A CLEAN GETAWAY
Written by Ann Rivers ann.rivers@virgin.net
Summary: Revenge comes in many forms… and at the oddest times…
Spoilers : One Two Many
Disclaimer : CHiPs and its characters don't belong to me – more's the pity – but to Metro Goldwyn Mayer
I'm not making any profit from their use here, or trying to infringe on any copyright.
I'm just helping Jon to teach his partner a thing or two about good housekeeping…
He'd faced some dangers and threats to his existence in his oddly eventful twenty nine years of life.
Everything from teenage older sisters (annoying and scary) to stampeding steers (exciting and scary).
And, of course, horrors from a war that, even now, he could neither understand nor forget.
But heaven only knew what horrifying threats awaited him on the other side of his apartment's door.
He might be about to find new, utterly disgusting life forms growing in his refrigerator.
In the process of cleaning those life forms out, he could be attacked by hordes of mutated Ding Dongs.
One of his partner's harem of dates could suddenly surface from under piles of discarded clothing, or…
"Oh, for cryin' out loud, Baker, get a grip…" Jon muttered, rolling his eyes in self chastisement.
"He's only been here for two days…! Surely it won't be that bad…"
The hopeful words died in his throat as Jon shoved the door open against the obstruction behind it.
Almost tripping over a half-tied bag of garbage, Jon carefully righted himself – and simply stared.
"I stand corrected…" he murmured, straining to find some trace of order amid the chaos within.
But no. His once spotlessly neat apartment now looked as though it had been hit by a tornado.
Books, towels and magazines lay strewn across the carpet, along with piles of empty take out cartons.
Jon's wince then nervously deepened as he glanced past a clutter of pizza boxes towards his fridge.
Suddenly that attack by hordes of mutated Ding Dongs didn't seem quite so outlandish…
On the other side of LA's urban sprawl, Jon's actions and reactions were being uncannily mirrored.
Frank Poncherello stood in its doorway, taking in his revamped RV with wide, disbelieving eyes.
Everything was in its place. The dishes which he'd left to soak in the sink all cleaned and tidied away.
Books and magazines weren't just tidy in their shelves, but – jeez – they were in height order too.
For the first time in days, if not months, he could actually see the true colour of his RV's carpets.
Damn, he could even still smell the polish which had brought his furniture up to its gleaming best.
In the space of just a few days, two homes had undergone a complete reversal in taste and style.
And from opposite sides of town, their respective owners now shared the same plaintive response.
"Oh, man…!"
One then grinned his famous grin, shrugged his shoulders – and settled down to enjoy his ballgame.
The other, realizing that banging his head against the wall was getting him nothing but a nasty ache,
sighed deeply then, to his surprise, resigned himself to his Fate and started to laugh.
"Tomorrow, Ponch…" Jon muttered at last, still chuckling as he rolled up his sleeves and set to work,
"…you and I are gonna have a little chat…"
Come the next morning, Frank Poncherello couldn't decide which prospect worried him more –
the dreaded cruiser duty in still heavy rain, or facing a still subdued, oddly irritable partner.
Of course, given the harrowing events of the last few days, that irritability wasn't so surprising.
Having some nut impersonate you was bad enough, but for him to nearly wreck your career…
Not to mention your health, Ponch mused, remembering how tired Jon had looked the previous day –
mounting frustration and a succession of sleepless nights only adding to his partner's unusual edginess.
Still, at least the allegation which had weighed so heavily around Jon's shoulders had been lifted.
And with any luck, Getraer would now have sorted out the mess of paperwork and explanations,
which would finally enable his partner to get back to the job that he seemed predestined to do.
But now a new concern settled in Ponch's mind as he cast a parting glance around the RV.
Although a few shirts now lay draped around various chairs, the camper was still impeccably neat.
Which, Ponch now ruefully recalled, couldn't be said for how he'd left Jon's apartment…
Still wincing at the memory, Ponch locked up the RV and sprinted through the rain to his bike –
guilt at exploiting Jon's good nature now adding to lingering concern at what he'd just been through.
Heavy clouds, and the distant rumbles of an approaching storm didn't exactly bode too well either…
Misgivings that it was going to be one of those days only increased when Ponch arrived at the station.
As usual, he was late. As usual, Jon was already there, greeting him with his familiar, easy smile.
And while Ponch felt genuinely relieved at the friendliness which, he knew, he didn't really deserve,
a small voice in the back of his mind was frantically screaming at him to turn around and go home.
The country boy's smile was, if anything, a little bit too easy…
Pushing those concerns aside, Ponch grinned while nodding towards a typically immaculate uniform.
"Hey, Baker, lookin' good…!" he enthused, pausing for a moment before, oddly awkward, he asked,
"So, um… I – I mean, you doin' okay…? Managed to… um… well, catch up on some shut-eye…?"
"Oh sure, Ponch… I'm fine…" Jon nodded while giving his cherished badge one final, loving polish.
Pausing for effect, he thought for a moment before favouring his partner with a bright grin which,
in Ponch's suddenly wary eyes, bore a striking resemblance to a predatory wolf closing in on its prey.
When Jon spoke again, his voice was still pleasant – but it also dripped with good natured sarcasm.
"Yeah, once I'd cleared two days worth of your junk out of my place… I slept like a log…"
The mega wattage smile faded considerably as Ponch braced himself for the approaching explosion –
only to be left blinking in surprise as Jon laughed and gave him a heartily friendly pat on his back.
"Thanks, partner…! That's just what I needed…"
"It was…?" Ponch echoed, totally thrown as he tried to decide whether Jon was being serious or not.
It was a Baker specialty, a dryly deadpan talent which never failed to drive his partner quietly nuts.
So when Jon grinned and nodded, Ponch didn't know whether to be deeply grateful or deeply worried.
"Yeah, I guess with all that's happened lately, I've been… well, kinda keyed up…" Jon said at last,
frowning for a moment before he smiled once more and, blushing slightly, shrugged his shoulders.
"And in clearing all your junk out of my place… well, I guess a lot of my anger got cleared out too…
so thanks for that, buddy… you really did me one heck of a favour…"
"I did…?" Ponch's grin magically reappeared, widening further still as a sudden thought struck him.
"So that's why you cleaned out my place too, huh…? So you could channel out those bad vibes…?"
"Well, no…" Jon admitted, adding a dry afterthought over his shoulder as he moved past his partner.
"No, Ponch… that was more a mission of mercy…"
Following in his wake, Ponch was getting the distinct, unsettling feeling that Jon was toying with him.
And, if anything, that was worse than facing his partner's rarely seen but still intimidating temper.
Jon Baker may have been one of the quieter, more serious officers in CHP's Central Division –
but, as Ponch had soon discovered, he still had a devilish streak in him the size of his home state.
Right now, mischief was most definitely brewing behind the placid blue eyes of Jonathan Baker.
And Ponch already had a ruefully worried idea on where that mischief was heading…
He was still looking rather uneasy as he followed Jon into the briefing room for that day's duties.
Naturally ebullient, Ponch was more used to planning practical jokes than to be on their receiving end.
Yes, the series of backslaps and handshakes which greeted Jon Baker seemed harmless enough –
a natural welcome back to normality for one of Central's most popular, highly regarded officers.
And yes, the broad and happy grin which Jon now cast towards him was probably innocent enough.
But, as Ponch knew from rueful experience, that familiar grin usually meant trouble wasn't far behind.
So it was with some trepidation that Ponch moved to their usual table at the rear of the briefing room –
thoroughly checking his chair for any prankish modifications before, still wary, he settled onto it.
Joining him a few moments later, Jon cast him another of that maddeningly unfathomable smiles.
Noting in quiet satisfaction that his partner was now as jumpy as a first year colt at branding time,
Jon then settled back in his seat while Getraer strode to his podium to brief them for that day's duties –
including, as he'd already spotted on the notice board, the perfect chance to teach his partner a lesson.
