Thank you all for reading this. It was only intended to be a oneshot, but your initial comments made me rethink that and give you this extented version. I hope you enjoy the last chapter.

Part X

It's been a couple of weeks since the whole ordeal and our last case was particularly draining. I can tell we all need a break and I'm pretty sure I know how we will all be spending it. Kono will go surfing. Chin will go for a long ride on his bike. And I'll be looking a graffiti on rocks with the recently cast-free McGarrett.

I haven't told him that I actually want to go, but I think he figures that out when I'm the one who suggests it.

There are a few reasons. One: exhaustion is a great stress reliever. I mean, I slept like a rock after the last time up there. Two: I want to get rid of the negative associations too. Three: he needs this. I think it's best for our collective mental health.

It sort of disturbs me that I've gotten this close to him, but then I suppose it's a good thing. It gives me great motivation to keep him alive, which he needs, because he has no motivation to do it himself apparently.

It's a hot day, which is just my luck. Contrary to popular belief, I do own a pair of shorts. And since this is hiking, not work, I have no obligation to look professional.

Steve still manages to make a snide comment about it.

"Aren't you afraid you'll burst into flames or something?" he asks as we stand at the foot of the trail.

"From the heat?" I say. "Yeah."

"Don't you have heat in Jersey?"

"Yeah. In the summer."

"It's almost summer."

"In the Southern Hemisphere."

He smirks and puts on his backpack. I feel like he's letting me have the last word, but actually contradicting me in his head. Because it actually is almost summer and Hawaii is supposed to be hot in April.

He doesn't say a word, but starts up the trail, still wearing that goofy smile. And I'm not going to take that away from him.

He stops again at the same place as the first time we made this trip. He doesn't talk like last time, but just stares at the view, as if trying to memorize it.

I remember how he told me to stop talking. This time, I don't start. It is a beautiful view and the hard work it took to get here makes it that much better. He starts walking again, slowly and I follow. It's not like we're in a hurry anyway.

When we get to the petroglyphs, he tells me what the rest of them mean. I can imagine him here with his dad, hearing the same story, who knows how many times. And I can see this happening again and again until I know what all the pictures mean. And maybe if Grace ever wanted to come up here I would bring her and tell her about the turtle and all his little friends.

I'm not saying McGarrett was right. Okay, maybe I am.

Finally, he speaks again. "This was a good idea."

"Yeah. I have a few of those," I say.

"We should do this again."

"Yeah."

Maybe he's a little surprised at how readily I agree with him. He's quiet for a second. Then he says,

"Mahalo, brah."

I know what it means, but I pretend not to. Not that he's really fooled.

We head back down the mountain, still not talking much. Talking is for cars and baseball games, I've learned.

We go back to his place and watch the Yankees game and he doesn't pretend to "accidentally" cheer for the wrong team.

After that, we go hiking a lot after work. I loose count of how many times we go up there. Every time it's the same. We climb the mountain and stop to appreciate the view.

The silence is... well, it just is.