I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

Notes: the mammoth begins .. be warned that this will not be posted daily. The story is 99.9% complete but the muses are somewhat displeased over chapters here and there. I can't thank a series of very special people quite enough for their support, advice and help. KQ, CinderH, TheDogo and JazzieG - no matter how minor you THINK your contribution is, it's so much more. Thank you!

H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O*

"Extinguish my eyes, I'll go on seeing you.

Seal my ears, I'll go on hearing you.

And without feet I can make my way to you,

without a mouth I can swear your name.

Break off my arms, I'll take hold of you

with my heart as with a hand.

Stop my heart, and my brain will start to beat.

And if you consume my brain with fire,

I'll feel you burn in every drop of my blood."

― Rainer Maria Rilke

Chapter One: No Kau a Kau ~ For Eternity

It had started, in his opinion, like any other teenaged crush. Except, she had been barely twelve and nothing but a vibrant spot of laughter which carried with it the promise of sun and fresh tropical breezes. He had been seventeen, soon to be eighteen, and entirely impressed with himself. With a promise of a dark-skinned exotic handsomeness, back then he had been all arms and legs. At most, awkwardly gawky and completely unremarkable.

He had been just another one of the many other rowdy local natives who toyed with gangs and looked for both trouble and an unlimited amount of very bad … fun.

He had certainly noticed her, but he hadn't been anything like her real friends. No matter their age difference, he had been nothing like anyone she might even wanted to be around with his loud-mouthed opinions, cigarettes, overly arrogant attitude, and attention-seeking antics; some of which had brought down some very real trouble on his young head.

Trouble that had never crossed her path because one, she would always simply be on an entirely different plane of existence. And two, because any of her over protective cousins would never, ever, have permitted any form of unpleasantness to stain her sunny smile.

There was a third valid reason, too. But over time, he hadn't cared much for his friends' lascivious opinions as he openly stared at the nubile waif on the beach. The child who could always surf better than any single one of his friends, hands down. No contest.

Making her even more unattainable was her world class junior level surfer status. Status being the operative word. She had an entourage which included photographers and a field of professional sports journalists. A bevy of pedestrian wannabes had always followed in her sandy footsteps. Most were young girls and not yet even nine or ten years old with dreams of being like their favorite sun-swept superstar. Until that day dawned though, they followed avidly, gawking and begging for autographs or the occasional picture.

Secretly at first, because his friends would have made fun of him, he wanted to be among them. He craved and yet hid his yearnings to be one of them. He had wanted to get close enough for an autograph, for a picture and to have dared touch her arm. He had even ridiculously dreamed of even carrying her surfboard.

Utterly. With no doubt. Ridiculous.

She had been more than competent and quite capable of doing anything with a professional, confident ease. As the local townie boy, merely known as Cristo in the poor neighborhood he came from, he had been a complete nothing.

Sure he could surf, and he had even been considered to be very good, though not enough to compete. Because of that, he hadn't been in her league and not even close to being on her radar.

He would have denied and even lied that he had tried to get close to her. Denied sending her small childish gifts of stuffed toys or a pretty lei. Denied down to his very soul that he'd ever sent anonymous birthday presents once he'd discovered her special day.

But the truth was that he'd done all of those things once, or maybe even twice. He had tried to get her attention when his own pack of loosely-defined set of friends weren't looking. He had tried a number of things as she accelerated through the competitive surfing ranks and his enamored feelings kept pace whenever the one-off opportunity presented itself.

There had been a few times when he'd gotten lucky. He'd focused solely on his prize and he'd sworn that she had looked at him each of those times and all of heaven had stopped in its tracks. She'd looked at him and special moments had been shared to be captured in time within her soft smile and beautiful youthful eyes.

He carried those shared treasures with him and over the years, these gifts had morphed and had become so much more. They had shared a bond.

