Case 08 - The aftermath

<Events before The Rookie S1E11, SWAT S1E7, Modern Family S9E13>

Chloe, with Ben on the passenger seat of her beaten down Toyota, turned to him at a red light, "So this was your first day back on the job?"

"Back from sick leave and all that recertification jazz after a shot to the heart, yeah," Ben answered, still a little groggy from the anesthesia. "Thanks again for driving me home. Really didn't have to do that."

"Nah, they would have roped me into buying rounds at some dinky bar because I'm done with my internship now. Driving home one of the guys in blue is the perfect cover," Chloe replied with a shrug. "You sure you didn't want to stay at the hospital, though? This isn't a movie where you'll be fully recovered tomorrow as the need arises. I give you two weeks minimum before you can put pressure on that leg of yours without hissing in pain."

Ben gently ran his fingers over the thick bandage, "Between my dad and my last shooting incident, I spent enough time in a hospital in my life. Well... this year."

"What's wrong with your dad?"

"You mean what was wrong," Ben answered with a sigh. "The MS that made him end his life didn't bring me to the hospital much. He was a doctor, surgeon, actually. That's why I spent too much time in hospitals already. I bet you read at least one book co-written by him in your time in med school. Dr Frederic Weiss, cardiothoracic surgeon."

<not a real doctor>

"No shot, I do remember that name! Didn't he invent that, uh, Weiss Maneuver for aneurysm repair?"

"Eyes on the road!" Ben scolded when Chloe almost swerved into the opposite lane. "Sure did, though. He was really proud of all those techniques named after him... all three of them. On an unrelated note, I mean, I get part of it by you stitching me up in an OR, but what's your specialty?"

"I wanted to get into neurosurgery but didn't find a proper mentor. So trauma surgeon it is," Chloe answered with a shrug.

"Always high-stakes. Never a quiet day in LA, too. You're setting up for an eventful work life," Ben mumbled.

"Yeah. At least I'll never be out of a job," Chloe argued and checked her surroundings as they got closer to Ben's home. "These are some nice houses, you live here?"

"Yeah, 3511 at the end of the road, almost there."

As Chloe slowed down, her expression became awkward. "You sure you live here?"

Ben just stared at his home and released a defeated sigh.

"Third time since I moved in... maybe I should change address," Ben pondered out loud.

"You don't strike me as a... well, what even is this?"

Ben's house and driveway was sprayed all over with swastikas and the messages 'RACE TRAITOR' and 'TOD DEN VERRÄTERN [DEATH TO THE BETRAYERS]', though the last message was missing a few letters at the end. There were two patrol cars parked outside his home.

"Cowards trying to prove themselves heroes in their own fantasy world," Ben spat in resignation.

Still dressed in his cut-up uniform, the officers outside his home quickly recognized him as a fellow officer. The two officers at the scene identified themselves as Officer Stanton and Chambers, both white men who looked a little uncomfortable with the situation while trying to mask their discomfort with professional indifference.

"Hello, officers! You got any leads, or will I report this again with a few angles from my security system?"

"You're the inhabitant?" Officer Stanton asked.

Ben nodded, "That's right. Officer Benjamin Weiss."

He looked to his house with an annoyed expression, "This is the third time this happened. Washing it off with a GSW is gonna be a bitch and a half. Could you please call this in and advise Captain Cortez from Metro SWAT that she hurries up FID? My service pistol is with them and I'd rather have it back a little sooner."

The two officers didn't look like they would do any extra work for him, so Ben just shook his head and spoke up a little annoyed, "Nevermind that. Anything I need to know? Witnesses or something? Is that why two of you are here? Ah, forget it. I'll call it in myself."

Both officers shook their heads again but tried some friendly small talk with Ben. Chloe watched it all from her car, looking from Ben's leg and back to his house. Eventually, she got out of the car and walked over to Ben. She waited for a moment until Stanton finished another pleasantry.

"Your leg, you can't go up on a ladder. I'll help wash it off," she offered.

Ben nodded, "If you're offering, I won't refuse. We'll go inside and get you something to drink first. Plus I'd like to change."

Ben turned around again and asked, "Anything else, officers?"

Stanton and Chambers excused themselves after saying 'no', and drove away under Ben's inquiring gaze.

"Fucking closet racists. Especially that Stanton guy," Ben exclaimed with a tired sigh once the two squad cars were out of sight.

"How'd you get that? You got superpowers? Police Vision?" Chloe asked with an intrigued, wry smile.

