"All right, people," finished Sergeant Getraer, "hit your beats."
Joe closed his black binder and quickly strode out of the briefing room to his office. The officers, most still sitting, heard the expected "Bang" as his office door was closed. All of the officers began looking at their peers, apprehension and worry showing on their faces. Finally, Grossman broke the silence.
"Man, he's been acting like that for over a week. He won't talk to us except straight cop stuff, never goes to lunch or social events with any of us, and never smiles -- ever!"
"The worst thing, if you ask me," replied Bear quietly, "is that he keeps shutting that damn door. It's like he's shutting us all out. I mean, I know he must still feel horrible about shooting Jon, but really-he's hurting us too!"
Slowly, all the eyes turned to Jon. His bulletproof vest was sitting on the desk since his sore back made it impossible to wear. Still, Getraer insisted that he carry it with him. Jon didn't think it was necessary to carry the vest around while he worked at the front desk; the doctors wouldn't let him back on patrol for another week. Whenever he tried to broach the topic with Joe, though, he simply cut him off and walked away. Jon's face flushed. He knew everyone was hoping he could solve the problem. The trouble was Jon didn't even know where to start. He just quietly stood up and headed to the locker room behind Ponch.
Every morning, Baker woke up and looked at the large bruise on his back. Every morning, a cold fury took hold of him as the sights and sounds of the gunshot he had taken came back to him. Some days he literally had to shake himself to control the emotions.
"I can't believe I'm acting like this," he would tell himself, "I've been wounded in Vietnam -- in a war! But I never felt like this."
"Yes," his mind would respond, "but were you shot by one of your best friends, and were you shot in the back?"
A loud "BANG!" snapped him back to the present. He looked over at Ponch to see him glaring angrily at his locker. He had never seen Ponch so angry before last week, but sadly he's seen the same look ever since.
"Man!" spat Poncherello, "I don't know where those guys get off. I mean, they expect you to make things better with Getraer? HA! Don't they realize he shot you? How can you fix that? How can you fix the fact that I've been riding by myself for the last week, worried that any backup call I make might turn out like the last one?"
"Ponch," started Jon softly.
"Don't even try it, Baker. I'm not going to let this drop. There is a serious problem here. I, for one, do not feel safe working with people like him out on the streets."
As he was talking, Bear, Grossie, and Turner were walking into the locker room. They stopped half in and half out of the door, staring at Ponch. Grossie's mouth hung open and he was for once speechless.
Finally, Turner spoke up as he pushed the other two into the room, "There. Someone has finally said it. I know you guys all feel the same way, I know I do. Hell, yesterday Grossie came and backed me up on a traffic violation. I spent more time looking over my shoulder than watching the driver."
"Hey now!" erupted Grossman, "I'd never do anything to hurt any of you guys."
"Yeah, Grossie, we know," replied Jon, "the trouble is that two weeks ago you'd have said the same about Joe." Looking right at Ponch, he said, "Even you would have felt safer with Getraer as your backup."
Ponch looked at Jon for a moment, and then his eyes softened slightly, "Yeah, I guess I would have."
Ponch was about to say more when the locker room door opened again and Joe Getraer walked in, a very stern expression on his face. "Hey, fellas, the state is not paying you to sit here. Save it for the ladies aid meeting and get out there, eh?"
Unfortunately for Joe, he unknowingly came within two strides of Ponch. In one swift motion, Ponch launched off his feet and before anyone could even blink their astonished eyes, Ponch punched Getraer square in the face.
As a bewildered "Oh my God," escaped Jon's lips, Joe's world turned black and he slumped to the ground.
#####
Joe came to laying on one of the benches in the locker room. He could hear people talking quietly around him and could pick out some of the voices of his officers. His face hurt considerably, Joe had never been hit so hard in his life. He tried to open his eyes, but the right eye would not open. Before he could try speaking, someone put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't talk, Sarge," said Bear, "your face is really puffed out on the right side. That's why you can't open your right eye, it's swollen shut. Other wise, you don't look too bad, but we need to have you checked out to be sure Ponch didn't break anything."