Those blind moments of luck had become a fine appreciation and then evolved into adoration. His adoration blossomed and grew to become a larger sense of an overwhelming infatuation. His existence was the textbook birth of a dangerous obsessive psychopath.

His own heart had broken and he had cried with her the day her career ended. By then, she was nearly a woman and it was too late for him to turn away since he'd fallen for her completely. She had lost half of herself though when a catastrophic accident of human flesh pounding against the sheer will and strength of a wall of water took away her radiance. And at first, he had felt that keen loss with her. He had raged as she must have against the unfairness of what had been taken away from her … and then subsequently from him.

But then he had realized that her failure ... her loss ... had only leveled his playing field. The accident had changed her, but over time, Cristo found a new way to reverently place her on a different pedestal; one that he could now converge with.

In the past though, because of his festering flux of young passion, he had continually dared to lurk near her in the hospital even after the media had begun to drift away. He had hated the media for it. He had hated them for their typical pattern copied throughout their oftentimes uncaring hounding profession which required them to chase after others who were now celebrating and coming to the fore in a one-time champion's dismally sad wake.

So, he stayed as best as he could manage because he couldn't so blindly walk away from her as they had so caustically done. Dedicated to his very core, he had lurked and more gifts had eventually followed: anonymous bouquets of flowers at first lost amongst those from avid admirers and well-wishers. But there had been a point where that hadn't been enough.

As more left her side and she seemed more approachable, he had finally gathered his courage to truly visit her. Face to face. Eye to eye and dressed in his finest clothes. With a riot of priceless tropical flowers clenched within a trembling damp hand; he had vowed that he would really see her and announce his unfailing love.

He clearly remembered that day; it was something he could never forget. His normally young dusky face had reddened in blotchy rash-like patches and he'd started sweating heavily under his most expensive dress shirt. Breathless in his excitement he had entered the hospital's elevator and had gone to her floor. He had gone but ultimately had indeed lost his courage only four steps from the elevator doors as they softly closed behind him and he saw them. Faster than he could think, breathless had become a panicked hyperventilation. In a frightened confusion, he had lingered outside the elevators closest to her hospital room as bits of pink petals fell to the floor when he strayed in a nervous uncertain circle, only able to watch from afar.

Her family had been respectfully boisterous as they mingled in her doorway that day - supportive and yet sad as their tiny protege lost her future. Their stalwart presence had dashed his courage to leave him skulking once more amongst shadows; always too afraid to speak or introduce himself despite his faith in their future together.

His learnings that day had been harsh because he had made too many mistakes. Mistakes that had caused others to notice him more than he had once assumed. His face had flushed more as her cousins turned his way, curious of his odd behavior and unexpected arrival. Shushed comments had been whispered, shared and then he had no where to go as one in particular descended upon him in the hallway.

As her primary protector, Chin Ho Kelly had noticed him over the years. Kelly had noticed him on the beach, at the surfing competitions and had established a file of sorts against him which had deemed him unworthy. Though proof had been at best slim in many instances, he had also been closely watched … monitored … and managed. Making matters worse, his early gang history had been called to the fore.

Wrongly thinking himself as having been invisible, he had been only too naive and much too unaware of her cop cousin's wrath and suspicions as to where some of her anonymous gifts had originated. So on that treacherous day, he had been questioned in the hallway of the hospital and subsequently removed from the premises as his bouquet left an ugly scatter of torn yellow and pink blooms across the cold linoleum floor.

No one would listen. No one cared. In that instant, he had learned that certain fingers pointed towards him - and rightly so - for certain anonymous gifts inappropriate for a child.

Though he had colored at the angry allegations, he'd wisely held his tongue because neither this cousin nor his HPD counterparts had any real proof. They had suppositions, sketchy statements and suspicions, yet no actual confirmation of his supposed wrong-doings. Hurtfully in the end, he had been removed from the hospital grounds for what appeared to be the guilt of his mere existence. Distressingly, he had heard ugly words whispered in his direction such as pedophile, voyeur and stalker.

He had been noticed in all the wrong ways and everything had been added up to equal what seemed to be an unseemly predilection of a twenty-two year old man to have for a young slip of a sixteen year old girl.

Now, twelve years later with the blessed heat of his long-missed Hawaiian sun blazing soothingly on his broad back, he had come home.

"Those days are over," he whispered angrily under his breath as his bare feet bore into the hot sand. He had returned because a youthful infatuation had never waned and he had never given up his own hope. If anything, his desires were now an insipid obsession and was being forced to revisit that special sense of fate which demanded they share the remainder of their lives happily together. Without her in his life, he was being sorely tested as seasons moved with their excruciating sameness from one to the other.

Pushing his sudden surge of anger rudely down, he heaved in a deep breath. At the mature age of thirty-four, he was fit and handsome. He was someone in the world and he possessed the prestige to prove it. His toes curled in the heat of the sand as his bare back crisped as if scalded and sweat beaded his forehead. Even wearing sunglasses, his eyes were squinting towards the white sheen of the ocean where two heads bobbed in cadence.

"Finally," he murmured, focusing on one particular dark-head in spite of the hot trickle of sweat tickling his cheek. With an ease born of innate skill, he automatically racked his sunglasses to the top of his head and raised his camera to his face. He sighted and then zoomed tightly in on his sole subject. The rapid patter of the shutter clicking matched his escalating heartbeat, thrumming in time to the pulse in his neck.

He still owned his private collection of her photographs, old news articles and magazine features. Old VHS videos taped from multiple interviews and appearances were catalogued by year, month and day in his personal library. He planned to move those to a more modern technology in order to better preserve their importance. Regardless, he knew each of her competitions by heart and could rattle off the scores of her best events, along with the weather conditions from that day no matter the year.

Despite the ample size of his collection, his own photographs which began as distant, grainy earnest attempts, remained his favorites. However, he barely acknowledged that his passion for her had in fact, defined his professional career as a world-renowned photojournalist. He had become precisely one of those he had once so learned to despise for abandoning her in her time of need. He had made his own career by chasing seemingly unattainable stars. For the last twelve years he had established a new persona through photography and had been stunningly successful. He no longer needed to run or hide, or even convince himself that he might want to forget her. Instead, he had remained determined to come home; to have a real home with a beautiful and loving wife.

Tall and remarkably handsome, he now also had money, a modicum of culture and a tangible prestige … and he still had his first beloved passion. So he had made an initial call from the mainland to a particular real estate agent. The daft woman, Jayne Yee, was a romantic and swooned in delight over mention of a fiancé and locating a blessed home as a special wedding gift. Within fifteen short days of his initial query, she'd conjured three likely options and he'd greedily accepted the first for its private beachfront acre of privacy and for the layout which met other very specific needs.

As he settled into his new lifestyle and prepared for his love's arrival, he found himself unable to quaff older habits. Just weeks after setting foot on Oahu, he had easily found her on the beach and had stared in awe because she was just as beautiful as the first time he'd ever seen her ride the ocean.

Unable to help himself, he had spontaneously purchased an anonymous bouquet of her favorite tropical flowers. With old connections newly forged, he had gotten her home address and had the healthy blooms sent directly to her doorstep. Then he had waited nearly a month to send another bouquet daringly to her office. He aimed to woo and not reveal his hand too early, so he was excruciatingly careful as he executed each of his moves.

His third gift was fairly recent and mimicked one of old: a stuffed teddy bear holding a plush red heart in its paws which he had left on the hood of her car. Scarcely a week earlier, and with no one looking, he had adroitly left the toy sit in the heat of the sun while she surfed. Placed just so nearest the windshield so she would find it before driving away. Having faith with a pleased confidence that she would remember a nearly identical teddy bear which he'd sent to her for her fourteenth birthday.