"Regular vision. Asshole radar ain't a superpower, is it? I'm sure you have something similar. A douche radar? Maybe you can tell if a mole is the wrong kind of color at just a glance?"

"I can tell if a mole is bad at just a glance!" Chloe shouted with excited eyes. "What's my superhero name? Moleman? Molewoman? Nah, that's lame. St Mole? Dr Mole? Oh no, that's so much worse."

Ben went into his house on his crutches with Chloe following hot on his heels as they brainstormed superhero names. Thankfully he had his house key on his tactical belt and not in his locker.

"In any case. Stanton looked like a christmas tree in my asshole vision. I hate that people like him are on the force," Ben answered while ignoring Chloe's rambling about her superhero name.

"That's a cool superpower for a popo to have," Chloe mumbled. "But didn't you call it asshole radar? Not vision?"

"I should know better. Keeping my story straight is the easiest way to hide my superpowers," Ben answered with a dramatic demeanor.

Ben walked Chloe to the kitchen for a drink while he moved to his bedroom to change.

Once inside, he peeled out of his clothes and simply tossed them aside. His ripped up pants would land in the garbage bin anyway. Then, the wounded officer washed up in his bathroom a little before throwing on something shortsleeved and comfortable with a lot of difficulty. After that, he called Captain Cortez.

They got the greetings out of the way and Ben told Cortez about his surgery.

"Captain, what's the status at Brenson?"

"*No LAPD or civilian casualties. From the 10 gunmen you shot, four died on scene. Two are still in critical condition. That brings it to a total casualties of seven for this mission. Officer Lucy Chen of Mid-Wilshire even delivered a baby, so we're up a count in my book.*"

"Vance?"

"*In custody.*"

"Alright. I'm at my home. The surgeon who stuffed my leg brought me to my house after her shift. But I ran into a problem. My home was tagged, again. Same message. Sadly, you are in possession of my service weapon. Any chance Force Investigation and Internal Affairs can call their pissing contest to an end a little early and come to a decision for me? I don't own another weapon besides the Kimber and you know about Zofia... I don't feel safe with these taggers out there and Zofia coming back home."

"*I'll drop by when I'm done here,*" Cortez offered. "*Is Zofia okay?*"

"Yeah, I made a call before I went under the knife. She's with Chris' aunt - just in case I couldn't leave early. Chris was supposed to spend some time with her if needed," Ben answered.

"*That's good. I'll talk to Chris.*"

"Sounds great. Talk to you later, captain. And thank you!"

"*Stay safe, Ben.*"

Ben spent a minute on the bed, wallowing in the pain of his gunshot wounds and the pain he felt knowing he once more ended lives. He hated it. But compartmentalising and suppressing bad feelings was a necessary part of Ben's almost-healing process. His fists only stopped shaking when he had to hiss in pain for straining the freshly stitched wound on his arm.

Ten minutes later, Ben and Chloe were outside his home. Ben was holding a hose in the hand that didn't hold a crutch, and Chloe was scrubbing paint with an electric rotary brush and a spray bottle of rubbing alcohol.

"This works really well. Guess it comes with the experience."

Ben laughed, "Getting rid of paint is kind of my thing. Did it to myself not too long ago."

"I've seen your tattoos. Were you covered head to toe in ink before?"

Ben looked to her with a lifted eyebrow, "How'd you see my tattoos? I thought you fixed my leg?"

Chloe shrugged and explained with a wink at the end, "One of the nurses thought you're pretty hot and unbuttoned your shirt when we were done. To clean up the graze on your arm and check for other wounds we might have missed, hehe."

"Working out was the only real thing I could do for myself while undercover," Ben fake-boasted while flexing his unwounded arm while he leaned on his crutch with the other. The reality was that he was merely lean, not muscular. Compared to his friends in SWAT, Ben couldn't hold a candle with their six-packs and defined muscles.

At the same time, the hose was still on and held by his flexing arm, so the movement resulted in getting some water on Chloe, who quickly retaliated with a 'fuck you, Benji' as she dodged the spray.

As she ran away from Ben while laughing, her attention was brought to a charger and SUV parking in front of the house, boxing in her own Toyota.

"Officer Weiss," a plain-cloth detective greeted as he stepped out of the charger and walked over to Ben.

"Weiss!" A younger black man among two older black men shouted as he got out of the SUV. Officer West and his father, Commander West, apparently got the heads-up for his current location.