Joe raised his eyebrows as if to begin to protest, but Bear cut him off, "Don't even try to tell us otherwise, Sarge. You're going to the hospital for at least a x-ray. You'd do the same to us and you know it."
Joe nodded slightly and tried to look around the room. Almost all the officers not on patrol were now packed into the locker room hovering over their sergeant, many talking in low voices about what had just happened. Bonnie, like all the women, had ignored the "Men" sign and came up to Joe with a wet cloth.
"Here, Sarge, this will try to keep the swelling down," she said as she laid the cloth on his face. The swollen cheek was already turning dark blue. "I heard the paramedics down the hall. They should be here now. I'm going to go check on Ponch and Jon."
At the mention of Ponch's name, Sarge's eye opened wide and he groaned as his tightened face sent a jolt of pain through his body. "Where?" he whispered.
"Ponch is sitting one aisle over from you, Joe. He, Jon, and Grossman are talking. Joe, please try not to be too angry at Ponch. He really feels horrible about this and well-" She stopped as Joe's face turned dark red and his one working eye narrowed to a slit. Bonnie had to hold herself to the bench to stop the urge to back up from the hatred she saw in the man before her. But then, in an instant, the color left his face. Instead, he turned very pale.
Just that moment, two paramedics wearing helmets with the numerals "51" stenciled on the front wheeled a stretcher into the room. They rushed over to Getraer and began to check over his face. They quietly put a neck brace on and put him on the stretcher. In only a few minutes, with very few words spoken, the men left with the sergeant.
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"Ponch, what came over you?" asked Jon as they watched the paramedics put Getraer on the stretcher.
"I don't know, man," replied Ponch quietly, "I just couldn't stand the fact that he was the guy who shot my partner. You're a part of my family. Someone shooting you is like someone shooting my brother. I mean-I don't know what I mean. I just got so angry, and then he comes in here pretending he doesn't care about us and all. What if he wasn't pretending?"
"Now, you don't believe that. You know Joe better than that. You know he didn't shoot me on purpose. You know you would have taken that same shot if our positions were reversed. That's what we're trained to do. That's what we do." Yes, it is what we do, Jon realized to himself. He tried to put himself in Joe's shoes. Would he take the shot under those circumstances, even if it were Ponch that guy was holding? "Yes, I would," he realized.
Ponch looked up at Jon uncertainly and replied, "I don't know, man. I just don't know."
#####
Later that night, well after visiting hours were over, Ponch poked his head into Getraer's hospital room. "The power of a badge," he thought to himself.
Ponch wasn't quite sure why he had come to the hospital. He had been surprised when he heard they were keeping him overnight for observation. He didn't think he had struck Joe that hard. He had convinced himself that he just needed to make sure Joe wasn't hurt too badly. He still believed he was right about Getraer.
As he was about to turn in leave, Joe turned his head and mumbled, "Who's there? Frank? Frank, is that you?"
Ponch didn't move, unsure whether to answer or not.
"Frank, come here," he said, gesturing to a nearby seat. "We have a lot to talk about."
"Don't, er...don't you need to rest?" Ponch asked.
"Thanks for the concern, Dr. Poncherello, but I think I'll be able to stay awake for a minute or two. Come on over here and sit down, please," Joe said softly.
Not sure he was doing the best thing, Poncherello walked over next to his sergeant. As he sat down , he noticed the IV line running to Joe's wrist as well as some leads running to other monitors.
Joe, seeing Ponch looking over the support equipment, whispered slowly, "Your killer punch bruised my jaw bone, so it really hurts to open my mouth. They have to feed me via IV. That's why I'm here tonight. The swelling should be down enough tomorrow and I can go home, though I won't be back to work for a little while."
