That's how legends are made
At least that's what they say
We say goodbye
But never let go
Her father was one of those people you just didn't talk to. He was kind, and comforting, but with any social problems, any time she needed a listening ear, she would go to her uncle. Her uncle would hug her, and take her out for shave ice. He'd let her surf, and if she was upset, she would cry hear tears out there on the water, where no one could see them. When she was done, he'd sit with her, and she would pour her heart out to him. He was the most important person in her life. Sometimes her friends laughed when she mentioned her uncle being her best friend. She would smile softly at them, as if she had an inside joke they didn't know. His kindness and courage, his goodwill and strength rubbed off on her, and she found herself laughing at cruel words, not letting them hurt too much. But anytime she needed a listening ear, he would be there. As she grew, she depended on him almost as much as she depended on breathing itself. He was her constant, and her strength. As she grew older, her uncle was not around as much, but she knew he was on the other end on a phone call, and would stop his life for a few moments to just listen. And she knew she would be devastated if he ever left her.
Now, years later, she's sitting next to his hospital bed. Disbelief courses through her. Cancer. Too late to operate, just enough time to make him comfortable. He's not comfortable. Those eyes that could stare at her and make her spill her secrets, and the same weathered face that brightened with a smile so many times before was fading before her eyes. Her aunt, his husband, had died a few years ago. She knew he would be happy to see her again. She clutched his hand.
Harsh breaths.
Brown eyes holding his. They were welling with tears.
No. Don't cry.
Acceptance shone in his eyes.
No. Don't go.
A life, slipping away. She rocked back on her feet, away from the body. Away from him. Her brown eyes released one tear, creating a wet line down her cheek. Anger jolted through her because of her reaction. Her body straightened. She stood. Her mother enfolded the girl in her arms.
"Don't forget, love," her mother whispered. "He will always be there for you."
"How? He's dead." She whispered, her voice harsh. How could her mother think that the one person in the world who was always there to listen, to laugh, to cry with her would be able to comfort her now?
"He wouldn't want you to cry, Kono."
"He's dead. You don't know what he would have wanted." Kono restrained the tears. They were shameful. Only he had seen her cry shamelessly.
"His spirit lives on, Kono. Don't insult his memory." The older woman advised, warningly. She didn't want Kono to ignore the important lessons taught.
Years passed. She grew. She held back emotions much better than before. Joining 5-0 let her see the eons of time other police officers had to protect themselves from emotion.
Chin was always calm, he never got truly angry. In front of others, that is. Chin was controlled, and patient. He taught her to hold herself with dignity. He taught her that things didn't always work out, but he would always be there for her, and that was enough to stop the tears in front of the governor. He taught her that being upset before Steve or Danny was all right, because everyone had bad days.
Danny was emotional. His arms flailed, his voice rose and fell like waves on the ocean. He did not hold back. Incredulity, fear, anger, joy, Danny conveyed his feelings. At times, he would go quiet, and Steve would look at him strangely, but say nothing. No one besides the emotionally challenged boss seemed to truly understand the Jersey native. From him, Kono learned to pick and choose. Choose one that was never going to let you down, and allow only them to understand the inner workings of your soul. From him, Kono learned that emotions were ok, that showing them was not a sign of weakness. Kono learned that she could be an enigma, a mystery by knowing when to show emotions, and when to not. From him, Kono learned that strength was to have emotions, and to learn to keep them to yourself only when it was necessary.
Steve was a soldier. A sailor. He was a killing machine. Bred to kill at the command of his country, emotion was foreign to him. But he tried. For Steve, emotion was celebrated. When his broken, fractured life made a little more sense because Danny explained in no uncertain terms that no, most people didn't appreciate AK-47's quite as much him, he listened. Because it was how Steve taught himself. He didn't stay in the country when others were learning how to be polite and civilized. He was fighting for it when people assumed social etiquette was taught to everyone. From Steve, Kono learned to be emotionless. But then she also learned to not, because to become emotionless was to have too much emotion trapped inside, a trigger waiting to let it out. Steve taught her that being able to hide was a dark, confusing place, one she realized she would never want to be. And she felt pity for him, and guilt that she was short tempered with his lack of social protocol. With his bluntness. She felt guilt when she laughed at his actions, an action no one else would do, because they weren't in Afghanistan, willing to die for them.
The three most emotionally confused men on the island, all cops, accustomed to violence, taught her something valuable. A Navy SEAL, whose job was spent becoming familiar with weaponry, one who did not always follow the speed society had progressed while he was gone. A loud, Jersey cop who would mysteriously go quiet, let only one other know why, and share his thoughts because it was ok to be open. From one shunned by his family, in trying to protect them, and retreating behind defensive emotional walls, not letting anymore hate reach him.
Kono learned to open up, and appreciate that she could feel. She learned to hold back, and be that eye of a hurricane, the calm in a storm. She learned to be the storm, because sometimes it was the only way to be herself.
And knowing this, she knelt by his gravestone. She couldn't come before. Acknowledging his death meant she would cry. She would not cry, because he had taught her to be strong. But now, she thinks she can accept it. And accepting it makes it only too real. She thought of those she had saved, and those she had lost. She laid a flower on his grave.
"I'll miss you, Uncle," she whispered to her childhood friend. And she wept.
TBC