The Other Man.

Inspired by detective-majorcrimes' post on Tumblr: "Can Andy punch Jack square in the jaw?" Set halfway through ep 4x12, written before airing. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. ;)


"Jack!"

At the sound of his name bouncing off the walls of the enclosed parking lot, Jackson Raydor paused, mid-stride. He was about halfway to his car and already nursing a bottle of scotch in his mind's eye… but the opportunity standing behind him was too damn good to pass up.

"Flynn," he greeted cheerfully, smearing a smug, toad-like grin across his face as he spun around. Sharon had worked hard to keep the two of them busy in separate rooms over the past seven hours, and it made savouring this moment all the sweeter. "Heard you've been getting 'better-acquainted' with my cold-hearted bitch of an ex-wife. Need some tips on thawing that ice, buddy?"

Andy's eyes glittered dangerously as he stalked towards him, but his movements were stiff, restricted. Jack's smile stretched further across his face. "Tell me," he called out, inspecting his cuticles as the great Lieutenant Flynn gradually closed the distance between them, "has she let you bed her yet?"

Jackson's knowing wink drew a deep, guttural noise from Andy as he suddenly jerked forwards, catching himself with a grimace.

"Careful," Jack warned, wiggling a thick finger in the air, just out of Andy's reach. "Wouldn't want to upset those cracked ribs of yours." He watched with no small amount of satisfaction as a dark flush crept up Flynn's neck. Upping the man's blood pressure was almost too easy.

"I came down here to say that you forgot something," Andy ground out, one arm wrapped around his torso while the other dangled the brown leather briefcase he had discovered tucked away in Sharon's office from his fingertips. It hadn't been the briefcase itself that had drawn his attention down the side of the sofa – Sharon had one just like it – but the small slip of French lace peeking out from one of the pockets. "You put it there deliberately didn't you, like some sick calling-card. Another piece of your crap for Sharon to deal with." Andy's right hand clenched into a fist. "And then I realized I'm the one who's forgotten something."

Too late, Jack realized his misstep. "Now, now," he began, raising two plump hands placating, "let's not do anythi-!"

"Sorry, Jackass." Swinging his arm backwards, Andy hurled the briefcase at the other man with as much force as his injured body could muster. It was heavy, stuffed full of case notes and documents Jack had been intending to sue the LAPD with, and it picked up velocity well, dragging a startled Oomf from its owner as it collided with his protruding gut. Winded, Jack doubled over with a grunt, giving Andy plenty of time to stagger forwards and smash his fist into the other man's jaw.

Jack dropped to the ground like a lead weight.

"Mess with her again and I won't stop at one," Andy growled, releasing his hold on the briefcase over Jack's stomach. The was a second, startled Oomf.

"You do realize that there are about a million cameras in this parking lot, right?" Jack choked out, spitting blood across Andy's shoe. "I've got you bang to rights for aggravated assault!"

Despite the white hot pain flaring through his chest, Andy smiled. "Not if Buzz knows anything about electronics." Wiping his shoe against Jackson's side, he turned to leave. "I'll see you at Thanksgiving, Jack."

He managed three halting steps before Jackson croaked out: "Thanksgiving?"

Andy paused but didn't turn around, voice strained. "You may be a scumbag of a father, but you're still a father. Disappoint your kids again and you'll have me to answer too. I'll send a car."

He left the other man crumpled on the floor.