Ponch stared at the IV, not sure what to say. Then, he slowly looked up at his boss, mentor, and friend, and whispered, "Sarge, uh-I don't know how to say this, but-but I'm sorry." He turned and looked at his feet, embarrassed by the pain his anger and unprofessionalism had caused.
Joe opened his mouth to respond, but just then the hospital door opened and the blond head of Jon Baker poked in. He quietly looked in and seeing Ponch, tried to duck out without being seen. It was Joe who saw him first though and said, "Jon, Jon come in here and sit down, please. The three of us have a lot of things to discuss, and I think we should start talking right now."
"Ah, Sarge," replied Jon, "I just wanted to see if you were OK. You need your sleep. I'll come talk to you later."
"No, you won't. I'm still your boss. If you don't sit down, I'll have Frank come over and smack you one," he replied. He tried to smile but the pain the motion made caused him to grunt slightly instead.
Jon, concerned about Getraer, came over and sat down next to Ponch. "Are you all right, Sarge?"
"Yeah, I'm ok, but don't make me laugh, ok?"
"Ok. It's a deal."
"You know, guys, Frank gave me some time to think this afternoon. I've been replaying the events from last week over and over in my head. At first, I kept getting mad at myself for shooting you, then I got mad at myself for missing the suspect. Then, I finally realized that I did what needed to be done. I tried to figure out what we should have done differently. The only answer I come up with is that we should have waited for back up. Had we done that, none of this would ever have happened."
"Yeah," replied Ponch, "that's what I thought at first too, but I've been thinking today too. You know, if we'd have waited for backup, we may very well have lost that guy. Plus, I tried to imagine what I'd have done if it were me who had the open shot. Would I have pulled the trigger? You know, it took me hours to realize it, but you were right, Jon, I would have shot. It was then that I stopped feeling so angry towards you, Sarge"
"You'd have shot me?" asked Jon, incredulously.
"No," replied Ponch with a small grin, "I spend more time at the range, I'd have hit the suspect." All three chuckled for a moment and then turned silent, listening to the steady tone of the monitoring equipment watching Getraer's vitals.
"You know, guys," said Getraer softly, "we need to get some real help here. We've made good steps tonight. Frank even said he doesn't hate me anymore. But we've got a long way to go. Jon, I want you to look up that psychiatric service you mentioned in Sacramento. I want to do something at Central where we all can try getting over this together."
"All right, Sarge, I'll do that. I'm glad you finally agree this won't just go away. We can't just gloss over this one, we're all going to have to work hard and work together."
"Guys," asked Getraer quietly, "you don't hate me do you?"
Both men sighed heavily, neither wanting to speak first. Finally, Frank looked up and said, "Well, I thought I did, but really, no I don't. I was and am really angry that you shot Jon. But, I've realized you're a cop and you're human. It could have been anyone. Now I realize we need to work to heal the wounds deeper than the one on Jon's back."
Frank looked at Jon. Jon said, "Ya know, Joe, at first I was completely furious at you. Every morning I used to wake up stone cold angry, but this morning I didn't. I think Ponch's right, it's something any of us could have done, and now we have to find out how to move past this."
Jon reached over and took Joe's hand. He looked straight into Getraer's eyes and said, "I forgive you, Joe. Let's heal this wound."
Getraer smiled a very large smile, ignoring the pain it caused. He looked into Jon's eyes and whispered, "Thank you. Thank you both." Then he took his hand from Jon's and wiped his eyes.
Jon looked over at his partner and said, "Uh, come on partner, we better let Sarge get some rest. It's going to be some busy times in the next few days."
Ponch followed his partner out the door, but turned to Getraer before shutting the door, "Uh, Sarge?"
"Yeah," responded Getraer.
"This isn't going to go in my file, is it?"
"Frank, there simply isn't room in my cabinet for another report in your folder," replied Getraer, trying not to smile.
Jon reached back and grabbed Ponch and both left the hospital smiling.
"The Thunder Rolls" ©1999 Ed Van Cise. "CHiPs" and its characters © Metro Goldwyn Mayer, Inc. All rights reserved.