Title: Asked and Answered

Author: Mindy

Rating: K

Disclaimer: Tina's etc. No money made.

Spoilers: minor, "Live Show", "Christmas Attack Zone".

Pairing: Jack/Liz, Jack/others

Summary: Future fic. Jack wants Liz to marry him.

A/N: Some tiny inspiration taken from "Suburban Girl".

-x-x-x-

Number of times he's proposed to Liz Lemon? Four.

Number of times Jack has been rejected? Four.

Though to be fair, the first two times he proposed, he was not completely conscious. So they hardly count. Making her perfectly right to turn him down. The first time, he was drunk. It was sometime after his second divorce. His hasty marriage to Avery Jessop lasted just three years and gave him one daughter. His first child. Their inevitable split was not a very amicable one and he dealt with this by reverting to a former, familiar habit. Making up for lost drinking time whilst with Avery, Jack remained determinedly drunk for the next six months. It was during this time that he first proposed to Liz. He doesn't recall much of the experience, which may be just as well. He only remembers her doing a lot of propping him up during that period, both physically and figuratively. He vaguely remembers mumbling something about marriage into her shoulder late one night when they were on a couch. He doesn't know whose couch. And he fell asleep before she could properly reject him.

But she would get another chance.

The second time he proposed to Liz Lemon was barely a year later, after his second heart attack. Actually, it wasn't a true heart attack. It was a cardiac episode caused by what the on-call doctor called 'Broken Heart Syndrome'. In any case, he was very heavily drugged afterwards. So he only vaguely recalls asking for her repeatedly and her being ushered into his room, the only speck of warmth he could detect in an otherwise sterile space. He remembers her falling asleep in the chair next to his bed, glasses askew and limbs limp as she snored blissfully away. And even as drugged as he was, Jack had a feeling that a part of him - a large part - had actually meant it that time. He'd had an underlying instinct that trying to hold onto Liz Lemon and what she so readily gave him was not such a crazy idea or simply a fleeting impulse. It was actually a very good, very sane response to many years of close association. Even so, he fully understood her not taking as serious the rambling proposal of a heartsick invalid who hadn't shaved in three days, was hooked up to all sorts of life-sustaining machines and had recently become frighteningly aware of his own mortality.

A lesser woman might have held him to a proposal made under such circumstances. A lesser woman might have later teased him about it. But Liz was not a lesser woman. Instead, she simply ignored him. Silently rejecting him, she never mentioned his second proposal again. Not even when three months later, he swiftly proposed to and even more swiftly married the nurse who had been visiting him daily at his home, taking care of him in his recovery. He and Roz had their daughter shortly afterwards. Like with Avery and little Colleen, the conception took place before anything else, reaping the same, predictable result. They now lived on the opposite side of the country and he barely saw either of them. Apparently, Tammy had his dark hair and liked ponies and pastries and butterflies and digging holes in the California sand.

The third time Jack asked Liz to marry him he was absolutely serious. It was two years after Roz left with Tammy. And this time, he meant what he said, he wanted exactly what he said he wanted. He was sober. And not in the midst of an existential crisis. He'd been dating, casually. But no one special. No one like Liz. Liz…was special. He'd always thought so, always said so. In his own way. Since the first and second rejection he'd received from her, he'd started rethinking his history, their history. He'd privately reviewed his choices, the choices that had brought him to where he was. Three times married, three times divorced. Alone. Aging. And without recurrent contact with his two children who themselves lived on different coasts of the country and barely knew each other. Liz herself had been in and out of romantic relationships over the years. None seemed to last very long or become very deep or give her whatever she seemed to be endlessly searching for. None seemed to bring out what was best in her either, what she was truly capable of. In fact, it struck him that the only person, the only man, who really got to glimpse that, was him.

