Armed Light

*******************************

That which is come requires of me
My utter truth and mystery.
Return you dreams, return to night
My lover is the armed Light.

Laurence Binyon

********************************

'Mrs. Mackenzie? Remember me?'

'David. Of course, dear. Come in, please. I've been trying to get you on the phone, with no luck.'

'Seems to be the day for that. Listen. I need your help. You know this canyon pretty well, right?'

'I do, David. That's why....'

'I won't let you get into any danger, but if you could drive with me, point out some of the geographical features, keep me from getting hopelessly lost?'

'I can do that. I've been trying to tell you....'

'Hutch did something stupid. Took off on his own. Into the canyon, I think. He's got his saviour complex down pat. It's a pain in the, uh, neck.'

'Oh, yes? Or a part of your anatomy a bit lower down?'

'Mrs. Mackenzie!'

'Don't be so puritanical around me. It's a waste of time. I may have gray hair, and wear Gucci, but that doesn't make me a prude. And speaking of wasting time... I've been asking around, in a quiet way as your friend suggested. I've drawn maps, based on my own knowledge of the canyon, and the tips I've collected. Just a moment.'

Mrs. Mackenzie hurried over to the coffee table and picked up a very official-looking portfolio, and a pen. 'Come on,' she said, pushing past Starsky and out the door. She stood for a moment, regarding Starsky's car in eloquent silence. 'We had better take my car,' she said. 'People are so used to seeing it, they don't notice it. And it's faster.'

'Almost any car is faster than this heap a junk,' said Starsky. 'My Torino is fast, but it sticks out like a sore thumb. Or a part of the anatomy a bit lower down.'

'Mr. Starsky!' said Mrs. Mackenzie. But she grinned.

****************************

'You're a surprise,' said Starsky, as they drove through the canyon in the dying light.

'Why?' asked Mrs. Mackenzie.

'How did you figure it out? You spent about an hour with us. People who've known us for years don't know.'

'Are you sure about that? Sorry, David. You're probably right, for the most part. I'm not saying it's obvious. Or maybe it is, but only to someone who's just met you. I thought, right off, 'Those men are in love with each other'.

Starsky couldn't help his wry grin. 'We've always been in love,' he said. 'In so deep, even we didn't realize it. Not for years. I mean, you need air to breathe, right? You walk around breathing, never thinking about how important the air is. How much you love it. Until suddenly, it's almost impossible to breathe. Then, you know.'

'Yes,' said Mrs. Mackenzie. 'I loved my husband that way. When he died, it was like all the air and all the light and all the warmth went out of the world. At least for me. I couldn't understand why the world went on turning. It even continued revolving around the sun. Stupid world.'

'I'm sorry,' said Starsky. 'But it came back, right? The light and air and warmth? They came back for you?'

'They came back. Enough to get by. I manage. Half alive, but I manage.'

'Oh, no. You're not half alive. You're all there. Your husband must have loved you so much. He wouldn't want you to be half alive. I know. When I thought I was dying, I wanted to stay with Hutch. But I also wanted him to go on living and be happy. That's when I knew.'

'It shows, David. It does show. In your eyes, in your voice. In the way you touch his hand.'

'I wish you could convince Hutch of that,' said Starsky.

Mrs. Mackenzie smiled. 'Sorry,' she said. 'But I do believe that's your job.'

*************************

'It's almost dark,' Hutch noted, in a whisper. 'Maybe this isn't such a good idea.'

'You want to turn back?' asked Spike.

'That would be the sensible thing to do,' Hutch answered. They looked each other in the eyes.

'You're right. It would be,' said Spike. They walked on. 'Here,' said Spike, handing Hutch a flashlight.

Hutch turned it on. It emitted a very narrow band of light. Just enough to illuminate the ground in front of his feet. 'Thanks,' said Hutch.

'Don't mention it. Starsky would have my balls for a dashboard decoration if you fell and broke something.'

'Allow me to make one thing clear. You are not my keeper. I can take care of myself.'

'Uh huh,' said Spike. 'I can tell.'

'Shh.' Hutch held up a warning hand. 'I hear voices.'

'I see a light ahead,' said Spike.

They crept forward, slowly, keeping their flashlights trained on the ground. The trees were thinning out, opening onto a clearing. Hutch stopped, just inside the ring of sheltering trees, and turned his flashlight off. He didn't need it, to see the scene in front of him. The clearing was lit by a barbaric display of torches. There was the famous trailer. A collection of cars, off to the side. Their owners sat around the clearing, on old wooden chairs. In the centre of the clearing, one man appeared to hold court. A woman sat on the ground in front of him.

'Maddy!' Hutch whispered. 'That's Maddy sitting on the ground.'

'What's going on?' Spike whispered back. 'Can you tell?'

'Nah. Can't hear what they're saying.'

'Ask them to turn up the volume.'

Hutch sighed.

'You got asthma, or something?' Spike asked.

'Now I know how you got your nickname,' said Hutch.

'How?' asked Spike, with tones of entirely spurious innocence.

'Because of your tongue. Listen. That big guy in the middle is talking. What's he saying?'

'Something about a verdict. Good God, Hutch. It's a trial. Of some kind. A trial. Do you think....?'

'The Hanging Tree,' said Hutch. His voice was soft, and deadly. He drew his Magnum, and checked the clip.

'What are you doing?' asked Spike. 'You taking them all on, alone?'

'If I have to,' said Hutch.

'Of course you don't have to,' said Spike. He drew his own gun.

They heard a soft click behind them. 'Gentlemen,' said a voice. 'I suggest you drop your weapons. Now.'

****************************

The Mercedes had slowed to a crawl. It was getting dark, and their ability to decipher the passing landmarks was minimal.

'Perhaps night isn't the best time of the day to be doing this,' Starsky suggested.

'No kidding,' said Mrs. Mackenzie. 'However, it is the time of day we find ourselves doing this in. So, in another sense, it is the best time of day.'

Starsky thought about this concept for a moment.

'Did anyone ever tell you you're weird?' he asked.

'Yes. My husband Bill, for one.'

Starsky turned and looked out of his side window. He thought about what Mrs. Mackenzie had told him. Yes. It was harder on the survivors. The person who died was at peace, free of all pain and suffering. He remembered his own feelings when he thought he was dying. Hell -- when he knew he had died, even if his death had been temporary. All the pain vanished and he flowed with the current, pulled by an irresistible force, through a dark tunnel. And then, a light. At the end of the tunnel. What was on that other side? Starsky still wondered, but he hadn't had the chance to find out. Someday, he would, and the realization no longer frightened him.

What had the experience been like for Hutch, however? Starsky was sure there had been no peace and acceptance, only pain and grief. Peace and acceptance might have come later. Surely Hutch would have found someone else to love. A good woman, or even a good man. He would have mourned Starsky the rest of his life, but he would have gone on with his own life. But, at the moment of Starsky's death, that must have been the last thought in Hutch's mind. In those moments, when he teetered on the edge of losing all light and warmth and air, had he seen only the dark tunnel? Darkness with no light at the end? Was that why he had trouble accepting their love completely? Or accepting the truth of it, the reality of it? Did it seem as if pain and death were the reality, and their love was only fantasy?

Mrs. Mackenzie's Mercedes rolled silently through the dark tunnel of canyon, now. Starsky had no choice but to go with the flow. Somewhere at the end of the tunnel, Hutch waited. Hutch is the Light, thought Starsky, and I must keep watch for him. He closed his eyes, and let Mrs. Mackenzie drive.

'Stop!' he heard himself say. 'Stop the car, here.'

Mrs. Mackenzie pulled over. She turned to Starsky. 'Do you see something?' she asked.

'I feel something,' he told her. He imagined Hutch snorting in derision. What he felt, was light and warmth and air. Hutch was nearby. 'You wait here,' he said, as he drew his gun.

'No way!' said Mrs. Mackenzie.

'Listen, you're a civilian....'

'So are you.'

'Yes, but I used to be a cop.'

'Used to be.'

'And you're not exactly young....'

'I know that. But I'll tell you something about getting old, David. Either you become timid, and housebound, or you lose most of your fears and become more adventurous. I've decided to follow the latter course, thank you very much.' She opened her glove compartment, and pulled out a gun. 'This,' she informed Starsky, 'Is a SIG-Sauer P225 . It's brand new, just out in Europe this year. And I know how to use it. Ready?'

Not as ready as you are, thought Starsky, studying the deadly-looking pistol in sweet Mrs. Mackenzie's hands. 'I want one of those,' was his next thought. 'Ready,' he said aloud.

****************************

'Well, well, well. What have we here?'

'Caught them snooping around the perimeter, Boss. The blond guy is a cop. Don't know who the nigger is.'

'It doesn't matter who they are, remember? Or what they are. What matters is what's in their hearts. Are their hearts pure?'

'I remember, now. Sorry, Boss. But how do we know if their hearts are pure?'

'That's why you're not one of us. When you're one of us, you'll know how to tell if someone's heart is pure. Bring them closer. They smell of blood. They're bleeding.'

'I know. They fought. I had to punish them.'

'But they're still alive?'

'Of course, Boss.'

'Only I have the right to sentence someone to death, Perkins.'