This, he thought in quietly gleeful anticipation, was going to be fun…
By the time their sergeant had added his own welcome back to Jon and outlined their various patrols,
Ponch had relaxed a little, lulled into a slouching indifference by the routine of familiar monotony.
Beside him, covertly watching him, Jon Baker continued to wear a contentedly scheming smile…
"Okay, last item…" Getraer went on, beaming cheerfully at a roomful of suddenly wary officers.
"And I just know that any second now I'm going to see a whole forest of volunteering arms…"
Unmoved by chorused groans of realization, Joe Getraer allowed his smile to mischievously widen.
It was at times like this when the many hassles of being a sergeant were almost worthwhile.
"Ah, boys, I can tell by your happy smiling faces that you've all seen what's on the notice board…
yes, it's district inspection time again… and with the current, fortuitously lousy weather out there,
I need one happily willing soul to trade his big shiny cruiser in for a big shiny mop and bucket…"
Idly doodling in his notebook, Ponch had little cause to question the slight pressure on his left elbow.
All that changed, however, as with one smoothly fluid lift of Jon Baker's guiding hand around it,
and to a chorus of cheering applause, the left arm of Frank Poncherello suddenly shot up into the air.
Taking his resultant yell of protest as the required offer of help, Getraer blinked in startled surprise.
Certain that he was imagining things, he cast a suspicious glance towards his nearby mug of coffee.
Tomorrow, he promised himself wryly, I start drinking decaff…
Brought back from his reverie by a continuing chorus of laughter, Joe then looked up again –
and smiled as the bright blue eyes of one Jonathan Baker winked mischievously back at him.
It was now becoming increasingly difficult for Joe Getraer to maintain his air of sergeantlike authority.
At the far end of the room, Central CHP's most unlikely double act were now in full comical flow.
Ponch was still vehemently protesting at being 'volunteered' by his innocently deadpan partner.
Said partner, totally unmoved, was allowing the torrent of peeved complaints to simply wash over him,
his expression one of straight-faced blandness that made Jon Baker the best poker player in the CHP.
When Jon raised his hand to idly study his nails, nonchalantly oblivious to Ponch's ongoing tirade,
it was all Joe could do not to join in with his officer's cheering applause.
The others, however, had no problem in showing appreciation for this unscheduled entertainment –
so much so that Joe had to raise his voice to make himself heard over their roars of laughter.
"Okay, kids, playtime's over… let's get out there and earn our salaries… oh, and Poncherello…?"
Still quietly chuckling, Getraer nodded approvingly towards his still feebly protesting volunteer.
"That's mighty good of you to… um… well, set such a willing and selfless example…"
At any other time, Frank Poncherello may have been happy to preen at such a rare vote of praise.
Instead, still muttering peeved threats of revenge, he threw a murderous glare towards his partner –
one which, if it had really been able to kill, would not only have seen Jon Baker six feet under,
but pushing up a whole prairie of daisies as well.
Death by glaring regardless, Jon couldn't resist making the most of his mischievous advantage –
offering his still sulking partner one last helpful suggestion as they filed out of the briefing room.
"Oh hey, Ponch…? Last time I looked, the… uh… janitor's closet was in that direction…"
Following the line of Jon's helpfully guiding arm, Ponch then glared pointedly back at him.
"I'll get you for this, Baker…" he growled, still muttering as he stomped peevishly along the corridor.
"You won't know when, and you won't know where… but-I-will-get-you-for-this…!"
"Ooooh, I'm just shakin' in my spurs…!" Jon yelled after him, now almost helpless with laughter.
Watching this exchange from the door of his office, Joe Getraer sighed and patiently shook his head.
He'd no idea of what terrible crime Ponch had committed for his partner to take such wicked revenge.
Then again, he fondly reflected, still smiling as he retreated into the relative sanity of his office,
where these two are concerned, I'm probably better off not knowing…
His revenge complete, Jon Baker whistled cheerfully as he headed outside to his waiting cruiser.
"Now that…" he chuckled, grinning wickedly from ear to ear, "…is what I call a clean getaway…!"