So he invited her to dinner one night. Not dinner out. Not a hastily grabbed meal after work from which she would then flee home to her Tivo and he would move on to a real date. Not a fancy dinner in a hushed, stuffy restaurant in which he felt comfortable but she did not. Instead, Jack invited her to his home. The home he'd shared with three wives, a couple of girlfriends and two daughters, briefly. There were lingering touches of all these women in the house he still inhabited but mostly he regarded it as his space. Oddly, in all the years he'd known her, Liz had only been there a handful of times. So inviting her there seemed significant, like a new, bold start. He'd bought a new floor since his last divorce, outfitted it with a new kitchen and dining space. He'd told her all about it in the planning stages and now he wanted her to see it. More importantly, he wanted to be alone with her. He wanted to be free to express himself, to spill all he'd been contemplating. He wanted to create a little atmosphere, he wanted to cook for her. Knowing her love of food, Jack considered this the most meaningful, romantic gesture he could conjure up.

The evening did not go to plan. Liz wandered around his slick new space with a wineglass in her hand, gazing, sometimes poking, at the new décor, moving from one thing to the next with an impassive expression. Whenever he tried to touch her, she drifted out of his reach without even realizing his intent. And while he kept trying to steer the conversation towards more serious topics, toward them and a possible future for them, she kept chattering on about work and food and men and her ongoing adoption woes. Over dinner, he finally popped the question. He'd prepared a whole speech about how comfortable he was with her, how much he relied on and trusted her, how idiotic he'd been not to see it before. Liz didn't seem to know how to react. He watched various responses cross her features, from disbelief to amusement to consternation to aversion to panic. And then finally, hurt. He'd never expected that. He'd never meant to hurt her. He'd prepared himself for resistance, for surprise, for an initial refusal. But he hadn't been prepared for her to be insulted. And she was, deeply. She only became more so too, when she tried to explain to him why him trying to romance her, trying to seduce her, trying to turn her into someone he'd marry was such a offence to her, to their friendship. She left soon after, mad and teary and shaken. She didn't even finish his flawlessly cooked meal.

It took them awhile to recover from that night. They did, but slowly. Bit by bit, using both denial and tact in equal measures, their friendship returned to a tentative status quo. For a long while, Jack had no desire to disrupt that by repeating the experience of that night. His ego had taken a large enough hit for one thing. And for months, he cringed internally whenever he thought of that awful night, of how her brown eyes had bored into him, of what she'd said right before she stormed out, yelling over her shoulder as she tried to find her way out of his maze of an apartment. He'd never hated himself the way he'd hated himself that night, going to bed alone, having planned to have her there with him. In the aftermath, he'd truly thought he was done. He'd thought he'd never mention the idea again, never even think the thought in her presence. The only reason he did, the only reason he proposed a fourth time was because of Colleen. His first daughter adored Liz and always had. She'd spent enough time with her Godmother over the years that she'd come to love and trust her unreservedly. Essentially, Jack realized, she was the closest thing to a loving, accepting mother figure that Collie had ever had. Liz always managed to fill all the emotional holes that Avery so carelessly left in her daughter's solitary, small heart.

Collie was eight when she figured out he loved Liz. Delighted, she told him of this discovery one day when he took her out for ice cream after her flute recital. She thought it a wonderful thing, a perfect solution. Despite her mother disallowing them, his daughter had been feeding her young brain a steady diet of animated movies where servants fall in love with handsome princes and live happily ever after or princesses kiss frogs and find true love. Jack tried not to encourage her girlish fancies. He tried to put them down to the wishful thinking of a child from a broken home, a lonely little girl trying to create a little stability in her own life, hoping to invent a little fairytale all her own. He knew his daughter possessed both her mother's keenly discerning mind and his hopelessly romantic heart and he didn't wish to put even a tiny dint in either. So Jack simply waited for the notion to run its course. For a full year, it was all she spoke of, it was what she most wished for. She became obsessed with the idea him marrying Liz, of Liz being her bonus mom. She tried to convince him and Jack had to admit, she made some fairly good points. He suspected Collie also tried convincing Liz whenever the two might be alone. Because after they were, Liz never met his gaze properly.

