Disclaimer: I, authorintraining7, do not own anything of Hawaii Five-0 (both the newer series and the original series), and I am not profitting from this fanfiction. I also do not own anything of Bon Jovi's, and I am not profitting from the use of his name and his song title mentioned in this chapter.

Danny laid in bed with hopeless dread. It was ten in the morning. That's right. Ten. Ten in the morning. Any decent person would have gotten through half of his morning by now, but not him. What made this situation all the more pathetic was that this had been his routine for almost a month. Danny hated this routine, hated it with a passionate vengeance, yet he didn't seem to have the nerve, let alone the will, to fight this disgusting habit. Hawaii had taken his rock-hard motivation and determination and slowly, with sick enjoyment, crumbled it under its lazy, fat fingers. He had always resented Hawaii, but, now, after swallowing him up and not having the nerve to spit him out, Danny despised Hawaii.

What made everything worse was that he was surrounded by Hawaii. Everywhere he turned, everywhere he glanced, there was Hawaii. There was a palm tree, there was an ocean, there was that stupid volcano-his apartment, his Hawaii-free apartment, was starting to smell like Hawaii. Danny wasn't sure how that was possible, considering the hours he had spent over the last month spraying every inch of his apartment with Febreeze, but, as he remained in bed, he could even smell Hawaii in his comforter; his New Jersey comforter; the one that was supposed to reek of New Jersey.

Danny was giving up. He could feel it in his fiery soul. His normal-person routine had died, his New Jersey-Hawaiian apartment was morphing itself back into a Hawaiian-Hawaiian apartment, and, just the other day, he forgot an entire lyric to his favorite Bon Jovi song, Have a Nice Day.

This island was eating him alive, and taking its sadistic time with it.

If it wasn't for his precious, ignorant eight-year-old daughter, who was dragged to this awful island by her mother and new, rich, and oddly shiny step father and then brainwashed into loving said awful island, Danny would have swam back to the mainland months ago. At last, his circumstances were his circumstances, and, if being with his Gracie meant he had to sacrifice his soul to a large rock in the middle of the ocean, so be it.

That didn't mean he had to like it though.

With acceptance of his depressing and devastating fate, Danny plopped the side of his head down on his pillow and stared at his clock.

10: 25 AM

Danny didn't bother to cringe. He had expected his sloppy routine to worsen over time. Nevertheless, he did feel his heart unnaturally jump in his chest for a beating second. Then it returned to its complacent rhythm.

With a strength Danny didn't think he had in him, he forced himself up into a sitting position.

He didn't want to admit that getting fired from the Honolulu Police Department was getting to him, but, as he picked up his Hawaii-smelling comforter and threw it in his over-flowing laundry basket, Danny was beginning to realize his overwhelming hate for this island was getting to be unhealthy for his mental state. He did hate Hawaii, he would murder the island if that was at all possible, but it wasn't until after his stupid, arrogant, self-absorbed, idiotic, worthless, fat, dumb, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid chief had fired him that he really began to mean the roaring rants he gave about said hate for said state. If it were at all possible, Danny would go back in time and murder Captain Cook, the white, over-achieving, idiotic, stupid, stupid, stupid discoverer of Hawaii.

Danny, an emotionless expression of acceptance on his face, walked with a slump through his bare hallway and into his kitchen/living room/guest bedroom. His eyes scanned over the one-room-wonder with familiar disgust. The dishes overwhelmed the counters so much that some had fallen and broken on top of the sticky tiled-floor. He could almost smell the mold that was growing on some of those dishes, hidden under layers of other dirty dishes. The living room/guest bedroom section of the one-room-wonder had a pull-out bed pulled out and covered with a stained sheet. The obnoxious-yellow couch, which was the pull-out bed's origin, was scratchy and uncomfortable, thereby useless as a couch. Dust covered the TV and the DVD set; even the handprints Gracie made on the dusty equipment had a layer of dust on top of it.

Gracie hadn't been in his apartment for a while.

The thought, the reminder, caused Danny's eyes to well up. He felt angry, but was too exhausted to express the anger. Instead, he settled for standing there, a lost look in his eyes.

He hated Hawaii; so very much.

The sharp and repetitive ring of the doorbell broke Danny from his fog. Irritated by his own annoying doorbell, he trudged to the door and yanked it open...

At his doorstep was a gorgeous, young woman. Her complexion was as dark and smooth as a mocha beverage, but she smelt of flowers. Her dark eyes seemed pointed, but kind, deep with emotion yet professionally emotionless. She was smiling at him and, after a beat, Danny felt himself smile back.

"Hi, Detective Williams?" she asked politely, as if she knew the answers but felt the need to verify anyway.

"Former," he answered bitterly, his smiling fading quickly.

