Lighthouse of Love

Pariah missing scene.

Story Notes:

Karen Leigh lights my way. I thank her for all her efforts!

You are my beacon of strength and hope.
Torrent waves may crash against me trying to pull me down.
The raging sea of life is merciless and many times I almost drown.

Searching the darkness, guiding me to your warm embrace.
The lamp of heaven sets into the sea; its glow of grace upon your face.

The love in your heart penetrates through the foggiest night.
Guiding me to safety, pulling me into love’s purest light.

A fortress of white granite stone.
Straight and tall, you stand alone.

You never left me, even when I pushed you away.
You stood rock still next to me every single day.

Even if God’s hand reached out for me today.
My life, worth living for having known you. I’d be okay.

I look into the blueness of the ocean spray that echoes your eyes
You made my life bearable, living under heaven’s earthly skies.

Starsky sat on the jagged rocks over looking the watery kingdom of the Pacific Ocean. It was a dark and misty night. The stone lighthouse behind him wailed its warnings. The eerie sound spreading out over the expanses of the ocean swells. Enraged black waves roared beneath him cutting into the stonework below. He looked out over the desolate waters; looked to the ends of the earth. His soul threatened to plummet off the edge. A tiny moan escaped his lips from the deplorable pain he held so deep within him. Was there an end to the reeking decay of crime? He envisioned blood-frothed seas, a chasm of ivory bone and clouds of pitch black spewing out evil to the world below. Hutch was his only stronghold on what beauty on earth really meant.

How do I tell him what he means to me? He’s always there no matter what I say or do. So many times I’ve messed up big time. I let him down. Yet he comes back to me time and time again standing tall, not faltering, not giving up on me. How many times have I pushed him away; trying to deal with my pain on my own, trying not to burden him with another one of my mistakes. But he’s there at my door. at my desk, on the bar stool next to me, in my car; a hand on my shoulder, his eyes penetrating my soul, letting me know it’s all going to be okay. His heart may only be the size of his fist but his soul is immeasurable. Relentless is his love and protection. Never greedy, never wanting for himself. He is an inspiration to me, to the human spirit. Like a fine painting or reverent poem or an epic novel; he is an artist in a world of despair.

And I am there beside him. I soak in what he gives me like a giant sponge sucking up all the waters of the seven seas. Today I messed up again. I shot a kid. Lonny Craig was his name. Kid was wearing a ski mask. Ah hell, he brought the gun down, he was going to level me to the pavement and send me into the next life. I had no choice; my mind knows that. Even before I knew he was a kid, my gut twisted when he wouldn’t stand down. God, why didn’t he stand down? Why do they think they can rule the world just because they feel the power of life and death in the grip of their hand? Why do they place money and drugs and material glitter before flesh and blood? In the end, none of these things will save you, none will bring you peace and none will take you home. I gave the kid every chance in the rulebook. Warned him, fired a warning shot in the air. Dumb kid wouldn’t heed me. Now he’s dead and I have to live with that fact the rest of my life.

Hutch waited at the car as I walked up to that house. Lonny’s house, a house he would not be coming home to ever again. He knew I had to do this alone and he let me. I waded alone through the sea of grieving relatives. Their eyes burning into me and constricting my heart with even more guilt. My stomach lodged in my throat but I could feel Hutch’s bright, blue eyes at my back. He’s always at my back, never letting me falter. If I crumpled to the ground right now I’d never hit the pavement. Hutch would be there to catch me; that’s the safety we have with one another. That’s the kind of guy he is. Nothing would keep him from me. If he had to walk through hell’s brimstone fire, he would. Fight the devil himself in hand-to-hand combat. If he had to swim the English Channel full of sharks. If he had to take the pyramids apart block by block the guy would be there for me like no other living, breathing soul on this earth ever could. Now how do you thank someone for that? How the hell does one guy tell another guy he loves him without sending false signals? I love Hutch. He’s my partner, my best friend, and my brother. Those words just don’t cut it though. He’s like this lighthouse I sit under. The beacon of his heart shoots through me and holds me up off the ground and keeps me on the straight and narrow. And when I am lost and cold, I can always find my way home because of Hutch. His heart penetrates through all my pain and all my faults and it lights my way. If God’s hand plucked me from this cliff, from this earth right now, it would be okay. My life is fulfilled because of my partner.

God, I killed a kid today. I can’t even imagine what that poor mother must be going through. She said a mother loves her son, grieves for her son but a mother knows what her son has become. She may have known her son had hit the streets, turned bad, but that doesn’t deny the fact a sixteen-year-old kid is dead. At my hand. I took his life; doused it like water on flames. I don’t know if I can ever touch that piece of cold molded metal again. What if I mistakenly shoot Hutch one night in a dark alley. What if I kill my partner, snuff the light of his heart out, and it’s my fault. I couldn’t live with that. It could happen. I think I could be sick right here just thinking of it. I see it so vivid in my head. A blast of light blazing down a dark alley; me thinking it’s some crook, the bad guy. When I get to him, I know he’s dead by the pooling blood. I turn him over, ready to just shake my head at another fallen criminal. But instead my whole body shakes sending me whirling off the Richter scale because it’s Hutch. A-and I-I shot him and h-he’s d-d-dead. Oh god, it’s in my head clear as that foghorn warning the ships in the night. Just like Lonny is in my head. I see that kid’s face over and over, his lifeless young boy’s eyes staring up into the sunlit sky but never seeing the light of day again. How does a kid get hold of a gun? A kid that should be in school worrying about what his mother will say, because he got three F’s on his report card. Worrying that his hair is not parted right. Worrying that the girl at the next desk thinks he’s a dork. He should be trying out for the football team, going to movies, getting his first job. Screaming cause he left his stomach at the top of a roller coaster. Dreaming of what he wants to be when he grows up. Damn, the kid will never be a man, never know and understand what the word means.

I-I just don’t know if I can be a cop any more. Sorry Dad. I can’t take that chance. What if I kill another kid; what if I kill Hutch? I couldn’t remain on this earth if I did that. Yet I sure as hell couldn’t take my own life. I’d just end up running around the city like a banshee taking chances and sticking my back end out in the open till one day I just catch a bullet in the chest and that would be all she wrote.

Starsky wrapped his arms around himself as a chill wind blew past. His eyes closed tight, trying to squeeze the memory of the day from his sight. It was then, in his greatest moment of despair, he felt the squeeze of love’s warm touch on his shoulder. He didn’t need to open his eyes or unfurl his arms. It was Hutch at his back holding him up out of emotion’s depths. Keeping him from drowning in his own guilt and sorrow. Lighting his way home. Hutch kept one hand to his friend and the other held his black coat tighter to him. His long blond hair waving in the night. They didn’t move, didn’t utter a word. Starsky sat still upon the jagged rocks and Hutch stood staunch and silent behind him, like he always did and would. The north wind blew its haunting whistle through the rocks. The swells of life’s creation spraying upon their faces. Hutch’s touch on his shoulder a simple gesture that held earth-shattering meaning. It steadied his shaky feet. Warmed his cooling body, pumped his dawdling blood through his veins and nurtured his aching soul. Linked to one another, they looked out into the night. Starsky clinging to Hutch’s map. He made his way back to being a cop, back to being whole. The magic of his partner’s shores kept his feet firmly planted in his port of call. The lighthouse of his partner’s love would always guide him through the roughest seas and gale storms.