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Rock of Ages

Dawnwind

"I can't believe they let him off on a technicality." Hutch kicked the sand at his feet, then took a swig from the beer bottle he held loosely in one hand. "All the man hours, all of it wasted because some dumb-assed paralegal didn't file on time."

"Hey, take it easy on the paralegals," Starsky said gently with a wry lift of one eyebrow.

"The man is scum of the earth and he's walking the streets tonight because of a paperwork screw up." Hutch swigged the last of his Heineken and tossed the bottle into a pile of driftwood. "Doesn't that just fry you?" He faced Starsky for the first time since the tirade began. "Why are you so calm? Usually you're ranting and raving about the injustice of it all."

"We caught him. We did our job," Starsky said patiently, his voice low and intimate to counteract his partner's irrationality. "And the system still failed. Makes me mad as hell, but there ain't nothing I can do about it right now. We just sit on his tail until he screws up again, and then we nail him to the wall. Knowing Joey Falcone, it won't be long."

"Anybody ever tell you you're smarter than you look?"

"A big blond, name'a Hutchinson, I think," Starsky smirked. He toasted Hutch with his own beer bottle, took a drink and then passed it over to his partner. Pressing his back against the cement retainer wall separating the beach from the parking lot behind, Starsky soaked up the last rays of the sun. February was behind them now, with all its rain and changeable weather. March had turned the old saying around on its ear, coming in like a lamb. Spring had sprung in Southern California with balmy breezes, warm sun and brilliant, almost Technicolor blue skies.

Moderate swells rolled into the shore, the recent storms still affecting the incoming water. The ocean was all churned up like someone had dumped soapsuds into the waves, odd mounds of sea foam deposited all along the water's edge like snow drifts on a far flung Newfoundland coast. But this was no ecological disaster, just evidence of nature's whimsy. Cotton candy floss made of salt water. The sun lay low on the horizon casting a silver river of sequins across the sea, ever changing and glittering as the earth slowly shifted from afternoon to evening.

Accented against this spectacular backdrop, a little girl danced in the oncoming tide, half a dozen black braids bouncing and twisting as she frolicked. Although there were many people strolling on the sand enjoying the beautiful weather, Starsky found himself watching her. The child epitomized joy with every kick of her foot and sweep of her long arms. She'd wait, crouched down to experience the full effect of the oncoming water and then spring up, squealing with delight as the ocean swirled about her ankles. Over and over she played out this game, pitting herself in joyful competition with mother ocean.

"Look at her." Starsky pointed, squinting a little. She was almost indistinct silhouetted against the low-lying sun, a black figure overlaying shifting silver sparkles. There was an ethereal quality to the scene as if once the sun disappeared, the little girl would, too. She was part of the magic, a tangible representation of childhood's joy and freedom.

Shading his eyes with the hand holding the beer bottle, Hutch gazed quietly at her, a hint of a smile curving his lips. The little girl's laughter could be heard over the constant roar of the waves and from somewhere off to the left, a dog barked at a seagull. "She's having fun."

"C'mon," Starsky toed off his blue sneakers, and tore off his socks. "Let's chase the waves."

"Starsky, the water is 45 degrees this time of year."

"You know what they say about cold feet…" Starsky winked, wanting this. Wanting fun with his partner, to forget their adult jobs for the moment and just be. He held out a coaxing hand and Hutch relented, the little smile quirking just a bit.

"If I get stung by a jelly fish…" Hutch warned as he was stripping off his footwear.

"Party pooper," Starsky joshed, grabbing Hutch's hand. He jerked them towards the water, feeling the tug of wonder the ocean always inspired. There was such majesty and might in the power of the water. It could tumble a house with a single wave, and yet soothe a troubled soul with its grandeur and serenity.

"Samara!" a voice called over the cry of seagulls foraging for food along the shore. "Time to go home!"

The little girl turned, searching for her mother's face amongst the beachcombers and waved merrily, her black eyes alight. It was the first time Starsky had seen her clearly as a solid child and not some mystical water sprite. A lively brown face, black braids flopping over her forehead. She was unperturbed by her mother's time limit and took one last splash into the shoals. Gamboling like a frisky pony she kicked up a spray of water, splattering Starsky's jeans.