'I know. I remember.'

'Good. You may be one of us yet.'

'What an step up that would be, Perkins,' Hutch said. 'To go from useless excuse for a cop to henchman for a insane serial killer.'

The insane serial killer turned his gaze on Hutch. It was frightening, how normal that gaze was. The man didn't look insane, or like a serial killer. He looked like an ordinary man, who was preparing to squash a bug that got in his way. Hutch was that bug. Hutch gazed back, calmly, into the vortex of evil.

Something entered the blank, ordinary gaze. A sharpness, perhaps.

'Aren't you afraid of me, blondie?'

'Of course,' said Hutch. 'You have all the power. You can kill me if you wish.'

'I can,' said the killer. 'But I might not. It's not a matter of what I want to do, but what is in your heart. Is your heart pure?'

'I don't know. Is yours?'

There was a collective gasp, from all around.

'Of course my heart is pure. That is why I've been given the power to judge others,' said the killer.

'And who gave you that power?' asked Hutch.

'If you were pure, you would know,' said the killer.

'Maybe I'm not pure,' said Hutch. 'Or maybe I'm purer than you. Maybe I've been given the power to judge you.'

Now the eyes didn't look so ordinary.

'You? Judge me? What heresy is this?'

'I didn't say I would judge you. I only suggested that maybe I'd been given that power. How do you know? Maybe the power that was vested in you has passed to me. Or, maybe not? I wonder.'

The killer looked confused. It wasn't a good look on him.

'I think you're insane,' said the insane killer.

You might be right, thought Hutch.

'What's wrong with your friend?' the killer asked, suddenly.

Hutch glanced at Spike, warily. The man was hanging in the grasp of one of Perkin's cohorts. He looked as if he were about to fall over at any moment.   'Your goons beat him up,' said Hutch 'Maybe he's bleeding to death, internally. I don't know.'

'You don't know fuck all, do you?' asked the killer. 'I'm surrounded by idiots. Only I have the right to take life.'

He reached for Spike, as if to shake him. Spike reared up, and kicked out, in one swift moment. His foot collided with the killer's shin, and the man screamed. 'He struck me. He struck me. Kill him!'

Hutch twisted out of Perkin's grip, and threw himself on the killer. They rolled over and over on the ground. Hutch was in good shape, but the killer had the strength of the insane, who know no true fear, believing themselves to be immortal.   At least his followers seemed to be hanging back from the battle. Letting the Boss handle the Impure. Then he heard the gunfire. Great, he thought. Just what this party needs.

***************************

'They got Hutch down there. I don't think they're giving him a medal. Look, Mrs. Mackenzie. I know this is a lot to ask, but since you....'

'Since I volunteered for this mission, and I know how to use this thing, do you want me to create a diversion?'

'A diversion?'

'Yes. A diversion. Like this.' Mrs. Mackenzie fired her SIG-Sauer P225 into the air.

Yeah, thought Starsky.   A diversion. Like that. Starsky took off toward the left, firing as he went. He shouted, 'We have you surrounded. Drop your weapons and surrender.'

'Starsky?' asked a voice behind him. 'What the fuck are you doing here?'

It was Detective Perkins.

'What the fuck do you think you're doing here?' asked Starsky, in his turn.

'I asked you first, and I'm the law.'

'The law? Like hell you are. I'm here to help Hutch. You were going to kill him.'

'Only if I had to,' said the detective, in a reasonable tone of voice. 'Look, we don't have time to argue. All this is moving faster than I'd planned. Back me up, will you?'

'Back you up?' shouted Starsky. But Perkins had started down the hill toward the clearing. Starsky joined him. They fired and several of the men in the crowd fell to the ground. Some of the others ran off. Some of them dropped their weapons, and raised their hands in surrender.

Starsky ignored them. He threw himself on top of the man trying to throttle Hutch. Between them, he and Hutch wrestled him into submission. They sat on their prisoner's body, and stared at each other for a long moment. The thud of a Colt Magnum, landing on the ground beside them, woke them from their trance.

'Here's your gun, Lieutenant,' said Detective Perkins. He reached into his jacket and Starsky whirled and trained his own gun on him. 'It's okay, Starsky. I'm just getting out my ID.' He opened a hidden pocket in his jacket and drew out the badge that identified him as Internal Affairs. 'I've been investigating the possibility that members of our police force were involved in a series of murders,' he said. 'And my investigations led me to infiltrate this... cult, I suppose you'd call it.'

'Internal Affairs? Infiltrating? I don't believe it,' said Hutch.

'Then don't believe it,' said Perkins. 'I can't blame you. I've been forced to act like a dirty cop on occasion. And I've had to hide the fact I was with IA. And I don't like queer cops. Sue me.'