"Officer Benjamin Weiss. Since you're up, I take it you got no problem conducting the interview?"

Ben closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded toward Jackson's father.

"Is it okay that you are part of the process? I'm not questioning you, your integrity, or your credibility, sir, but I did lead your son through this mission."

<Cast: [special guest star] Forest Whitaker as Sgt Penner>

"I'm here as a witness. Sergeant Forest Penner from FID will be leading the interview," the older West expressed with a respectful nod toward the man that got out of the charger. "Don't worry, you're in good hands. And this was an active shooter situation where you were outgunned and outnumbered with no civilian casualties. This should be a very straightforward case."

Ben accepted the good intentions, but inwardly still cringed at the fact that killing was talked about so casually since the attackers 'revoked their civilian identity'.

"Ben. Is it okay if I call you Ben?" Sgt Penner asked as he held out his hand.

"Yeah, sure. If that's what you feel is right for this interview? Always liked being on a first name basis with people more," Ben agreed easily as he returned the handshake.

"That's cool. Call me Sergeant Penner," Penner returned without inflection. "You have a... lovely home. Is this your girlfriend?"

Clearly, the man was trying to get a reaction out of Ben with his questioning and the way he contradicted everything the recent gunshot victim said.

"Yeah, third time some racist nutcases did this since I moved in," Ben answered without letting Penner's attitude get to him. "And no, this is Chloe Fan, the surgeon who fixed my leg. It was her last surgery as an intern, and she offered to take me home."

"I see. Thank you for helping a fellow police officer, doctor," Penner offered without looking at Chloe.

Ben furrowed his brows but kept quiet.

"So Ben. How many shots did you fire today?"

"18, sir. 4 for the first group of three gunmen. 4 for the second group of two gunmen. Down in the basement, there were another 4 shots for the group of four. 2 shots changing cover. 4 shots to take out the group," Ben recounted.

"Mhm, sounds about right," Sgt Penner mumbled but didn't even bother to write anything down. He walked all around the front lawn, searching for whatever was on his mind.

"Tell me, which shots were the killing shots?"

Ben was a little taken aback, but he still tried answering it to the best of his abilities. He was briefly distracted by the fact that he had a small audience with Chloe and Jackson West, but since Penner and Commander West didn't send them away, them staying was apparently fine.

"Shots 2&4 for the first group. Since so much time passed between those shots and SWAT breaching, I think they likely bled out. The second group must have survived, I only hit shoulders, and while cuffing them, I didn't see enough blood to indicate I hit an artery. That leaves shots 11 and either 15 or 16. I was getting anxious for that last four-shot burst since I was just hit in the leg while switching cover and wanted to get the jammer down before I go down," Ben deliberated aloud.

"Quite right. 2, 4, 11, and 15 according to the body cam," Penner confirmed while staring at a hidden camera. "Great invention, no? Body cams, I mean."

"Yeah, I'm a fan of accountability," Ben answered while looking at Chloe when he said 'fan', deliberately pronouncing it like Chloe's Chinese family name and winking. The wounded officer wanted to joke a little to ease his own apprehension. Chloe just rolled her eyes - that was by far not the first time someone made a joke like that with her last name.

"Accountability. Grand word. How do you feel about ending four lives?"

Ben took a deep breath and replied, "I loathe the fact. I prefer police work with my gun holstered. My pistol aim is at its level because I don't like taking lives."

"Not because you are a wizard?"

"I... I'm not sure how you want me to answer that, Sergeant Penner," Ben said with furrowed brows.

Penner finally walked back to Ben and patted him on the shoulder, "Be sure to hand me the full video coverage from the moment the taggers arrived until the moment we arrived here."

"Sir?"

"I count three cameras in the front. How did I do?"

"There's... a few more. But why do you want that video?"

Penner pursed his lips and looked back to the house.

"I don't see more. Good job hiding them," Sgt Penner praised after looking for almost a minute. "I seen the first two videos from the earlier vandalism cases on my way over. I'll open a file on it because right now they are treated as individual cases of vandalism for whatever reason. I'll hand it over to GND. Might have something to do with the White Front, so I don't know if it is part of the FBI's case against them yet or not. My file should alert them to it if it hadn't happened yet."

"Huh, yeah. Didn't expect that. You got a card? I'll send you a link," Ben offered.

"I'm old school," the detective mumbled as he handed over a pristine, newly printed business card. "Humor me for a moment. Black folks are suspicious of you at best. White pride clowns hate you. You're a cop and everyone's hatin' us these days. You ain't tired of it?"