In the end, Jack had to give some credence to his daughter's naive hopes. Not just because he did remember a time when he thought he might be head over heels in love with Liz Lemon. He did remember a time when his whole body used to react to her entering a room. He remembered a time when he couldn't wait to hear what she would say next, when his eyes used to run over her frame like he relished what he saw. A time when her presence in his life filled him with hope and excitement for a future he couldn't have predicted but craved with every fiber of his being. He wasn't sure what happened to that massive, soul-awakening feeling. He wasn't sure why it withered the way it did, why he let the most exciting thing to ever happen to him waste away before it even began. At the time it was happening, he probably assumed it would last indefinitely. It barely even occurred to him to act on it. It barely occurred to him that she might feel the same way, that Liz might possess a similar excitement, a similar connection with him as he felt towards her. It didn't occur to him that such things were exceedingly rare or had an expiration date. That there might only be a small window of time in which he could either act or lose his chance forever.

It hardly mattered now though, what could have been. What he or she might have felt a decade before. What mattered now was Colleen and what she wanted. And she was right. He did love Liz. He always had, really. Not in the same way he loved Bianca or CC or Elisa or Nancy or Avery or Roz. It wasn't like that at all. It wasn't wild, passionate, impulsive, overwhelming love. But it was something. Something else. Something steady. Something silent and sweet. Something that had grown and grown, secretly, incrementally. It was still love, just a much different sort. The sort that might last. The sort that was finally starting to make sense to him. The sort that was making him feel like a very old fool, running out of time to claim his happy ending. In fact, it was the only sort of love Jack wanted now, the only sort that seemed to hold any true value.

So the fourth time he proposed to Liz, he did it with no fanfare, no seduction scene and no wildly ambitious promises. The only thing he promised was that it would be the last time he'd ask. He remembered Liz being silent for a long time after he spoke. He likes to think she was actually considering his offer, not just mentally devising how to reject him. Again. Then she hugged him, a long, tight hug. Before refusing him quietly for the fourth time. She told him she would explain to Colleen and she did. His daughter was shattered by her decision, refusing to talk to either of them for a short time. And it stung Jack too, for a long time afterwards, far more than it had previously. Simply because he'd wanted it so damn much. He still did. He can't say he ever actually stopped wanting it.

Which is why a year later, Jack is about to break his promise. To himself and to her. He promised himself he wouldn't put himself through this again. He promised Liz he wouldn't ask her the question she didn't want to hear, a question that caused them both pain, though for differing reasons. He wishes now he hadn't made those initial, offhand, unwitting proposals. The careless words spewing forth from his mouth before he even knew that he honestly did wish to marry her. That he adored her, needed her, was happiest with her. That his future happiness rested on his words and her reply. They were missed opportunities, all of them, all his fruitless proposals and all the years that preceded and separated them. To this day, he still thinks of all the things he could have said to convince her, of how he still might make her feel what he felt. The same sense of urgency, of impending loss. The sense of everything being wrong and just how right it could be if only-. If only.

So one last time, he is going ask her. He is going to say the words that have been gathering in his mind. He is going to bare his heart, the heart that never quite learnt how to love her the way she deserved. Not until now, when it might be too late. It might be, he knows that. But he's going to ask anyway. He's going to ask Liz to marry him. Not because of all he can provide her with or all the fun they'd have. Not because of how much he has done for her or what a catch he still is. Not because they are both alone and don't wish to be. Not because he waits everyday for contact with her, expectant yet certain of it. And definitely not for all the selfish and egocentric reasons he spouted that horrible night at his apartment. Not even for little Colleen, no matter how much she loves Liz and Liz loves her. Not because Liz is his last chance, or vice versa. And not because of what could have been. Not because of what he used to feel for her but because of what he feels right now. And because he knows he'll regret not asking her this question the way it should always have been asked. From the heart, and truly considering all she is and means to him.

