the couch, coming up triumphantly with a fleece blanket she wrapped around her shoulders.

"So explain to me again why Avery's not right. And where does this leave things with Nancy? I just can't believe that after all the pros and cons I've heard from you lately that both of these relationships are just… dead."

"Can I get some wine?" he asked abruptly. Liz waved him toward the kitchen and settled into the corner of the couch as he banged around the kitchen. She blinked owlishly and covered a yawn. Her body screamed for sleep, but Jack had listened to her too many times for her to kick him out when he needed to talk.

"Hey, why do all your crises happen after hours when I at least have the decency to only distract you from work with my problems?" she called toward the kitchen.

"Lemon, I have a personal life," he snorted, sticking his head around the kitchen doorway. "Are you drinking with me?"

She shook her head and he came back to the living room with a bottle of red wine and one glass. He had loosened his tie and tossed it on top of his jacket, and he sat facing her, leaning back against the arm of the couch.

"Avery and Nancy," he said, swirling the wine in his glass and pausing to think. "That night at the wedding, Nancy asked what I loved about her, and she made me tell her what I loved about Avery."

"Ick," Liz said supportively.

"Indeed," Jack said. "And do you know what I told her? I said I wanted to take naps with Nancy and do all kinds of domestic things and feel rooted in my past. And I said that I loved Avery's fire and sharp edges. But then all the sharp edges turned into a relationship about another child, another possible comfortable, conventional married life."

He took a bolt of the wine and swirled the glass again.

"Good heavens, my biological clock really is ticking," he said. "For children, perhaps, but really for people to share my life with."

"Welcome to your post-midlife crisis, Jack," Liz said, cuffing him lightly on the shoulder.

He scowled at her.

"It's a thing. Like my dirty thirties," she said, nodding sagely.

"And clearly it's not a thing I can fix in one night," he said as he refilled his glass. "And the days of your dirty thirties are numbered."

"Wanna watch TV?" she asked.

He nodded, and she leaned across him for the remote on the end table. She began flipping through channels.

"Comedy to take your mind off your problems, or drama to give your raging hormones an outlet so you can cry?" she asked.

"Give me that," he said, snatching the remote. "I'm not in menopause."

She laughed and dropped to one elbow in the middle of the couch. He stopped on a rerun of that evening's Yankees game.

"What an all-American male choice," she said dryly.

"I have to do something to assert my manhood after talking about babies and love and drinking a really atrocious red. Really, Lemon, we need to go to a wine tasting so I can introduce you to much better stuff."

"Huh," she grunted, beginning to drift a little as her exhaustion and the monotony of the game combined in a somnolent cloud.

Jack kept drinking the atrocious wine. The next time he looked over, Liz was sprawled over, one leg twisted beneath her and her neck cricked back at a precipitous angle.

"Lemon," he said, nudging her shoulder. "Lemon," he repeated as his jostling had no effect.

She slung an arm out suddenly, tipping herself forward. Jack took advantage of gravity's action to also push her legs out from under her so that she ended up curled on her side. It looked reasonably comfortable.

With Lemon settled, he turned back to the TV, keeping his glass full as he watched the game and thought of the woman and dream of a child that he had lost that day.