I totally didn't intend for this one to be angsty. Also unbeta'd, because I'm a scatterbrain and didn't run it by Phoebe. XP
Violet
Chin was a man who had grown used to shattered dreams. That may have been a depressing view, but it was true. His ingrained calm and amiable nature had been put into the forge more than he wanted to count. They said what didn't kill you made you stronger. Often, he felt more broken. Chips of himself breaking off.
He hadn't had a bad childhood. There were the usual struggles that came with a big family and having several cop relatives. The real trouble started with the whole asset forfeiture locker debacle. That was the first heavy hit.
Him choosing to let Malia go was another crack in the soul.
Sitting there at Pearl, holding his broken pieces in his hands, he wallowed a bit. He was man enough to admit that. Between his fellow officers and his family ostracizing him, the downward turn of his career, and the separation from Malia, he just didn't have the energy or the hope to try to even put the pieces back together.
Until Steve McGarrett walked in.
And Danny Williams with his daughter Grace followed.
And then even he and Kono grew closer on the taskforce.
A small, serene smile settled on his face. He'd never expected to have an ohana like that.
With a certain deftness, he moved the brush from the paper plate of paint back to the wall without dripping a drop. A flower bloomed from beneath the bristles. He was no artist, but small flowers with simple petals was something he could handle.
It was the color, though. Violet. Malia's favorite color.
His brush halted.
The worst hit, the one that had nearly shattered him beyond repair, had been her death. Images of her in her pristine wedding dress were replaced by her blood soaked chest. Her warm smile no longer living, slack and lifeless. The smiles on his best men's faces replaced by their solemn, supporting hands out there in the water as he spread her ashes.
"You okay, Uncle Chin?"
He swallowed and looked over at Grace. She was sat cross legged on the floor of her recently painted bedroom. Her brush dripped a blob of a richer purple onto the plastic sheet her father had had the foresight to lay down.
He and Malia had planned on having a family. They both wanted kids. She would've been a great mother. Fatherhood scared him, but it was a challenge he had been read and willing to tackle. Excited to tackle, even.
That dream lay in fragments.
Grace scooched across the floor towards him, bumping into his arm as she checked out his work on his section of flowers.
"Yours look way better than mine," she said. "Can you teach me how to paint flowers like those?"
"Of course, little sista," he said.
Taking her small hand in his, he guided her in painting the delicate petals. Dab of paint. Light hand, then push down. The bristles spread the color smoothly. Then taper off. Repeat. Paint. Light, hard, light. Repeat. They laughed as one petal came out far shorter than the others.
"It's a stumpy petal," Grace giggled. Warm, bright, kind, genuine.
"Makes the flower look a little funny," he said.
She shook her head. "It makes it unique."
And with that she turned and hugged him. A good, solid hug like her father gave.
She returned to her spot to continue painting the flower garden she was working on, leaving him with a bittersweet taste.
He may have been broken many times, but he had people to help him put back the pieces now. He would never be the same man he was decades ago. No, not after all his shattered dreams. With new hands helping fit the pieces back together, helping hold them in place, he could continue on. Cherish the memories of his dreams, and look for new ones.
Kono had called him a kintsugi vase before. Shattered, yes. But put back together with gold. Someone worth keeping. He was loved, no matter how many cracks had to be filled in. No matter how many dreams shattered.
And that was enough for him.
Thanks for reading! The final chapter Rainbow will either go up Thursday or Friday.