"Everything's better than being with White Front. I still got latinos and asians on my side, no? And, well, I'll just surround myself with people who care. And, eventually, my good intentions will bleed through."

Penner took out his phone to browse something on it and asked, "Food drives at Crenshaw High, and you're in that community center on 54th every Sunday and sometimes one other weekday for Project Future since moving here. Teaching at risk youths marketable skills so they can earn money the right way instead of playing the game."

"Yeah, and we encourage them to combat the housing crisis with these skills. Still working on actually getting those kids to help out, though..."

Penner finished scrolling through his notes and looked up, "How's you teaching them how to work a computer going to combat LA's homeless problem?"

Ben could only shrug, "Probably won't. But that's the skill I can offer to teach them. I tried giving Jiu Jitsu lessons there, too, but Commander Hicks at SWAT discouraged me in no uncertain terms."

"You still teach it, though," Penner accused while pointing at a line on his phone screen.

"True, but only to young girls and women. Self-defense for those who need it most... though there were quite a few younger men I would want to teach who come from abusive homes but couldn't..."

Penner pocketed his phone and looked to Commander West.

"I got everything I need. You got any questions?"

"I'm good. Thanks again for keeping my son alive. Exemplary work," the older West repeated with a sincere nod toward Ben.

Jackson West came over and hugged Ben fiercely. He only stopped when his TO for the day hissed in pain when he accidentally patted the stitched wound near Ben's shoulder.

As the three left, Ben limped back to Chloe, who looked at Ben with a complicated expression.

"You don't know how to feel about what you just heard?"

Chloe looked away and mumbled, "Lives ended, talked about so casually."

"Yeah..." Ben sighed.

Three minutes later, as they finished cleaning up the driveway in silence, Ben spoke up, "I'm guessing that was the straw that broke the camels back, and I'm not getting lucky tonight?"

Chloe started laughing, "What makes you think I'd ever hop into bed with you today?"

"Dunno, a man can hope? I mean, you admitted to undressing me on the operating table?"

"That was the nurse, I just didn't discourage her," Chloe defended in righteous indignation.

Ben smirked. Until he didn't because of Chloe's following words.

"Also, you're in no shape to have someone bouncing on you for some naughty fun. You're much better off putting that leg up on the couch for a week or two," Chloe suggested with an innocent smile.

Then, she looked him up and down, "You check enough boxes. We can talk if we meet again."

-----

A little over an hour later, Ben was alone at home. It was close to midnight and he felt like falling asleep right on the couch, but he wanted to wait on Zofia. The young woman was anxious and had called him twice already, despite repeatedly apologizing that she stopped him from resting. At least he managed to have two short naps so far.

Chris' shift should have ended a little earlier and she promised Ben that she would bring Zofia over. When she did, the two women were not alone - far from it.

Captain Cortez arrived as promised, and another three cars pulled up as Tan and Hondo arrived together with Chris and Zofia.

"You look terrible," Chris spoke in greeting as she ran her fingers through Ben's hair sitting next to him on the couch table.

"We should teach him how to not get shot, honestly," Tan quipped as he placed bags of food on the table. "Maybe pack him in a bulletproof bombsuit when he's out in the field."

Zofia merely sat at Ben's side next to Chris and held his arm while simultaneously crying and smiling. She didn't have to say anything, her distress and relief were clearly etched in her face.

"Sergeant Penner informed me that your case is already closed. You are cleared for duty and your weapon won't even have to enter evidence. Your story matched all the findings," Captain Cortez revealed next. "That said, I couldn't get it out for you tonight. I'll have a patrol officer bring you your weapon first thing in the morning."

"That's okay, I'll stay and keep these two safe for the night," Chris offered from the kitchen where she got plates for everyone.

"Hey man. Nice work today," Hondo praised as he sat down opposite of Ben. "You saved a lot of lives today."

"Tell me another day, I don't feel like it," Ben joked with his eyes still closed.

"Alright let's change the subject. You live like four streets away from my high school. I didn't know that," Hondo responded to change the subject. "I heard about that thing you called in but didn't get the school's name. Thanks for looking out for Crenshaw."

"Oh? Yeah, no problem. Obviously I'm gonna keep a look out for my neighborhood."

"That's mighty righteous my man," Hondo praised. "Now come, Chris' family cooked us enough food for a small army."

"I helped," Zofia boasted with a sweet smile.