Now, the sun continued to blaze unrelentingly down on his back as he stood boldly on the beach, in plain view, mere steps from where he'd placed his chair and cooler neatly on the sand.

"Kono," he whispered softly, a smile dancing in his eyes which were hidden behind his camera. He stood there, watching her surf for the sport's sheer enjoyment …. and it seemed … his.

The gold necklace he'd purchased at the jewelry store the night before was boring a vicious hole in his pocket. He planned to mail this much more expensive gift privately to her home that very afternoon and for the first time, truly wished he could bear witness to her joy.

"So pretty," he murmured. She was smiling and laughing with a youngster's ease and it moved him on a deeply emotional level. Turning slightly to the right, he paused to settle his breathing before he could unsling his camera from his shoulder in order to begin taking a series of photographs. The repetitive and familiar motion soothed his mind and helped him to focus. These first few images meant nothing and would be disposed of until he panned back to where she was demonstrating something to her blonde-haired haole surfing student.

"Stupid useless haole," he snorted in absolute disgust as he switched to the second camera slung around his neck to sight his object. "You're wasting her time."

The blonde man was fit but a pathetic novice. Still, he felt an odd jolt of jealousy as the two sat shoulder to shoulder out on the waves much too long and far too companionably for his liking. There was even a flare of anger aimed at Kono for her near-jilting of himself, because they were meant to be together. His gifts to her were testament of that love. But for now, he would forgive her that initial transgression. He would stuff that feeling of resentment down and away.

"He's wasting your time … so pathetic. You're much too special, Kono," he breathed out happily. "You would make anyone boring and ordinary."

As a professional photojournalist, he had his preferred equipment for any particular job at hand. With him on the beach, he had two high end digital cameras in hand with four particular lenses. Another and more specialized camera - his favorite and most expensive by far - sat safely stowed in his truck. Without pause, he zoomed in so tightly only she existed in the frame as he quickly took picture after picture to swell his heart with pride. He imagined that she was looking at him even though she was spotting her intended path towards the beach if she decided upon the next set of waves.

"Hands off," he muttered as his smile fled his face to be replaced by a hateful sneer. He used the zoom lens to focus sharply on the man and then bounce back to her. Hidden behind his camera, anger suffused his eyes as the blonde drifted close to touch her gently on the shoulder. He was disappointed that she didn't evade the touch and his ire grew.

Now knee to knee, the haole leaned awkwardly into Kono. Touching and bantering to make her laugh soundlessly over the waves and sea birds. If not for the din of the ocean, he would have heard her lilting tones as she grabbed the mainlander's hand to playfully almost upend his seat on the surfboard. Instead he could only watch their dance, imagine their laughter, and feel his anger settle deeply in his chest.

"That will have to end," he growled low and dangerously. They had both matured and she was finally ready for him. There was no doubt in his mind of that lovely fact which would achieve their ultimate fate of being together.

There was no media nor hangers-on to foil their destiny. No cousins or meddlesome coaches. After all the passage of time, there was no one left to block his way. No one except maybe one lousy mainlander student who represented little in the way of anything materially important.

"You still have it," he whispered under his breath as she began to paddle leaving the haole behind to woefully bob in place. "Just gorgeous."

He smiled in appreciation while taking more pictures as she attacked her chosen wave with an angelic ease. Once more, his powerful zoom lens only had eyes for her breathtaking beauty. For a moment, he was uncaring of any attention he might draw to himself. He laughed out loud in pure enjoyment as she completed her run only to turn back towards the sea for more.

She and her student seemed to be in for the long haul that perfect Saturday and so, he finally took a seat in his lounge chair. He buried his feet in the sand after he stretched his long legs comfortably out in front of him to enjoy his view.

"It's good to be home," he grinned softly as he shaded his eyes once more as if panning the horizon when in reality, he only had one sun-dripped silhouette in his line of sight.

He was home and he was finally ready to recapture Kona Kalakaua's very heart.

~ to be continued ~