"Sorry!" she apologized, pausing for a moment to speak to him, glancing over at her mother. Obviously she'd been warned about speaking to strangers, especially a man.

"S'okay, I planned on getting wetter'n that," Starsky assured her and she brightened mischievously.

"I gotta go. Take this," Samara handed him a perfectly smooth rock, cleansed by wind and tide. "It belongs to the mermaids." And then she was gone, racing up the sandy beach towards her waiting parent.

"Made quite a conquest," Hutch observed with amusement.

"I gotta way with women." Starsky boasted, watching the ever-changing color and shape of the whitecaps. Not just white, but gray and green, flecked with mint and hints of molten mercury. But as the sun dipped into the slot beyond the edge of the horizon where it was so easy to imagine that the world just ended instead of curving on towards Hawaii and China, there was a shift in the color spectrum. Now oranges and golds spread their palate over the sea; a distant freighter turned to pure bronze. The magic hadn't ended just because the child had gone. Her purity of heart had cleansed the day as surely as the roll of waves had turned an old rock into something special. Starsky warmed the stone in the palm of his hand, sensing more than feeling the endurance and strength it retained. This rock could be millions of years old, carried by the ocean's pull from where ever it had begun to this beach in Bay City. The little girl had passed on a chunk of history, and each hand that held it affected it as surely as nature's gigantic lapidary.

Giving in to impulse, which Hutch accused him of doing daily, Starsky plunged into the roiling waves, water swirling up around his calves. It was cold, almost shockingly so, and in seconds his toes ached, but it was fun. The saturated sand was buoyant and springy, too inviting to ignore. He dug his toes in, unearthing bits of sand dollar and clamshell. As the tide receded Starsky could feel the suck of the sand underfoot, drawing him back into the sea like a primordial creature. "C'mon Hutch," he laughed. "The water's fine!"

Hutch waded in with the next volley of wavelets, laughing now, too. "It's freezing!" he said accusingly, chuckling as the water lapped playfully around his ankles.

Starsky kicked at a clump of frothy bubbles, disintegrating them completely. But the next instant another one was there to take its place and this time Hutch stomped down on the uncaring foam, fatigue and disenchantment slipping off his face.

Shadows were lengthening now as the sun sunk into the west. Gilt-edged clouds, dark blue velvet on the top and unearthly yellow pink below highlighted the evening sky and Starsky could only just see Hutch's blond hair in the gathering twilight.

"You're it!" Starsky tagged him on the shoulder and took off, galloping through the water at all speed. As he'd hoped, Hutch took off after him, pounding across the wet sand. Starsky slowed long enough to look back his partner. It wasn't often that he saw him this happy and carefree, and Starsky wished for a camera to capture the scene. Then he turned back just in time to see the large sea-washed log right before he tripped over it. Sprawling head long into the sand, Starsky curled and rolled over his shoulder with effortless grace.

Standing on the log, Hutch tagged his foot, regarding him with fond amusement.

"Hurt yourself anywhere?"

"Just my standing in the Olympic vaulting team," Starsky stood, brushing off clinging sand from his jeans and blue shirt. "I got something for you." He fished the rock out of his pocket where he'd stored it for safekeeping and placed it into Hutch's open palm.

"Sorry to have to break this to you, Rocky, but pet rocks have come and gone," Hutch teased.

"'S'not a pet," Starsky snorted. "More like a worry stone. Only with this one you give it all the crap we deal with on the job, and then throw it out as far as you can. The rock is hard, you aren't, Hutch. It can handle the stuff we can't."

"Yeah," Hutch nodded and if there'd been more light, Starsky would have sworn he could see a glint of tears. Clasping the stone tightly, Hutch raised it up to his heart and bowed his head as if he were praying. Then with a mighty heave, he tossed the rock out into the surf. A seagull swooped in to watch it plop into the ocean, but there was no food to be had so the bird flew away. "That helped…" Hutch spread his arms to encompass the beach, the sea and the sky. "All of this. How'd you know?"

"I know you," Starsky smiled, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders to watch the last few seconds of the day.

Fin