Law And Order - Series Fan Fiction ❯ With apologies to Sanpei Hayashiya ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: All rights belong to Wolf Films and Nintendo.

 

Author's Note: It's another postponed Kim Greylek/Jack McCoy fic. (The story has been delayed and revised considerably, courtesy of my computer woes.) I was inspired by my re-playing of Pokémon Gold/Silver. It's just an experiment in self-referential humor, so no worries if I'm off the mark.

 

Nota bene: See my profile regarding any proofreading issues. I'll try to do as many as possible, until I have a long-term, non-malfunctioning computer and re-edit any errors accordingly.

 

Timeline: A few days subsequent to “Transitions.”

 

 

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A statuesque, young woman was punching a blue blob-shaped inflatable in her office. Her fists were aimed onto its crooked expression.

 

“Sonansu!” it chirped mechanically.

 

“Really?”

 

It bobbed back and forth. “Sonansu!”

 

“Really?”

 

There was a gangly, older man behind her open door, tapping the windowpane. “Kim, what are you doing?”

 

She stepped backward. “Oh, Jack, I was just releasing some inner tension with my, um, punching bag. Do you require my services, or are you here because of this?”

 

He marched inside, his skull cocked. “It's the former, with the Blaine case file. I would have picked it up sooner, if it weren't for my new schedule. I took a chance, since you usually stay put at lunchtime.”

 

“Right.” She stretched to her desk and offered him a manila folder.

 

“Good. So, that's a punching bag?”

 

“My ex-husband bought it in a trip to Japan. Sorry, I'll put it back.” She seized the object and headed for her closet.

 

“You don't need to do that, necessarily. I've never seen one so strange-looking before.”

 

She placed it close by. “I'll assuage your fears by saying that it is only around during my lunch break and certain off hours. I wouldn't have done so this time, had I known there were still people about — my mistake. It clears my head, gives me exercise and avoids lawsuits. I'm sure you have your own methods to relieve frustration.”

 

“Good, for I was becoming worried. To answer your question, I usually stick with my motorcycles.”

 

“Well, you have your motorcycles, and I have my Wobbuffet, here.” Her palms were upturned.

 

He raised his eyebrows. “`Wobbuffet'?”

 

“It's the English name of a Pokémon; my little, blue friend cries out the Japanese equivalent.” She veered away.

 

“Didn't the fad end, years ago?”

 

“It's not as popular as it once was, but it's still around. You want to hit it?”

 

He performed a headshake. “Kim, I'm not doing that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“The sheer silliness?”

 

She was alongside him, gesturing at the balloon. “If you're worried about feeling immature, you shouldn't. If you can envision Wobbuffet as the one person you've always wanted to smack upside the head, then it isn't so silly.”

 

“I'm not a pugilist; I don't solve things with my fists.”

 

Kim licked her lips. “Even so, it helps you channel aggression, so you don't succumb to it in the future.”

 

He had done a steeple gesture. “Clears your head, does it?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well, there is one person that could fit the bill, these days.” Jack softly slapped Wobbuffet.

 

“Sonansu!”

 

He repeated his action, striking with force.

 

“Sonansu!”

 

He walloped the item onto the floor, which sprung back into its original position.

 

“Sonansu!”

 

She tilted her chin upward. “Don't you feel better?”

 

He massaged his right hand. “No comment.”

 

“If you ever need it, Jack, you can borrow it whenever you want.”

 

“Another time, perhaps. Since we're on the topic, shall we address your anxiety?”

 

Kim's forearms were folded near her body. “If I didn't have Wobbuffet, then you would have legitimate cause for concern. You can ask my Washington superiors, as it was an occasional fixture down there.”

 

He deeply inhaled. “I just want to see how far you were willing to go. I had the same conversation with my bosses over my bike, so I do appreciate your position.”

 

“It's so easy to explain it to fellow prosecutors. Like I said, we all have our ways of venting.”

 

“Which is why you can keep your `little, blue friend,' providing you don't overdo things. I trust you won't take advantage of my generosity.” Jack was walking toward the doorframe.

 

She smiled fairly. “I will not, and thank you. May I ask whom it was you were picturing?”

 

He paused, his upper lip coiled. “It was my campaign opponent — he's been trying himself, lately. What about you?”

 

“I'm currently alternating between two stubborn police officers. Good luck to you, by the way.”

 

He resumed his course. “Thank you, Kim.”

 

Alone, she poked the top of Wobbuffet's head.

 

“Sonansu!”

 

She lightly smacked her brow. “Really?”

 

 

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