Author's Note: Coldplay's "The Scientist" inspired me to write this Chin-Ho/OC piece that I've had bouncing around my head for awhile, but many more songs will be used throughout this fic. As far as spoilers go, no major ones for this season exist just like Chin-Ho's ex-girlfriend, now wife Malia Waincroft doesn't exist.

I couldn't find a specific date for when Chin left HPD so that's made up, if you know the correct date, I'll go back and change it.

Just a little FYI, I modeled my OC after the actress Evangeline Lily who played the character Kate Austen on the hit ABC show Lost that ran from 2004-2010.

I have to thank my Bestie and personal cheerleader Ayshen who beta'd this fic for me and for just being amazing in general. Without her, this would not exist.

And of course reviews are greatly appreciated, please and thank you!

Title: Back To The Start

Summary: A high profile case takes U.S. Marshall Peyton Keller back to where her career started; Honolulu, Hawaii and to her ex-partner Chin-Ho Kelly. Chin-Ho/OC with some Steve/Kono going on in the background.

Rating: T overall, but will venture to M territory. I will place notes the beginning of the specific chapters when that happens.

Prologue: The Hardest Part

September 2005

(I could feel it go down

Bittersweet, I could taste in my mouth

Silver lining the cloud

Oh and I

Wish that I could work it out)

"The Hardest Part" - by Coldplay

Peyton hears the whispers cease the moment she steps into the bull pen at Honolulu PD. All the eyes in the room are suddenly on her, but she doesn't blink, she doesn't flinch, she just strides to her desk with her head held high and chin jutted out defiantly. It doesn't matter what any of them think about her partner; she knows the truth.

Chin-Ho Kelly isn't dirty and he didn't steal the 10 million dollars that's suddenly missing from the PD's asset forfeiture vault.

If anything, someone – and they could be in this room right now, she reminds herself, eyes darting in every direction – set him up to take the fall, and she'll be damned if she's going to stand by and let that happen.

Chin is the best man she's ever known, and the only one she's ever been able to trust. And that's saying something because she doesn't trust as easily as most people. No, she's been burned too many times to be so reckless with whom she puts her faith in.

But her partner; he's another story.

From the day she set foot on the flawless white sand of Honolulu – Hawaii's capital – after transferring from her hometown of San Francisco, he was there. His presence – calm and with a gentle gleam in his deep eyes – soothing the cracks inside of her that she thought would never heal. He's had her back from day one, no questions asked, and she returned the favor in kind, and she sure as hell wasn't abandoning him now; not when he needed her the most.

"Peyton." Her eyes can't help but flutter from hearing her name fall off his lips in that warm, low tone of his. It's like the crystalline waves from the Pacific are physically washing over her skin.

Turning her head, she meets the familiar pools of his onyx eyes, her stomach tumbling like always and her heart racing too fast because he's just her partner, isn't he? A tiny voice – one she tries so hard to ignore on a daily basis – tells her he's more, he's always been more and will always be, but she stuffs it down because her fantasies aren't important right now.

His career, his livelihood, everything he's ever worked for and yeah, their partnership too (because she can't forget about that), is hanging in the balance, and that's what's important. What's not important is noticing how the grey henley he's wearing clings to the definition of his chest and arms. Yeah, that's definitely not important.

Cursing herself, she breathes in deeply and says, "Yeah?"

Jerking his head toward the bull pen's door, his voice is stiff, "Come on," just like his lithe but still strong frame, and her heart beings to pound violently in her chest, her mind whirling with the possibilities of just what he could say.

One of the thing's that's evident about Hawaii as soon as you approach the airport's landing strip, is that you're never far from the beach. Even the PD is close to the inviting, flawless white sand and crystalline waters of the Pacific. A fresh breeze blows by whipping the unruly strands of her thick chestnut hair that have escaped her ponytail and she's treated to the warm sounds of his heartily laughter as tiny tingles rush over her skin.

"You got a license for that hair, Partner?" He jokes, eyes twinkling like jewels.

Her anxiety lessens with his joke, her nerves calming, but she should know better. She knows not to let her guard down so easy, to not just dismiss her feelings, her instincts. Because when she turns to look into his eyes again, they're not twinkling; it's like a fog has settled over them, their color now dull instead of vibrant and they're haunted and distant.

"No." She practically spits out the word and she can feel her face contorting like she's swallowed something bitter.

"Peyton..." He starts, but she cuts him off, shaking her head sharply. "No." She repeats forcefully. "You can't resign."

