The North Shore slept under a quilt of stars and salt. Midnight wind rolled off the Pacific, rustling palms and carrying the faint thump of waves breaking at Pipeline. In a tiny tin-roofed workshop tucked behind a line of ironwood trees, fluorescent lights hummed over surfboards in every stage of birth: raw foam blanks, half-glassed shells, polished beauties ready for competition.
Keoni "Kea" Mahoe, fifty, tanned and wiry from decades of shaping boards, leaned over one of his newest commissions. He wore dust-coated shorts and a faded T-shirt from the first Triple Crown he'd ever worked. His planer whined softly as he shaved a perfect rail. Resin and cedar filled the air.
This board was special: a new high-performance gun ordered by a flashy up-and-coming surfer sponsored by a company Kea didn't know well — "Pacific Edge Logistics." Money had been good, too good. But surf culture thrived on big promises, and Kea had learned not to ask too many questions.
Still, something about the weight felt wrong.
He set the planer down, wiped sweat from his brow, and tapped the blank with his knuckles. Hollow, but heavier than it should be. He frowned, flipped it, ran hands along the stringer. At the tail an unfamiliar seam caught his thumb — not fiberglass, but metal under a thin skin of resin.
Kea's gut clenched. "What the hell…"
He grabbed a utility knife, scored the seam, and peeled a strip of fiberglass. Beneath, dull steel glinted — a hidden hatch. Inside, plastic-wrapped shapes: long, unmistakable. Rifle stocks. Military style.
Kea stumbled back, heart hammering. Rifles. In a surfboard. He glanced toward the door, then at his phone. Hands shaking, he started to dial 911 — then stopped. No, cops might not understand. Maybe call Kono; she'd know what to do. He hadn't talked to her in years, not since she'd joined HPD and left the waves, but—
The shop door creaked.
Kea froze.
Two men stepped inside: one local, broad-shouldered, tattoos curling down his arms; the other tall, pale, wearing a black ballcap low over his face. Both carried the relaxed menace of men used to trouble.
"Kea Mahoe," the tattooed one said softly. "Heard you work late."
Kea's phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor. "Shop's closed, boys. Come back tomorrow."
"Wish we could." The pale man stepped closer, eyes cold. "But you saw something you weren't supposed to."
"I didn't see anything," Kea blurted.
The tattooed man smiled almost sadly. "That's the problem."
He moved fast. Kea spun, trying to run, but the pale man caught him, slammed him against the shaping table. Kea fought — years of paddling and sanding had left him strong — but not strong enough.
A single suppressed shot cracked, soft but final. Kea went limp.
The tattooed man cursed under his breath. "Didn't want it messy."
"Too late," the other said flatly, already pulling gloves. Together they staged the scene: tipped the planer, scattered tools, doused the blood with resin. To an untrained eye it would look like an accident — shop fall, maybe an equipment misfire.
Before they left, the pale man pried the board open wider, checked the rifles inside. "Still good. Get the rest shipped before morning. Competition starts in two days."
They vanished into the night, leaving the workshop quiet but wrong — and Kea Mahoe dead on the floor.
Morning Tide
Dawn cracked pink and gold over Haleʻiwa. Surfers drove by the closed shop, oblivious, boards strapped to trucks. A neighbor out for a jog spotted the open door and called HPD.
By mid-morning, yellow tape fluttered in the breeze. A single uniform cop stood bored outside while crime scene techs took photos. The news would call it a tragic shop accident. Just another old shaper who worked too late.
But whispers traveled fast along the North Shore: Kea's gone.
And one whisper reached a number Kono Kalākaua hadn't used in years — a text from a fellow surfer: "Kea dead. HPD says accident. Doesn't feel right."
Kono sat at her small kitchen table staring at the message. Sunlight spilled across unopened IA paperwork. Her badge — still provisional after review — lay beside her coffee mug. She felt a gut punch: Kea had been one of the first to shape her boards when she was a teen prodigy.
She didn't know why, but she found herself calling HQ before she'd even dressed.
HQ Alert
At Five-0 HQ, the big screen glowed with news feeds when Kono walked in. Steve looked up, surprised but pleased. "You're early."
"Old friend died last night," she said flatly, tossing the case file HPD had posted. "They're calling it an accident. It's not."
Danny, perched on a desk, raised brows. "You sure?"
"Positive," Kono said. "Kea Mahoe was careful — legend on the North Shore. He doesn't 'trip' into a planer."
Steve's eyes sharpened. "Show me."
