How had it come to this? Jon pondered that very question, head bowed. His shoulders slumped. Sure, he and his best friend had gone through some rough times, but they had always stuck together. Even in those times when they were not positive what to think or whether the other might be wrong, they had stayed by each other's side . . . That or fought and apologized. Despite the occasional argument, Jon had known deep down that he would not have been able to live without his best friend, Frank Poncherello. Up until last week, he had been sure it was mutual. However, looking at the prone figure lying in the bed before him, it seemed Jon might have taken it for granted. Had he done something too terrible that even his best friend, his buddy, could not forgive? Had he gone too far this time? Jon smiled ruefully and then spoke. His voice was thick with emotion and hesitant, as though afraid that the room's other occupant would take offense. ". . . Well, Ponch . . . I-I know you can't hear me, but I wanted to try to tell you . . . I'm sorry." His voice broke then. "At least I can still remember the good times we had together . . . before I messed it up." He allowed his mind to recall certain times in the past in which he and Ponch had been the best of friends. They had joked with each other, laughed and smiled together. They had been practically inseparable . . . until that fateful day.

~-._.-*-._.-~

When Sergeant Getraer stepped up to brief his officers for the day, a few clapped or cheered. He knew it was all in good humor and chuckled to himself. He calmed down the masses by holding up his hands. "All right. All right. So, you've no doubt noticed . . ." He began to tell about the gang who had been using cute animals to help them steal. The creatures would pretend to be stuck in a bush or injured somewhere. Many a car owner had pulled over to help. The thieves would then pilfer whatever might be of value to them while the owners were otherwise occupied. He noticed Jon and Ponch giving each other looks during his speech and forced himself not to roll his eyes. They were like brothers, so close they could have a whole conversation without speaking a word. At the moment, Ponch was waggling his eyebrows at Jon. The latter seemed to be holding back laughter. Their barely concealed smiles were obvious to anyone who knew them. Getraer shook his head to get back to the matter at hand. He had apparently not stopped talking, for all the other officers were still looking attentively at him. Getraer finished his statement and was about to follow it up with one about listening well when another man raised his hand. "Yes, Grossman?"

Arthur Grossman cocked his head. "What kind of animals have they used? I mean, I could see their use of dogs and cats. Are there any others?"

Getraer grinned. He was proud that one of his officers would ask a sensible question like that. "They have been known to use cats, dogs, sheep, jackrabbits, roadrunners, deer, donkeys, whatever they can. They even used a parrot once. These people must be good at training animals. Be on the lookout."

Grossman muttered to himself, "It was most likely a Scarlet Macaw. It's more well-known than a mynah bird or a parakeet."

The sergeant cleared his throat. "Well, that's all. You are dismissed." He watched as Jon and Ponch stood slowly, already talking. When they passed him, he could hear snippets of their conversation.

"I'm telling you, Jon, it'd be perfect!" Ponch sounded excited.

Jon shook his head. "But are you sure? What happens if . . ."

"It won't happen." Ponch waved his hand as though to brush away any worries. He flashed his partner a winning grin.

Jon laughed. "Okay!" He smiled, too.

~-._.-*-._.-~

When Jon and Ponch pulled in at the end of their shift, Harlan was tinkering in the garage. He straightened upon hearing wisps of their conversation. Usually, he would not eavesdrop, but his attention was caught by the tone in which they spoke. He strained his ear to listen to what they said.

"Look, Ponch. I don't see why you would do that! You usually play fair with me," Jon huffed.

Ponch rolled his eyes. "Good grief, Baker! It wasn't on purpose! I forgot about that. I was just hungry." He sounded weary, like he had stressed this point more than once before.

"I don't believe you." He spared a glance at his friend.

This time, Ponch was the one to sigh. "Look, you don't even have to go through with your side of the bet."

"No, I'm going to. Even though I was cheated into losing, I'll fulfill my end of the deal. I said I would. I'll be at your house tonight at 7." With that, the blond left.

Harlan cocked his head. Sure, Jon and Ponch had the occasional disagreement, but they never went so far as to snap at each other so violently. Harlan debated whether or not he should ask Ponch what was going on. After weighing the options, he decided to do it. "Hey, Ponch! What's up?"

Ponch looked down to him. "Um . . . I kind of made Jon mad by accident. See, we made a bet that whoever finished the spaghetti last would make the other supper for a week. Jon and I were almost tied when Grossie came in. He sat by us and talked. We didn't want him to think we were ignoring him, so Jon talked with him. I was going to wait for him to finish, but the food looked so good. I forgot about our bet and ate it. By the time Grossie left, I was finished with my spaghetti. Jon went into a rant about how I 'cheated' and how I should've waited for him. I told him I forgot, but he wouldn't listen."

"That doesn't sound like him."

Ponch harrumphed. He shook his head. "Well, he's going to have to apologize to me."

~-._.-*-._.-~

In the break room, Jon nursed his glass of Coca Cola and stewed over the day's events. "I can't believe him! Why would he do that?" Deep down, he knew Ponch had not broken their deal on purpose. Still, he could not (or, rather, would not) bring himself to admit it. It was not even that important. He was jolted out of his thoughts upon hearing his name.

"Jon?" That voice belonged to Barry Baricza.

Jon turned his head. "Hey, Bear."

The frown "Bear" was sporting showed his worry. "Are you okay? You've been there for about an hour now."

Jon hesitated and then told his friend the story.

"Ponch wouldn't have done that to annoy you." Bear sounded completely certain.

Jon heaved a sigh. "I know," he reluctantly conceded. "It just . . . bugged me."

It was then that Ponch entered. When he saw Jon, he gave a half-hearted smile and waved.

Jon responded with a grunt.

Ponch shrugged and went to get a coke. He then sat down with it and popped the lid, accidentally spraying the person right across from him with his soda. ". . . Oops?"

That person just so happened to be Jon. His hair dripped carbonation and his shirt had a large splotch of Dr. Pepper right in the middle of it. Jon was not amused. "Really, Ponch? Really?!" He stood. "I need to go. I've got to plan out what I'll be cooking tonight. Rats' ears on crackers sounds good enough, don't you think?" He stalked off, ignoring Ponch's cries of how it had been an accident.

~-._.-*-._.-~

That went on for days. Each day, Ponch or Jon would do something to irk the other, whether accidentally or on purpose. Both were too stubborn to give in and ask forgiveness. However, the two privately thought that they needed to. Five days after "The Incident," as the other officers called it, Getraer decided that he would not put up with it any longer. When the debriefing was over, he waited for everyone else to leave. It was then that he called the two over. "Now listen. You two have been at each other's throats since Monday. What's going on? Why are you acting like this?" The looks they gave him were so similar, the sergeant had to hold in his laughter. Jon's face had the same guilt, frustration, and shame that Ponch's did.

"You see, he—" both announced simultaneously. They glared at each other before emphatically saying, "It's not my fault!"

Getraer chuckled lowly. "I'm sure. Is this all a big misunderstanding or what?"

This time, when they spoke at the same time, their words were not the same.

"He cheated!"

"No, he got worked up over nothing!"

Getraer tuned it out until he heard something that gave him pause. "What did you say?" he asked, pointing at Poncherello.

"I said, 'He stole my girlfriend!'" He seemed perfectly serious.

Jon turned to face Ponch and stated, "It wasn't on purpose! I didn't know until after our date!"

Ponch stuck his tongue out at his partner. "Well, you knew afterwards and didn't tell me! I had to find out by seeing you two leave the ice cream shop!"

"I had just found out! I didn't know you were there!"

Getraer put his hands in between the two to stop them before they came to blows. "All right! All right! It was an accident on both sides. Leave it alone."

The moment their sergeant glanced at something else, two scowled at each other.

"You know what? I've had it! I am so over this!" Ponch declared. He nodded once at Getraer to say his goodbye. Without acknowledging Jon, he exited the room.

Jon scoffed and left, too, but in the opposite direction.

Getraer looked up and sighed. "Well, that could have gone better. Lord, I hope You help them because they can't go on like this."