Reaching her door, Jack lifts a hand, knocks and waits for an answer, a child's scream drifting through the wood. She must be awake, despite the hour, no one could sleep through that. He's right, it seems, as a moment later, the door swings open and Liz stands there, looking wrecked, a bundle of crying, wriggling baby clamped to her drooping body. She sighs when she sees him, looks briefly down at her vomit and saliva stained t-shirt before she says something he doesn't hear. Probably she is questioning his presence at her door so late in the evening. But for a moment, blood rushes through his ears and everything is muted. Jack props both hands on the doorframe, tilts himself towards her:

"Lemon."

"Yes?"

"I'm going to ask you one more time."

"Ask me what?" she mutters, hitching her adopted son higher on her shoulder. This movement seems to displease him as his screams grow instantly louder and she pulls her ear away from the sound, rolling her eyes in exhaustion. "Oh my God…!"

Jack's arms drop back to his sides, his brow collapses. He looks at her a moment, the purple circles under her eyes, the tangle of her hair, her obviously frazzled state. "What's wrong with Will?"

Liz sighs again, wags her head. "Teething, I think. Or maybe he just wants to scream, I dunno..." There's a fleeting silence as the baby draws breath. Her eyes slide up to his face. "Is that what you wanted to ask me? Don't tell me you can hear him from your place?"

Jack steps inside the door, reaches for the chubby, distressed clump clinging so insistently to her. "Hey there, little man… " Liz visibly droops when Will releases her, is lifted from her. Jack turns the baby towards him, peers at his dark, welling eyes and tear-soaked face and damp, springy afro. "You need to get him out," he tells her, positioning him on his shoulder and patting his back. "Always worked with Collie. Come on. Put on some shoes and grab the stroller. We'll take a walk."

Liz nods once and moves to obey. Jack waits on the threshold with her new son squealing louder and louder until she returns and pokes her face near his to assure him of her proximity. Minutes later, they are walking slowly down the hot, unfriendly New York street. Jack is pushing Will in the stroller while Liz slops along beside him, feet dragging, shoulders slumped.

"What'd you wanna ask me?" she mumbles after they have been walking for awhile in silence, after Will has calmed somewhat. Before he can answer her though, she is drifting as if on autopilot to a pretzel cart and ordering a pretzel. She turns towards him a minute later, pretzel in hand, sauce dripping in fat globs onto her fingers. "M'sorry, what were you saying?"

Jack faces her, silent a moment, one hand on the pram, rocking it slightly. "I was going to ask you to marry me again."

"Oh," she says and starts walking again. She takes a large bite of her pretzel, chewing on it as they continue to stroll in silence.

"Is that all you have to say?" he murmurs after awhile.

"Um…" she sucks on a finger, glances over at him. "Please don't?"

He pulls his gaze back from hers, directs it forward. "Very kind, Lemon, thankyou."

"Sorry, but…" she shrugs, eyes lowered to her dripping treat. "I'm running out of ways to tactfully say no. And I'm so sleep-deprived right now that I might accidentally slip up and say yes, and then where would we be?"

"Married, I'd say. That's usually where proposals lead."

"Yeah, that's…kinda what I'm afraid of."

"My God. You really do not want to marry me, do you?" he mutters but his inquiry is met with a long silence. "Would it really be that bad?" he asks but again, he is answered only by silence. "Lemon…? Lemon!"

Her head snaps up, eyes blinking. "Oh, sorry, what? I think I fell into a micro-sleep. I'm like a horse now, I sleep on my feet."

Jack runs a furtive eye over her, top to toe. "You know…being in a relationship means sharing the child-rearing responsibilities."

She casts him a disapproving look. "Jack."

"What?"

She snorts softly, ripping pieces off her pretzel and shoving them in her mouth. "I'm not going to marry you just so's I can get some sleep."

"Well, there would be other benefits too," he murmurs, leaning closer, letting his shoulder brush hers. "Shall I highlight a few for you?"

"No," she answers quickly, her brow creasing with distress. "Just- cut it out, okay? Please. I don't want to have this conversation again. You and I…let's just leave it, it's a bad idea."