Her own smile faltered awkwardly, but she managed to keep it in place as she stuck her hand out towards him.

"I'm Chin Ho's cousin, Kono." she introduced.

Danny took the hand and shook it, his interest in her peaking once more.

"His cousin? Is Chin okay?"

"Just fine, brah."

Both Danny and Kono looked over at the approaching Chin, who was carrying several bags in his arms.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Danny called as Chin dropped the bags at Danny's doorstep. Kono took a considerable step back as Danny motioned his arms angrily at the luggage, "What's this?"

"That is most of my stuff. Some of it is Kono's," Chin answered with a sad grin.

Danny pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, his frustration rattling up his bones.

"I gathered that, but see," Danny began, slowly lowering his hand and opening his eyes with specific purpose, "what I wanted to know was why you had brought 'your stuff' all the way to my apartment and then, nonchalantly, drop it at my doorstep as if it was some lost puppy and I was Santa Claus."

Chin's sad grin quickly turned into a sad frown.

"We got evicted from my apartment."

After a shocked beat, Danny cursed. He rubbed his hand against his forehead in an act of forlorn thought. He then glanced up at Chin, who glanced away in shame.

"Man, I'm so sorry," Danny apologized, reaching out his hand and patting his friend's arm sympathetically.

Chin nodded his understanding, looking back up at Danny with another sad grin.

The hallway then felt particularly cramped. The aged, scratched-up yellow of the walls seemed to be absorbing what was left of the air. Kono, feeling the most out of place, announced she was going to go get the rest of her stuff.

"Wait a minute," Danny said, stopping Kono in her tracks. His hand was reached out to her, as if mentally holding her in place, but his eyes were focused on Chin, "Since when has your cousin lived with you? Why haven't I ever heard about her?"

Chin sighed and was preparing himself to explain, but Danny was far from finished with his side of the conversation.

"What? We're partners for almost a year, and I don't get to hear about this lovely relative of yours?"

Kono smiled.

"Danny-" Chin began, but Danny still wasn't finished.

With great exaggeration, he motioned his hands about.

"I told you about Gracie. I even told you about the evil 'Step-Stan' and I'm not even living with him. I talked about my mom, my dad, my mentally disturbed siblings, five-count 'em-FIVE cousins, all of which are horrendously humiliating and pathetic, but then you have this wonderful relative that you are, apparently, sharing your home with, and I get squat?"

"Kono," Chin said, ignoring Danny for a moment to make eye-contact with his cousin. With his head, he motioned towards the rickety, wooden stairwell down the porch-like hallway, "Go get your stuff."

"You gonna talk about me, cuz?" Kono asked jokingly as she made her way past the pile of suitcases and the two stubborn men.

"Just go," Chin instructed half-heartedly, smiling as his little cousin casually walked down the hall and then down the wooden stairwell. When she was far enough away, Chin turned back to Danny, who was waiting expectantly with his arms crossed. Sighing, Chin said, "Look, brah, she came to live with me a few days ago. She, apparently, got fired."

"Apparently?"

"Yeah, I'm not buying it," Chin revealed, glancing over at the stairwell, "I think she's just worried about me and taking some time off to keep an eye on me."

"You know, a cousin who is worried about you has got to be pretty close to you," Danny observed, scratching his nose conspicuously before notably glaring at Chin.

Chin rolled his eyes.

"Look, brah-"

"Forget it. And stop calling me 'brah'. This is my house-"

"-your apartment."

"-and I only allow the King's good English in it. Got it?"

"Try telling that to Kono," Chin warned bemused.

"Hey, my apartment, my rules. I can tell her anything I want."

The two stared at each other for a moment, a weighted smile on both of their lips. Then Danny glanced away and scratched the back of his neck nervously, uncomfortable with the awkward staring contest the two seemed to have started.

"Hey, listen," Chin said, peering back at the stairwell before looking back at Danny. His smile seemed to have obtained more weight upon it as he spoke, "I'm really sorry to barge in on you like this."

Danny scoffed, slapping a hand sloppily through the air between them.

"Forget about it. What are friends for?"

"Yeah, but everything with HPD-"

"Hey," Danny interrupted loudly, his eyes hard and sincere, "forget about it."

The look of guilt that settled over Chin's face told Danny that he definitely would not forget about it. Before Danny could angrily rant away the shame and guilt his Hawaiian friend continued to hold, Kono was making her way towards them with three fairly-large bags in her arms. Impressed, Danny's attention instantly snapped over to her.

"Wow. You need any help there, Butch?" Danny joked as the petite woman carried child-sized suitcases.

"Are you offering, Sundance?" she joked back, a kind smirk on her lips.

Danny, yet again, smiled at her.

"I like this one," he commented sincerely before taking a suitcase.