~-._.-*-._.-~

As Ponch drove to his house, he gripped the steering wheel in a death grip. He growled, "Dumb Jon. If he'd just apologize, I'd forgive him and everything would be okay. Why's he got to be like that?"

Two Bible verses popped into his head. They were 1 John 4:20-21, which said, "If a man say, I love God, and hateth his brother, he is a liar: for he that loveth not his brother whom he hath seen, how can he love God whom he hath not seen? And this commandment have we from him, That he who loveth God love his brother also."

Ponch sighed. "Okay, God. I see what You're trying to tell me. I'm sorry. . . Come to think of it, You forgave those who put you on the cross without them asking forgiveness, didn't You?" His face broke into a sad smile. "Man, I was a jerk." He decided to return to Headquarters and find Jon. Just as he was turning on his turn signal, he felt a heavy jolt. His body was pushed forward. There was a sharp pain in his head. His vision faded into black.

~-._.-*-._.-~

The moment Jon placed the keys to his truck on the counter in his kitchen, his telephone rang. He walked over to it and picked it up. It's probably nothing important. Still . . . "Hello?" he called into the receiver.

The voice that answered him belonged to a female. Her tone was almost soothing. Despite that, it could not calm the growing panic gnawing at Jon's insides. "Is this CHP Officer Jon Baker?"

He tried to sound non-chalant. "This is he. And who, may I ask, are you?"

"I am Nurse Wendy Manchester from St. Thaddeus Hospital. I'm calling on behalf of Officer Poncherello."

Jon, whose heart had lept into his throat even when he had heard the word "nurse," gaped. "Wh-what happened?!" he demanded.

"Oh? Didn't they tell you? He was in a car crash no less than an hour ago."

Later on, Jon would not recall setting down his telephone into its cradle or hearing the lady continue to prattle on until the connection was severed. He would not remember getting into his car or making his way to the hospital. He merely remembered the prayer that became like a mantra. "Lord Jesus, please let him live! Lord Jesus, please let him live!"

After Ponch had left the building, Jon had gotten into his blue truck and driven around, trying to get his mind off of the argument with his partner. At one point, he had pulled over for some deep breaths. It was then that Matthew 5:44 popped into his mind. Softly, Jon had quoted, "'But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;'" He had repented and asked his Heaven,y a Father for forgiveness. Finally, he had set off for his house. If only he had known sooner! Maybe he could have prevented the car crash!

When he reached the hospital, he could not turn off and exit the truck fast enough to please him. He ran to the hospital and tore through the halls, looking for his best friend. He barely registered the nurse who directed him. His sight was set on Romo Numbers 273. He threw open the door exactly one tenth of a second after he reached the room and made for the bed. Only when he saw the rise and fall of Poncherello's chest did he allow himself to relax.

The nurse, a pretty little thing with abundant, black curls, said, "Mr. Baker, this man has sustained multiple contusions and lacerations, mostly likely because of the car's widow smashing upon impact. His forehead has a large knot on it, which should clear up soon. Aside from that, it seems like he has suffered little else. One of his ribs might be bruised. We're monitoring that. It must've been a miracle!"

John sighed with relief, smiling. Praise the Lord!

~-._.-*-._.-~

The morning light through the hospital's window woke up Ponch. He was hit by a wave of pain. "Wha—?" He made to sit up but then became aware of a weight on his stomach. He pried open his eyes to see the head of messy blond hair belonging to one Jon Baker on him. Jon was fast asleep, his head pillowed on his arms. A smile overtook Ponch's face. "Hey," Ponch croaked.

The man stirred. Finally, he looked up. "Ponch?" After a few seconds, his dark-blue eyes widened with joy. "Ponch!" His smile was ginormous.

The dark-haired man flinched. "Nor quite so loud, buddy."

"Oh. Sorry."

Ponch grinned. "No problem."

Simultaneously, they said, "Sorry!"

They each apologized to the other. Then they clapped each other on the back and smiled happily. They might have the occasional spat, but they were like brothers.