"But why?"

"Why what? Why don't I want to have this conversation or-"

"No." He stops walking, turning to face her. "Why would you and I be such a bad idea? Why won't you marry me?"

Liz stops too, after a few more steps, but when she faces him her gaze drops to the infant in the stroller. "Jack, don't stop," she orders softly. "He's nearly asleep."

Jack resumes their steady pace, letting out a large breath. "Well?" he prompts eventually. "I'm still waiting for an answer."

Liz gives a little humph. "You know, it's weird, you've never actually asked me that before."

"I've never been rejected this many times by a woman before," he replies.

"No. Jack-" Her voice rises in pitch, one hand cutting the air in a definitive gesture. "This is not rejection. I'm not rejecting you-"

"So then you're accepting?"

Her voice drops again. "That's not what I meant."

"Well, if you're not accepting my offer, then you must be rejecting it. Again."

She lets out a frustrated sigh, wiping her forehead with her hand before telling him, "Listen, my friend, in order for me to reject you, you'd need to really mean what you are saying. And you don't. You do not want to marry me."

"Actually, I do," he returns swiftly. "I think five proposals more than proves that. I've put a lot of thought into this, over many years. And I want this. I want you. It's you that doesn't want it and I'm asking you why. I think you owe me that much, you owe me some explanation."

"You want to know why? Really?" She turns to him, meets his eyes.

"Yes."

"And you want the truth?" she says, eyebrows lifted. "The absolute truth?"

He nods, straightening his spine. "The absolute truth, Lemon."

"Oh boy…" She looks forward again, her step slowing but not stopping. "I'm not sure how to say this."

"Just say it," he tells her, giving her a dim sideways grin. "Or I'll just keep asking."

Liz gives a mirthless half-laugh then lowers her head. Her gaze is still on the pavement underfoot when she starts to speak, in a voice he rarely gets to hear, faltering but serious. "I've thought about this too, Jack, I have. You wouldn't let me not think about it. And I admit there was a time when I thought about-" she pauses for a long moment, "us…that way. There was a time when I…wanted you that way. Felt that way. About you."

Jack watches her, waits for more. "…But?"

"But, Jack-" She lifts her head, looks at him briefly then casts her eyes around at the people passing on the street, the traffic whizzing by. "But I've watched you marry two different women. I've watched you be husband to them, be a father to their children and you're a great father, Jack, you really are." She puts a hand on his arm as she says this then quickly withdraws it, letting it drop back to her side. "But…you can't be those things to me now. I can't see you that way now. You belong to them. You're theirs."

They walk on, their strides evenly matched, the noise of the city passing them by.

"I could belong to you that way," Jack tells her finally, voice low. "If you'd let me. We could belong to each other, with each other."

"No." She shakes her head. "We can't."

"Why?" He doesn't take his eyes off her face. "Why not, Lemon?"

Liz shakes herself slightly, gives a huff. "I don't think I want to marry, actually. I thought I did. But I'm not sure I'm really cut out for it. And…I kind of like it just being me and Will. I'm- well, if not happy, then I'm at least content." She glances over at him, adding, "As things are."

"Couldn't they be better though?" He stops, lets go of the stroller and reaches for her instead, running his hands up her arms and attempting to draw her close despite her body instantly stiffening. "Couldn't we make each other happy? Really happy, Lemon? Don't you think you deserve that? Don't you think we both deserve a happy ending?"

"Jack-"

"Just think about it, please, try to imagine it. You, me, Collie and Will. It could be so perfect, Lemon, so easy. If you'd just say yes, if you'd just let me, I could make you so happy. I'll do whatever it takes. We can still make it work, I know we can-"

"Stop, Jack, just-" She squirms out of his grasp, takes a deliberate step back. "Stop." Her eyes lift to his and there's that hurt look again, that pained glimmer which tells him he's pushed too hard, he's crossed a line.

"What?" he murmurs, a sinking feeling in his gut. "What did I do? I'm just telling you how I feel, what I want-"

"I know, I know. That's the problem."

"What? What are you talking about?"

Her head drops back on her neck and she gazes up at the night sky for a moment, releasing a bitter, throaty moan. Her expression when she meets his gaze again is exhausted, exasperated. "Jack, you just…you want…so much. And you want so intensely. But…what happens to it? What does all that wanting get you? Where does all that love go?"

He shifts on his feet, frowning. "What's your point?"

"I can't be something you want like that," she says, pressing her pretzel to her chest, leaving another stain on her shirt. "I want you in my life, Jack, but I don't want you to want me that way. It's too much! I can't stand it. And I couldn't stand watching, waiting for it to end."

"I don't want you like that," he insists, shaking his head slowly. "And it won't end. This is different."

She gives him a knowing smile, head tilted. "Yeah. It always is."

"Liz…" He takes a step towards her, his tone soft. Her eyes meet his warily and she allows one hand to rest lightly on her shoulder. "How I feel about you is different. Different to anything I've felt for any other woman. I want to show you that. I need you to tell me it's not too late for me to prove that to you. And I will, every single day. If you agree to marry me."

Liz is silent a long moment. She looks down, breaking eye contact with him. "I'm sorry, Jack."

His hand drops away, his eyes remain on her face. "Still no, huh?"

"I'm sorry," she tells him simply, sadly. "I just don't feel the same way. I don't want what you want. Not anymore."

"You're saying I had my chance? I actually had a chance and I missed it?"

"Jack…" She shakes her head, looking at him like he should already know the answer to his own question. "You had a million chances. You just…didn't notice."

Jack shifts back on his heels, shuffling away from her and looking around at nothing, at the city, at its chaos. "Wow."

"What?"

He runs a hand over his graying, dishevelled hair, a low moan emanating from the depths of his gut. "I…I really messed this up, didn't I? There was something here, wasn't there?"

"I don't know," Liz sighs, reaching for the stroller. "Does it matter now?"

He touches her wrist lightly to stop her. "No. Lemon. I mean…there was really something here. Wasn't there? Something good. Something…great. Between us. You and me." He pauses, eyes connecting with hers, pining them. "…Wasn't there."

Liz looks at him a long time, breath held. "Yeah," she says finally. "There was. Once."

"Yeah…" He nods a few times, swallowing back a sudden, immense swell of regret and love and pain and longing. "Yeah."

Liz sees the emotion creasing his face and moves into him, putting a hand on his arm. "Hey. You know I love you, right? I mean, I do love you, Jack, you know that."

He nods some more, scanning her face with his eyes. "You just don't want me."

She shakes her head, lowers it. "Our timing was off, that's all. Nothing either of us can do about that."

Jack is silent a moment. "Liz."

"Yeah?" She looks up.

"If you change your mind, you'll let me know, won't you?"

Her face erupts into a bemused grin. "Jack, come on! You're gonna find someone else-"

"No," he interjects. "No, I won't. So promise me. Even if we're old and gray-"

"Well, that could be next week."

"I mean it." He draws in a breath. "If you ever change your mind, for whatever reason..."

Liz nods, her expression serious again, and fond. "I'll let you know, Jack. Promise."

"Good," he says. "Because I love you too."

She smiles, some color returning to her cheeks.

He scratches his temple, musing, "I really should have led with that, now that I think of it."

She laughs a little, leaning into him.

"And I should have realized it earlier. I wish I had." He picks up her hand from his arm, looks at it a moment then loosely knits her fingers with his. "But even if you don't…well, anyway. You should know that I do."

"Thanks, Jack," she says and lifts her hand to stroke his cheek once. "Thankyou." Her hand drops again and weaves round his elbow. "Come on..."

And arm in arm, they walk on. Liz offers up her half-eaten pretzel for him to take a bite of as he simultaneously steers her sleeping son's stroller through the thickening masses. They quicken their pace to catch a green light, sprinting to join the small crowd crossing the street before disappearing into it.

END.