"Right back at ya, brah," she replied with a seductive wink.

As she walked over the bags (which remained piled on top of his welcome mat) and then into his apartment, Danny couldn't help but observe her with a youthful sparkle in his eye.

"Watch it," Chin warned half-heartedly after picking up the bags at his feet, "she's off limits."

"Hey, I'm watching it," Danny responded defensively, his free hand waving in the air for unneeded emphasis. As Chin rolled his eyes and headed inside, Danny suddenly felt a little desperate to change the embarrassing topic, "So, what did she used to do, anyway?"

"She was a professional surfer," Chin stated coolly, smirking when Danny tripped over his own welcome mat.

*.*.*.*

He hadn't taken the job for the pay, though it was at such a high amount that it was actually insulting. In fact, ever since he agreed to do the job, he had lost a lot of respect from his fellow SEALs, who made a habit of making petty side comments whenever he was nearby. No, he definitely didn't take it for the money. He took it for Hawaii.

It was very foolish (even he knew this) to feel like he had to be on an assignment or a mission to go to the island, but, to him, Hawaii wasn't just an island, or a state, or a popular place to vacation. It was his past, his childhood specifically-when everything was perfect. He hadn't been on that island since he was a 16 year old boy, being forced to leave his home by his grieving father, a new widower at the time. He did not even return to attend his father's funeral over a decade later. Even now, he could feel the regret of not being there. He just...he couldn't.

Steve McGarrett could handle a lot of things (murderers, kidnappers, radicals, crashing aircrafts, armored tanks), but Hawaii was something he could never seem to conquer. He never admitted that to anyone but himself. Even his little sister, who had recently moved back there for reasons still unknown to Steve, didn't know of his secret...fear? He didn't think it was a fear, but...

Lt. Commander McGarrett notably shook his head, glancing to the round window perched next to his shoulder. Peering out, he observed the wrinkled blanket of ocean miles below the airplane he now resided in. The fact that he was getting closer and closer to his childhood home was making him a little anxious, and he gulped as if to confirm the fact, but the large body of water calmed him.

Really, his love of the water was the only part of him that survived after his mother's death...

So, Steve continued to stare at the water, and began to go over his assignment as an extra mean of distraction.

He was going to be the bodyguard of the Japanese Ambassador for a month because the Ambassador, as the other SEALs had put it, had become neurotic and paranoid. A few "pranks" (again, the SEALs' wording) had really spooked Ambassador James Sato, enough to request temporary recruitments of SEALs and marines for the next four weeks. The Ambassador believed he was being targeted because of his current work in Japan. Apparently, an American woman had been raped in the foreign country, and the Ambassador, as well as Japanese officials, were trying to handle the "issue" (the Ambassador's wording) quietly. Personally, Steve didn't think anyone would assassinate Ambassador Sato for any of that. While people have killed with less motive, there was just something about the whole thing that made Steve believe that the Ambassador was not a target of an assassination; not presently, anyway. A target for a few elaborate pranks, on the other hand...

Nevertheless, Steve had agreed to do a job, and he intended to do so seriously. If there were people after Ambassador Sato, Steve would be prepared for them, and stop them.

"You okay, McGarrett? You look a little somber."

Steve smiled and looked over at Jeff Weston, one of the two other SEALs that had also agreed to this job. The other SEAL, Sam Smith, was sound asleep on the other side of Jeff.

"Just going over the job." Steve assured.

"We're not going to be there for another three hours," Jeff argued, a knowing smile bringing out his dimples.

Steve snorted silently.

"Can never be too careful."

"You seem to defy that very statement," Jeff joked, playfully shoving Steve with his beefy arm. Steve chuckled emptily, not really listening as he turned back to face his colleague's pointed look, "You need to relax. Over-thinking isn't good for a job...if you can even call this a job."

"If you're against this, then why'd you take it?" McGarrett questioned, glad to get the spotlight off of him.

"Need the money," Jeff admitted, almost shamefully, "That's the only reason for taking a job like this."

To that, Steve said nothing. He only knew Jeff as a SEAL, beyond that, the two weren't very close. Steve felt that way about all the SEALs. He was willing to put his life in their hands, as was required, and nothing more.

Nevertheless, he had known about Jeff's problems with the IRS. He didn't know the details, but he knew enough (most of it, admittedly, rumor-that his ex-wife sold him out on some money-scamming scheme, etc., etc. People kept away from Jeff nowadays, even though there was no evidence to prove any of the rumors true. Even Sam, who had recently downed four Gatorades, chose to painfully feign sleep rather than go to the restroom just to prevent Jeff from speaking to him.

"Why'd you take the job, McGarrett?" Jeff questioned, suspicious of the silence that was given to him.

Steve shrugged, glancing back out the window.

"Same reason." he lied.