"I don't have a choice." His voice is heavy, defeated and an ache starts developing in the pit of her stomach. "It's either resign or go through the rigors of an IA investigation, and I can't do that. You know those things don't just go away – even if you are proved innocent – they stick on you, like black spots on your permanent record from school."

The joke he makes is weak; just like his laughter, and the ache in the pit of her stomach is only growing, and so is the threat of tears spilling from her eyes. But instead of crying, she gets angry because how could he just quit being her partner? How could he stand there and tell her, he can't go through the rigors of an IA investigation? What kind of bull shit is that? Doesn't he know she'll have his back through it all? That she doesn't give a damn about IA or the other detectives at HPD or the rumors or anything, but him?

"You know I don't care, right? You know that IA can ask me anything they damn well please, but in the end I'll have your back? You know that, don't you?" She hates the tremble she can hear in her voice, but despite the anger bubbling inside of her, there's also fear.

Fear that he is going to walk away, that they won't be partners anymore, that she'll never see him, smell him, hear him again, and it's gripping her so tight she feels like she can't breathe.

The strong firmness of his hand cups her cheek, and her heart is instantly lodged in her throat. Her vision is blurry behind tears she won't let fall. His body is close enough that she can feel the heat radiating from it, and all she wants to do is give into the shakiness of her legs and fall, but she doesn't.

Instead, she jerks away from him and when he tries to reach for her, she swats his hands away. She shakes her head when he takes a step toward her, holding out her hands like a buffer between them, silently telling him "don't come closer, stay where you are," but all she wants him to do is come closer and to not stay where he is. She needs him close because even though he's the one tearing her world apart, he's the only one who can put it back together.

This time she doesn't fight his hands, she lets their firmness mold to the curves of her hips and she lets him pull her against his body. She doubts anyone else in HPD would let their partner do this, but they've never been just partners. There's always been something more; bubbling, simmering, lingering. His breath is warm and soft against her ear, her eyes fluttering and for a brief moment she lets herself think about how if they weren't partners anymore, they could do this – stare at the ocean with his hands on her hips, her body pressed against his, his breath not warm and soft, but hot and heady as he whispers naughty things into her ear – but as badly as she wants that (and oh, does she want that), she'd give it all up to hear him call her, "Partner."

Because there's no one else she can trust to have her back. No one else who knows her as well, who trusts her as explicitly as he does, who sees through all her walls, who can talk her down from the ledge. No one but him.

"If I let the IA investigation run its course," He's standing in front of her now, eyes still haunted and distant, the ache in her stomach now a chasm that's only growing. "They'll question you about every case you've handled since you came to HPD and became my partner, and you don't deserve to go through that. Not when you had nothing to do with this. You're a great cop, and your standing shouldn't be compromised just cause you had the bad luck of getting partnered with me."

"I'm getting to the bottom of this." She says like she hadn't heard a word he said. "You may have given up on yourself, Chin, but I'm never giving up on you. I don't care if I become the department pariah, I don't care if IA is all over my ass, you're not going down for this. Do you hear me?" Her ocher eyes are narrowed and blazing with determination, a look that sends his blood singing with heat.

"Stand down." He orders, his own eyes narrowing. "This isn't your fight."

"This isn't your fight?" She repeats, tone rising in anger. "Of course this is my fight! You're my partner! And whatever happens to you, happens to me! I've got your back just like you have mine, no matter what goes down, and no lame IA investigation is going to change that. I told you, I'm getting to the bottom of this, and when I do, you'll be kissing my feet and praising me like I'm the greatest thing to happen to law enforcement since the Miranda rights."

He shouldn't be thinking about how gorgeous she looks with the deep purples, reds, oranges and yellows of the Hawaiian sunset mingling behind her. He should be thinking he's one damn lucky son of a bitch to have a partner like her. But if he's honest and he prides himself on being an honest man, he would admit that from the moment she stepped off that plane three years ago, she was never just his partner.

He holds her blazing ocher gaze, his stoic mask never slipping no matter how much he wants it to, and he cracks a weak smile saying, "You gotta let this go, Peyton."

He knows she'll argue, that she'll fight him tooth and nail (it's one of the things he likes about her as a partner and as a person), but he hopes, in vain, she'll listen to him. Because the only thing that's worse than losing his own badge would be if she lost hers too, and he can't let that happen. He won't let that happen.

"I'm not letting this go." Are the last words she says to him.

The next day, she's called in to talk to IA and tells them they can kiss her ass. Two days later, she puts in her two weeks notice; telling the Chief she's taking a position in the FBI's field office in Allentown, Pennsylvania that's an off-set of the US Marshall's service.