'Nah,' said Starsky. 'You're not worth the trouble.'

*******************************

'I was set up, Captain,' Hutch insisted.

'No you weren't, Hutch. We didn't know Perkins was IA, or where his little undercover operation was leading. And IA couldn't reveal that, could they? Not if they were investigating our own police officers for involvement in serial murder.'

'He could have co-operated with me more, Captain. Instead of stonewalling me from day one. I still think he's dirty, IA or not. If he wasn't actually involved in the murders, as part of their inner circle, he was taking money to look the other way. I'm sure of it.'

'If you have no evidence to back up your allegations, Hutch, IA isn't going to buy it. We got Hogan and his followers...'

'Most of them.'

'Most of them, and we'll get the rest sooner or later. You and Starsky and your friends are heroes...'

'Are we? Then why don't I feel like a hero? Why do I still feel like there is no justice.'

'Go home, Hutch. Get some rest. There is no justice. Don't you know that yet?'

'Yeah. Thanks, Captain. You really cheer me up whenever I'm down.'

'That's not my job, Hutch. It's Starsky's.'

'Yeah. It's my job, Cap'n.' said Starsky. 'Come on, Hutch. Let's go see Spike. Cheer him up, before we go home.'

'Okay,' said Hutch. 'I can't fight both of you.'

'Don't look so defeated, son. You're a hero, whether you see it that way or not.'

****************************

'What was it you wanted to ask me, Hutch?' asked Starsky, in the peace of their bedroom.

'Ask you? Oh, yes. Had a couple of things I wanted to ask you.'

'Go ahead. Shoot,' said Starsky.

'No thanks. Had enough shooting for one day. But listen. There's a couple of things I've been wondering. If you don't like the idea, just tell me, and I'll forget it ever entered my mind. Okay?'

'Okay. But for Pete's sake, Hutch. Ask away.'

'Okay. Listen. How far do you want to come out?'

'Come out? You mean, come out as gay? Or whatever?'

'Yeah. Or whatever. I mean, if you want to keep hiding our relationship...'

'Our relationship? Do I want to hide it? For God's sake, Hutch! I keep tellin' you....'

'Yeah, yeah. I know. You keep tellin' me. But when it comes right down to it, really letting everyone know, that's different. Do you want to tell our families, for example?'

'Tomorrow. If you like,' said Starsky. He kissed the tip of Hutch's nose. 'Tomorrow. Or tonight, if you want to call them. Long distance calls are cheap, at 1 AM.'

'Nah,' said Hutch. 'It can wait until tomorrow. And I'd rather tell them in person. If you agree. If you want to come along.'

'I'll go buy the plane tickets. Now that's settled, what's this other big deal? You said you had a couple things you wanted to know.'

'Yeah. I do.' Hutch lay for a while, staring at the ceiling. 'Had a call the other day. From the mayor of Port Justine.'

'From who?'

'Mayor Seymour Blake, of Port Justine. Little town just down the coast.'

'Oh. That Port Justine,' said Starsky. 'Never heard of it.'

'You have now,' said Hutch. 'He asked me if I would consider the job of Chief of Police.'

'Chief of Police? In Port Justine? Do they have a police force for you to be chief of?'

'They do now,' said Hutch. 'Up until a few years ago, they had a sheriff. But things have been getting out of hand, and they need bigger muscle. Or so the mayor tells me. I... I told him I was gay, and in a relationship with a man.'

'What'd he say to that?' asked Starsky.'

'He said, as long as I wasn't breaking the law, he didn't care what I did in bed, or with whom. As long as I could do my job, he didn't care if I was a Martian with green blood, and orange spots. I told him I was a law-abiding citizen, and human.'

'If you say so,' said Starsky, winding a lock of Hutch's pale golden hair around his fingers.

'I say so,' said Hutch. 'Now. What do you think? Think I should take the job?'

'Do you want the job?' asked Starsky. 'Do you want to leave LA?'

Hutch stared at the ceiling again. After a long moment, he breathed his answer. 'Yes,' he said.

'Then take the job,' said Starsky.

'What about you?'

'What about me? I'll come with you. What do you think?'

'Will you be happy in Port Justine? What about your own job?'

'I can commute.   And something else. I want to start writing some scripts for Crime and Punishment. Got some good ideas, already. Maybe we could buy a house, right on the beach. How does that sound?'

How did that sound? Not being in the closet any more. Getting out of the cesspool that was LA. Living with Starsky in a house on the beach. Starsky writing scripts for a TV show.

Sounded like a wonderful fantasy, thought Hutch. Maybe they could make this fantasy come true.

*** The End ***

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