She pulled up photos from a contact: the shop floor, resin puddles, odd bullet-shaped dent in a wall. "That's no accident."
Steve nodded. "We'll take it."
Danny groaned. "Of course. Because surfers getting murdered is totally our jurisdiction."
"Arms smuggling might be," Steve said quietly, zooming on the strange seam visible in one unfinished board. "See that?"
Chin entered with coffee, took one look, and frowned. "Hidden compartment. Could be anything inside."
"HPD think it's a fall," Kono muttered.
"Then we'll check for ourselves," Steve decided.
Beau had been silent until now, leaning against a pillar with Zeus at heel, listening. "What's a board shaper?" he asked.
Everyone turned. Danny smirked. "Cowboy doesn't surf."
Beau shrugged. "Never had ocean big enough."
"Kea shaped boards — builds them," Kono explained, patience threaded with sadness. "If someone used him to smuggle…"
"…they'll need the next shipment," Steve finished. "Competition's in two days. Perfect cover."
Beau nodded once. "We'll find them."
Zeus lifted his head, sensing the shift — case mode.
Steve glanced at Kono. "You up for going back into that world?"
She hesitated only a second. "Yeah."
Steve's gaze softened. "You don't have to prove anything."
"I'm not," she said quietly. "But Kea deserves better than an accident report."
Beau watched the exchange, saying nothing but filing it away. He didn't know surfing, but he knew what it was to honor a fallen mentor.
The big screen at Five-0 HQ glowed with a satellite view of Oʻahu's North Shore. Waves rolled in frozen blues and whites, dotted with tiny surfers. Steve stood at the table, hands braced, eyes intent. Danny leaned against a pillar with his usual cup of coffee and an expression somewhere between skeptical and concerned. Chin tapped quietly on a laptop, pulling up local intel. Kono sat stiff-shouldered but focused, the folder on Kea Mahoe open in front of her.
Beau stayed a little back from the table, broad shoulders and Stetson making him look even more the outsider. Zeus lay at his feet, ears flicking at every new voice.
"Alright," Steve began, voice calm but clipped. "HPD's ruling Kea Mahoe's death an accident. We're not buying it. Kono knew him; says he was careful. I trust that."
Kono swallowed, nodded. "Kea taught half the North Shore how to ride. He shaped my first real board. He didn't 'trip' into a planer."
Steve hit a key. A photo of the hollowed board appeared. "This was on his rack. Seam doesn't belong — could hide anything."
Chin added, "Competition starts tomorrow. New sponsor — Pacific Edge Logistics — came out of nowhere. No surf track record, but they're backing three pro riders and providing equipment shipping."
Danny raised a brow. "Pacific Edge? That screams shell company."
Steve nodded. "Arms smuggling groups have used shipping covers before. Surfboards could move weapons unnoticed."
Beau finally spoke. "Smart. Boards are hollow, easy to modify, and no one at customs questions a big surf shipment to Hawaiʻi."
Kono glanced at him, surprised but appreciative of the quick analysis.
Steve turned to her. "You still know people up there?"
Kono hesitated, then nodded. "Some. Haven't been part of that scene since HPD… and IA didn't help my rep. But I can get in."
"You'll go in quiet," Steve said. "See what you can pick up, especially about Pacific Edge. Beau, you'll go with her. Eyes, security, and Zeus for sweeps."
Danny smirked. "Cowboy in the surf world. This I gotta see."
Beau didn't flinch. "I'll manage."
"Chin," Steve continued, "dig financials on Pacific Edge, trace import/export. Danny and I will cover the docks in case shipments are still moving."
Danny groaned. "Great, docks. My favorite."
Steve ignored him and looked at Kono again. "You sure you're up for this? No badge heroics, just feel it out."
Kono's jaw set. "Kea deserves more than an accident file."
Steve studied her a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Gear up."
Prepping the Ride
In the HQ garage Beau and Kono geared up for the drive north. Kono pulled on jeans and a light hoodie, swapping her badge for a low-key necklace. She moved like muscle memory — slipping back into the surf girl she used to be, but more guarded now.
Beau checked Zeus's tactical vest and a portable detection kit — lightweight, discreet enough for beach crowds. His Stetson hung on a hook; today he wore a plain ball cap, trying not to stick out too much. Still, boots and quiet Texan aura weren't exactly local.
"You know anything about surfing?" Kono asked while loading her duffel with casual clothes.
"Only that water comes in waves," Beau deadpanned.
That earned a small laugh from her — first real one of the morning. "You'll fit right in."
"Doubt it," Beau said, but he didn't seem bothered. "You lead, I'll watch your six."
Something softened in her eyes, just for a moment. "Thanks."
He nodded once. No big speech — just solid.
On the Road
The Bronco rumbled out of Honolulu and up the Kamehameha Highway, windows down to salt wind and plumeria scent. Zeus rode happily in the back, head out, tongue lolling. Kono sat shotgun, hair loose for once.
She glanced sideways after a few miles. "You ever think you'd end up here?"
"Hawaiʻi?" Beau asked.
"Yeah. Working with a team like this."
He shook his head. "Figured I'd be back on the ranch by now. Dad's still working it."
"You miss it?"
He considered. "Miss the quiet. Miss knowing where I fit. Teams were family, but… war ends, you're kind of drifting."
Kono looked out the window at the rolling green. "Yeah. Know that feeling."
"You found Five-0."
"Thought I did," she said softly. "IA made me wonder."
Beau glanced at her, steady and calm. "You still here."
She didn't answer, but a tiny bit of the tightness in her shoulders eased.
North Shore Arrival
The North Shore was alive with pre-competition energy: banners, food trucks, wax stands, throngs of sun-bleached surfers and tourists. Music drifted from speakers near the beach park. Surfboards lined racks like bright totems.
Kono navigated it with instinct — old friends waving, some with wary curiosity, some genuine smiles. A few whispered, "HPD girl's back." Others just nodded. Her chin stayed high.
Beau stayed a step behind, watchful but not intrusive, Zeus padding close at heel. The dog drew fascinated looks; surfers knelt to pet him until Beau gave a quiet "Nein," and Zeus politely ignored them.
A tall Hawaiian man with salt-and-pepper hair approached, grinning wide. "Kono Kalākaua! Thought we lost you to the cops."
"Hey, Maka," Kono said, smiling despite herself. "Still shaping?"
"Still trying." His grin faltered. "Heard about Kea. Shame."
"Yeah," she said quietly. "We're looking into it."
Maka glanced at Beau and Zeus. "Your new… partner?"
"Teammate," Kono said. "Beau Walker."
Maka offered a quick handshake; Beau returned it with quiet respect. Maka eyed Zeus warily but impressed. "Mean-looking dog."
"Only to bad guys," Beau said.
Maka chuckled and leaned closer to Kono. "Lot of new faces this year. Pacific Edge's tent's the big blue one. Flashy guys. Don't like the vibe."
Kono's eyes narrowed. "Thanks."
First Impressions
They wandered the competition grounds, Beau quietly scanning while Kono slipped into easy conversation with surfers and shapers. She was good at this: warm but guarded, respected even after time away.
Beau noticed Pacific Edge's setup immediately — too corporate, too clean. Large crates stacked behind the tent, guarded by two men pretending to be crew. One had the hard watchful stance of security, not surf staff.
Zeus gave a low chuff. Beau knelt, murmured a soft "Such," and let the dog sniff the air. Zeus's ears pricked, body alert. Beau noted it quietly.
Kono rejoined him. "They're definitely outsiders. Money guys. Riders don't know them."
"Zeus smells something off," Beau murmured. "Could be gun oil."
Her eyes sharpened. "Serious?"
"Serious enough."
She looked toward the tent, then back at him. "Play it cool. Don't spook them."
Beau gave a tiny nod — calm and controlled.
For a moment their eyes met — partners in a world neither fully owned: hers once bright and now suspicious; his brand new but razor sharp. A flicker of understanding passed between them.
Back at HQ (Cutaway)
Meanwhile at HQ, Chin dug through Pacific Edge's corporate filings. "Shell corp," he told Steve and Danny over speaker. "Registered in the Caymans, fronts a Hong Kong shipping line. No surf history."
Danny muttered, "Called it."
Steve frowned at the screen. "Tell Kono and Walker to stay sharp. We may be looking at something bigger than one shipment."
By late morning the sun beat down hard enough that the sand shimmered. Kono led Beau and Zeus along the competition's main boardwalk, weaving through tents selling wax, fins, and brightly printed rash guards. She moved with an old familiarity — a pro among weekend riders — but Beau could feel the eyes on her: some curious, some wary, some whispering about Internal Affairs.
"They're staring," he said quietly.
She glanced back with a wry smile. "They always stare. Used to be because I was winning heats. Now it's because I'm the cop who left."
"You still belong," he said simply.
Her smile flickered into something more genuine. "Thanks, cowboy."
Zeus padded easily beside them, vest marked K-9. Surfers gave him a wide berth after one deep bark at a skateboarder who got too close. Beau just nodded, calm hand on the harness.
Old Friends & Cold Shoulders
They stopped first at Maka's shaping booth. Maka was sanding a longboard, resin dust catching the light.
"Kono," he greeted warmly, then looked at Beau. "Cowboy security?"
"Something like that," Beau said with a small smile.
Maka leaned closer to Kono. "Careful with Pacific Edge. They bought a lot of sponsorship space. Money smells wrong."
"Any idea what they're moving?" she asked.
Maka shook his head. "Only whispers. Big crates. Not boards."
Before they could dig deeper, a tall blonde surfer — bronzed, cocky — strolled up with two others. Derek Tanaka, one of Kono's old rivals.
"Well, well. Kalākaua's back," Derek said loudly. "HPD not enough drama for you?"
Kono's jaw tightened. "Nice to see you too, Derek."
Derek's gaze slid to Beau and lingered on the badge clipped to his belt. "You her new babysitter?"
Beau met his eyes without heat. "Teammate."
Derek snorted. "Figures." He glanced at Kono again, smirking. "Careful, coming back here. People don't forget."
Kono said nothing, but Beau stepped half a pace closer — not threatening, just quietly present. Derek seemed to think better of pushing and walked off with his entourage.
Maka muttered, "Ignore him. He's been bitter since you beat him at Pipeline."
Kono exhaled slowly. "Still good at running his mouth."
Beau didn't comment, but his steady support said enough.
First Technical Clues
From Maka's booth they headed to the Pacific Edge tent, careful to blend with the crowd. Beau played the part of low-key security; Kono chatted with a young shaper who'd been hired for overflow work. His name was Kai — wiry, nervous.
"They pay good," Kai whispered when Kono asked about Pacific Edge. "But weird. No one sees inside the shipping containers. We just prep boards. They're heavy though — too heavy."
"Metal inside?" Kono asked casually.
Kai blinked, startled. "You said it, not me."
Beau caught the tremor in the kid's voice. He stepped in, calm and low. "You worried?"
Kai hesitated, then nodded quickly. "I just shape. Don't wanna know more."
"Appreciate the info," Kono said gently. "Stay clear if you can."
Kai vanished fast after that.
Beau murmured, "Kid's scared."
"Yeah," Kono said, gaze dark. "Means something big."
Lunch & Strategy
They found a quiet food truck on the edge of the festival for lunch. Kono ordered poke bowls; Beau opted for grilled fish tacos and unsweet tea.
"You okay?" Beau asked once they sat on the tailgate of a parked truck.
She poked at her food. "Seeing Derek. The whispers. Feels like high school, but with murder."
"You're stronger now," Beau said. "Doesn't matter what they say."
She smirked faintly. "You always this steady?"
"Sometimes it's an act," he admitted with a ghost of a grin.
That pulled a short laugh from her — small but real. "Good act."
He tilted his head. "How's it feel being back in the surf world?"
"Strange. Familiar. Like I remember why I loved it… and why I left." She sighed. "But I'm glad I came. For Kea."
Beau nodded once, quiet respect in his eyes.
Zeus, lying under the table, perked up suddenly, nose twitching toward the Pacific Edge direction. Beau followed his gaze and saw two men unloading crates from a panel van — heavy, not board-shaped.
"Eyes on," he murmured.
Kono turned slightly to look without drawing attention. "Not surf gear."
"Not even close," Beau said. "Could be ammo."
"Let's call Steve."
She tapped her comm quietly while pretending to check her phone.
Team Call
At HQ, Chin answered. "What's up?"
Kono kept her voice low. "Pacific Edge unloading non-board crates. Heavy. Zeus is keyed up."
Steve's voice cut in. "We'll check the dock manifests. Don't engage yet."
Danny: "Please don't start a firefight at a surf contest."
Beau smirked slightly at that but kept his eyes on the van.
Steve: "Stay close, gather intel, no action until backup."
"Copy," Beau said.
The Afternoon Heats
The rest of the afternoon was a strange dance: Kono reconnecting with other competitors, Beau shadowing quietly, Zeus working like a seasoned cop. They stayed near Pacific Edge but didn't draw attention.
At one point, a young grom paddled up to Kono, wide-eyed. "Are you really Kono Kalākaua? My dad says you're the best."
Kono smiled gently. "Tell your dad I said hi."
The kid looked at Beau. "You a cowboy?"
Beau tipped his cap just slightly. "Something like that."
The boy grinned and ran off. Kono shook her head, amused. "You're a hit."
Beau chuckled low. "With ten-year-olds, maybe."
She looked at him, something softer in her eyes now. "You're… good at this. Being here, not trying to take over."
"Not my world," Beau said. "Just here to help."
"Still," she said, voice quieter. "Means a lot."
He met her gaze for a moment — warm, steady — before looking back to the crowd.
A Hint of Trouble
Late in the day, Beau noticed one of the Pacific Edge security men making repeated calls, eyes scanning the beach. He had the bearing of someone who knew he was being watched but couldn't locate the watcher. Beau moved subtly to block his line of sight toward Kono.
Zeus gave a low growl.
"Got him?" Kono asked softly.
"Yeah," Beau murmured. "He's looking."
"Think they made us?"
"Not sure. But they're nervous."
"Good," Kono said with a hint of grit. "Means we're close."
Check-In at HQ (Cutaway)
Back at HQ, Chin pulled up shipping logs. "Pacific Edge brought in four containers labeled 'sporting goods' through Honolulu Harbor. Two cleared customs yesterday."
Steve frowned. "We hit the wrong pier last time. Could be more guns already on island."
Danny groaned. "So we've got a surf contest and a gun show in one."
Steve: "Tell Kono and Beau to hold position. We'll move tonight."
Night Falls
As the sun slid toward the horizon, the surf park turned golden. Music started from a nearby stage, beer tents opened, and the vibe turned party-like.
Kono pulled off her hoodie, revealing a sleek competition suit; she'd been invited into a friendly pre-comp expression session. Beau stayed at the edge with Zeus, scanning.
"You sure you're okay out there?" he asked.
She flashed a grin — the first easy one he'd seen all day. "Watch and learn, cowboy."
She jogged toward the water, board under arm, muscles fluid and strong. Beau watched, unexpectedly impressed — not just by skill but by the way she seemed to reclaim a part of herself with every step.
Zeus whined softly, as if sensing his partner's shift.
"Yeah," Beau murmured, half to the dog. "She's something."
The next morning dawned glassy and windless — perfect surf conditions and a perfect day to disappear guns among boards. Beau didn't see the water; he was already in the Bronco with Chin, Zeus curled in the back, as they rolled into the industrial side of Honolulu Harbor.
"Steve wants eyes on the supply chain," Chin said, scanning a clipboard of port logs. "Pacific Edge brought in four containers. Two cleared customs at Pier 14 yesterday, two are in bonded storage at Pier 22."
Beau drove slow and easy, eyes sweeping every truck and yard. "Bonded means not inspected yet?"
"Right. Usually cleared with paperwork." Chin glanced sideways at him. "You've done port ops before?"
"Plenty. Teams moved a lot of gear this way." Beau's voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "Guns in surfboards… new one for me."
Chin smirked. "Welcome to Hawaiʻi."
Pier 22 – Bonded Storage
They parked a block away from the Pacific Edge warehouse. Nondescript, corrugated steel, a security guard in a folding chair by the gate. No sign of surf culture here — just the smell of diesel and salt.
Beau slipped on sunglasses, checked Zeus's harness. "He's clear on detection," he murmured.
Chin raised a brow. "For guns?"
"Explosives, accelerants, and oil residue," Beau said. "Not perfect, but better than nothing."
They approached casually, flashing badges. The guard straightened fast.
"Five-0," Chin said smoothly. "Routine check on incoming sporting goods shipment."
The guard hesitated but stepped aside after a quick phone call.
Inside the warehouse, rows of shipping containers sat like sleeping beasts. Forklifts beeped somewhere deeper.
Beau crouched and tapped Zeus's vest. "Such."
Zeus dropped his nose to the ground and began working a pattern. Beau moved with him, silent and watchful, while Chin covered with an air of casual authority.
The dog slowed at a blue container marked PAC EDGE SPORTING EQUIP. His body went rigid, tail straight, nose pressed to the seam. A soft whine rumbled.
Beau's brows knit. "He's got something."
Chin glanced at the manifest on his tablet. "Declared as stand-up paddleboards."
"Bet me a steak dinner that's rifles," Beau murmured.
Chin smirked faintly. "Let's find out."
The Seal Is Broken
They asked for the container to be opened. The dock supervisor balked until Chin flashed the Governor's reinstatement order for Five-0.
"Authority of the State of Hawaiʻi," Chin said calmly. "Open it."
With a reluctant shrug, the supervisor waved over a forklift. A heavy clang echoed as the lock snapped and doors swung wide.
Inside: neat stacks of longboard-sized bags, sleek and glossy — but every one far heavier than it should be.
Beau stepped forward, unzipped one carefully. Foam and fiberglass — and beneath it, a cutout cavity lined with rifle cases.
Chin's mouth tightened. "Well, there it is."
Beau photographed everything while Chin called Steve. "We've got positive on rifles inside boards. Pacific Edge is dirty."
Steve's voice crackled back: "Copy. Don't seize yet — we need the live buyers. Stay dark."
Danny: "Of course we do. Let's keep the illegal gun parade going."
Beau zipped the board back up, face calm but eyes cold. "They killed Kea for this."
"Yeah," Chin said quietly. "They'll pay."
Quiet Drive Back
On the way back north, Chin was thoughtful. "You handled that clean."
Beau shrugged. "Done plenty of searches."
"Not what I mean," Chin said. "You didn't spook the crew, didn't tip them we know. Steve's gonna want that."
Beau gave a small nod. "Steve's solid. Worth backing."
Chin glanced at him. "You like this job?"
Beau considered. "Feels… cleaner than some of what I've done. Team's good people."
Chin smiled faintly. "That's why I came back after HPD burned me. Family's family."
Beau's jaw eased slightly. "Good to know."
Competition Grounds – Midday
Back at the surf contest, the vibe was more intense. Bigger crowds, TV cameras, early heats underway. Kono spotted them returning and paddled in, board under arm and face flushed from a good ride.
She jogged up, dripping and smiling despite herself. "How'd it go?"
Beau lifted a brow. "Your boards are full of guns."
Her smile faltered. "Kea…"
"Yeah." His tone softened.
Chin filled her in quietly while they ducked behind a sponsor tent. "We're not moving yet. Steve wants the handoff to buyers. Could be tonight."
Kono glanced toward the Pacific Edge tent. "Those guys are nervous. One of them's been watching me."
"We saw him," Beau said.
"You okay staying in this?" Chin asked gently.
Kono hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I want to finish this."
Beau studied her for a second, then simply said, "We've got your back."
She gave a small, grateful nod.
Checking the Crates
Later, Beau walked Zeus past the Pacific Edge van casually. Zeus sniffed the air again, alert but silent.
One of the guards stepped forward, frowning. "No dogs."
"State police K-9," Beau said evenly, flashing his badge. "Routine safety sweep."
The man looked ready to argue until Kono appeared beside Beau, relaxed but with enough local weight to make him think twice. "Problem?" she asked coolly.
The guard muttered something in Tagalog and stepped back.
"Thanks," Beau said low.
"No problem," Kono replied. Then she grinned faintly. "Guess cowboy's got some bite."
"Dog does," Beau said dryly. She laughed quietly.
Team Update
Steve called over comms. "Good work. Tonight's party at the sponsor house might be the move. We think that's where the buyers will collect."
Danny groaned audibly. "Surf party. Great."
"Be there early," Steve ordered. "No cowboy hats, Walker."
"Copy," Beau said with a smile that Kono caught.
She shook her head. "You really gonna dress normal?"
"I'll try."
"Big step," she teased.
He tipped his cap slightly. "For the mission."
Under the Surface
As the day wound down, Kono stayed near Beau more than she had before — partly cover, partly trust. They talked quietly between heats: about the surf world, about Texas, about nothing and everything.
At one point she said, "I didn't think I'd feel… welcome again. Not after IA."
"You're making yourself welcome," Beau replied.
She glanced at him, eyes softer. "You make it sound easy."
"Not easy," he said. "Just worth it."
She looked away, but he saw the small smile she tried to hide.
Evening Plans
By sunset the plan was clear: Kono would attend the big sponsor house party as a former surf star reconnecting; Beau would shadow as hired security with Zeus. Steve, Danny, and Chin would set up nearby for backup.
Kono eyed Beau's jeans-and-button-down swap. "Not bad," she teased. "Almost beachy."
"High praise," he said dryly.
"Lose the boots though."
He glanced down. "These are my dress boots."
She laughed — a light, unexpected sound — and shook her head. "Come on, cowboy."
For a moment, under the fading sun, the tension between them hummed — unspoken, alive.
Then they got back to work.
By late afternoon the contest site was winding down. Tents flapped in the trade wind as crews packed up boards and cameras. From the edge of the lot Beau watched, sunglasses hiding his eyes, Zeus sprawled at his boots. Beside him, Kono wrung seawater from her hair and tried to look casual, but Beau caught the tension in her shoulders.
"You ride good," he said quietly.
She glanced up, surprised. "Thanks."
"Crowd loved it."
"Felt… weird." She laughed softly, self-deprecating. "Haven't surfed a heat since HPD academy. Thought I'd be rusty."
"You weren't."
That earned a small, grateful smile.
The Plan
Steve, Danny, and Chin arrived just before sunset in an unmarked SUV. Steve climbed out wearing an aloha shirt that somehow still looked tactical. Danny carried a small laptop bag; Chin looked calm as ever.
Steve gathered them behind a vendor tent. "Here's the play. Pacific Edge is hosting a 'VIP welcome' tonight at their rented house near Sunset Beach. We've got a surveillance van two blocks away. Danny and I will be outside covering entrances; Chin runs tech. Kono, you're our in — ex-surf star coming to network. Walker, you're her security detail. Zeus works sniff patrol."
Danny pointed to Beau. "Translation: cowboy plays bodyguard. Try not to look like you're about to raid Fallujah."
Beau said nothing, just adjusted his ballcap.
Steve handed Kono a small comms earbud. "You'll have eyes and ears on us. No hero moves — we just need ID on the buyers."
Kono nodded, pocketing the device. But Beau noticed the tight line of her mouth.
Pre-Mission Nerves
When the others went to prep the van, Beau and Kono lingered by the Bronco. She was toweling off, half-dressed in casual beach clothes over her suit.
"You okay?" Beau asked.
She hesitated, then blew out a breath. "Parties like this used to be my world — sponsors, deals, fake smiles. Then IA happened. Coming back feels… exposed."
Beau leaned on the Bronco, arms crossed. "You know this scene better than anyone in Five-0. They need that. Doesn't matter what whispers say."
"Easy for you," she muttered, then caught herself. "Sorry. Just—"
He shook his head. "I get it. First op back after Intel chewed me up, I felt like an impostor. Only thing that worked was doing the job."
She looked at him, searching. "You really believe I can pull this off?"
He met her gaze, steady and warm. "No one here knows this world better. Yeah, I believe."
Something in her posture eased. She nodded, almost shy. "Thanks, Beau."
"Anytime."
Zeus nosed her hand gently, tail wagging once. That made her laugh — a real one this time — and she scratched his ears.
Disguise and Detail
They changed at the safehouse: Kono into a sleek sundress with beachy jewelry, hair loose but polished; Beau into dark jeans, button-down, no Stetson (Steve had threatened to burn it), boots swapped for plain deck shoes. He looked less cowboy but still unmistakably himself — calm, solid, quietly intimidating.
"You clean up okay," Kono teased as she adjusted an earring.
"Tryin'," Beau said with a ghost of a smile.
"You hate this, don't you?"
"Crowds aren't my thing."
"Welcome to the surf tour."
Zeus wore a low-profile harness now — still clearly K-9 but less tactical. Beau checked the comms tucked behind his ear and clipped a hidden pistol at the small of his back.
Steve eyed him critically. "Better. Still looks like he could break someone in half, but we'll take it."
Danny snorted. "Bodyguard chic."
Rolling North
The convoy moved up the coast as twilight deepened. Steve and Danny peeled off to stage surveillance; Chin stayed back with the tech van. Beau drove the Bronco with Kono riding shotgun, Zeus curled quietly behind them.
The drive was mostly quiet until Kono said, "You ever go undercover before?"
"Couple times," Beau replied. "Usually not this… fancy."
"Same," she said with a small grin. "Except I was usually the bait."
"You're still bait," Beau noted dryly.
"Thanks for the reminder," she said, but the tease took the edge off her nerves.
He glanced at her, serious again. "I won't let anything happen to you."
She looked at him a long beat, then nodded. "I know."
The Sponsor House
Pacific Edge's rented beach house rose three stories over Sunset Beach — modern glass and wood glowing warm under tiki torches. Music pulsed low but expensive. Sleek cars lined the drive. Guests in surf-casual glam milled on decks with drinks.
Beau parked a block away and they approached on foot. Kono slipped into the party with natural grace, greeting a few surprised but respectful surfers. Beau followed half a step behind, the perfect protective shadow, Zeus heeling tight.
Inside: airy open spaces, surfboards as art, catering trays, a live DJ. But Beau's eyes caught the details — men with comms earpieces, crates tucked under tarps on the lanai, a private room guarded at the back.
Kono's smile stayed bright, but she murmured into comms, "Definitely not just surfers here."
"Copy," Steve's voice came in her ear. "We've got visuals on exterior. Stay cool."
Danny added: "Remember, no hero cowboy stunts."
Beau's mouth quirked slightly but he didn't reply.
Mingling & Intel
Kono moved easily among the surf elite, laughing, talking, shaking hands. Some old friends were warm; others cool but curious. She introduced Beau as "security from the mainland." The cover held — few looked twice except to admire Zeus, who was lying calmly but watchful.
Beau stayed alert: scanning hands, exits, crates. He murmured occasional updates to Chin on the comm: number of guards, movement of vans, suspicious duffels moved upstairs.
At one point, Derek — the cocky rival from the beach — approached again, now tipsy. "Kono Kalākaua, back from the dead!" he crowed. "And you brought your cowboy pet."
Beau looked at him slowly, no smile. Derek faltered under the quiet weight of that stare. "Uh… just kidding," he mumbled before retreating.
Kono hid a laugh behind her drink. "That was cruel."
"Effective," Beau said.
The Private Room
Near the party's heart, two Pacific Edge execs slipped into the guarded back room with a pair of unfamiliar men — not surfers: military haircuts, hard eyes. Beau's attention sharpened.
"Kono," Steve's voice came. "Try to get closer, we need faces."
She glanced at Beau. He leaned in, murmuring, "I'll run interference."
She slid toward the door casually, chatting with a friend. Beau moved to block a line of sight from the guards, pretending to check his phone while Zeus sat poised.
Kono angled just enough to snap a covert photo with her phone: two buyers exchanging a briefcase with the execs. She sent the pic to Chin.
"Got it," she whispered.
Chin's voice: "Positive ID — ex-private military contractors tied to East Asia gun runners."
Steve: "Perfect. We can move tonight. Just hold position."
Tension Rises
As the meeting ended, one guard spotted Beau lingering. His eyes narrowed. He started over.
Beau straightened casually, shifting to shield Kono. The guard stopped a foot away, sizing him up.
"Problem?" Beau asked, voice low but polite.
"You with someone?" the man asked, accent clipped.
"Protecting a guest," Beau said easily. "Standard."
The guard studied Zeus, then Beau's calm, steady stare. Something in it made him think twice; he muttered and backed off.
Kono exhaled quietly. "Nice."
"Old trick," Beau murmured.
"You're good at this."
"First rodeo," he said, almost smiling.
The Hook
Steve's voice crackled: "Good work. We've got enough to move tonight. Sit tight until we pull the plug."
Danny: "Translation: don't start a fight."
Beau looked at Kono. She gave a small, relieved smile — job done, at least for now. But adrenaline still hummed under her skin; he could feel it in the way she stood close.
The night wasn't over, but the mission was nearly sealed.
And something about the quiet between them — charged from danger, trust, and the strange intimacy of cover — felt alive, unspoken, and heading toward a line neither of them had planned to cross.
The party swelled as the night deepened. Lanterns burned warm against the dark; music thumped low and hypnotic. Kono slipped easily among old surf friends, but Beau could feel the undercurrent: guards changing positions, crates being moved, tension sharpening like a rip tide.
Zeus stayed tucked under a table near Beau's boots, calm but alert, amber eyes sweeping the crowd. Every time someone got too close, the dog's ears flicked forward and the space mysteriously widened.
Steve's voice came soft over comms: "Buyers confirmed. HPD tactical is ten out, we'll hit when they load the trucks."
Danny muttered, "Can't believe I'm sitting in a surveillance van at a beach party."
"Focus," Steve replied. "Walker, eyes on crates?"
Beau moved to the lanai edge, pretending to check his phone. "Affirm. They're prepping two vans. Guards heavier now."
Kono slid up beside him, dress swaying with the breeze. "Showtime soon?"
"Soon," he murmured. "Stay close."
She shot him a quick glance — part thanks, part nerves. "Copy, cowboy."
The Spark
Inside the guarded room, a cheer went up — deal closed. Two men with military haircuts carried out a duffel. Guards moved toward the vans.
"Movement," Beau whispered.
Steve: "Wait until HPD's in position."
But one of the guards suddenly stiffened, eyes on Beau and Zeus. He spoke quickly into a radio. Another guard turned — and spotted Kono's comm earpiece just as she brushed her hair back.
"Compromised," Beau hissed.
"Move!" Steve ordered.
Chaos Breaks
The first guard lunged toward Kono. Beau reacted before thought: shoved her behind him, caught the man's wrist, twisted hard, and sent him sprawling. Zeus exploded forward at a single German command — "Fass!" — and clamped on another guard's arm, pulling him down screaming.
Music screeched to a stop. Guests scattered, screaming. Two smugglers drew pistols; Beau fired first, controlled and fast, dropping one and winging the other.
"Kono, out!" