What's in a Name?


A/N: My first stab at the 30 Rock fandom. Although I won't ask for your pity, as after two years of religiously watching the show I figure I don't have an excuse for bad writing.

DISCLAIMER: No. Just...no.

"Oh, for the love of Richard Nixon!" Jack regarded the paper in his hands with a look of disgust. "Lemon, what exactly is this?"

"It's, the uh, script." Liz coughed awkwardly and gazed at her bicurious shoes. "y'know. The one you wanted...for Deborah's show."

The silence that engulfed Jack's office was possibly enough to make Liz want to spontaneously stress-eat without probable cause. Except there was probable cause, because it being this quiet in the vicinity of her boss could only mean one of two things- either he was about to list off all the things he would rather do than put her writing into motion, or...

Well, she wasn't quite sure of the other one yet.

"Elizabeth Alice Lemon, lend me a moment so I can tell you just what things I'd rather do than read this script." He cleared his throat professionally, as if he was reading from cue-cards at one of his fancy black tie events. "Number one..."

The first thought that crossed Liz's mind was how ridiculous it was that the guy who approved MILF Island was now telling her that he'd rather be dragged by a polar bear off of a cliff into a pit of hippie liberals by a than even spare one more glance at her writing. The second was that her middle name was Alice.

Wait a second.

Her middle name was Alice.

She stared in shock for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Jack didn't seem to notice, however, as he just went rambling on about drinking the piss of Satan.

Was he psychic?

No. Blerg. That would just suck. She must have told him at some point- but when? Liz can't remember being drunk with Jack since a few months ago.

"Lemon, stop staring at me. It's unsettling."

"I'm...sorry. Jack, what did you say my name was?"


"No, I mean...I mean, my real name."

"...Lemon." He furrowed his brow and looked truly perplexed by the question. "Of course your name is Lemon. Now, if you'll let me continue...where was I?"

"Having a private audience with the entire Clinton family." She supplied offhandedly.


The only plausible explanation was that she had been imagining it. But just as this conclusion was reached, his gruff voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Elizabeth Alice Lemon, are you listening to me?"

Liz nodded dazedly. As weird as it was, she found herself oddly content that there was only one person outside her family and therapist who had bothered to remember real middle name- and, despite her convictions otherwise, genuinely happy that this person was Jack Donagy.

But if you asked her about it, she'd deny the entire thing and pop open a bag of German cheese doodles. It's not like it's really that important, anyway.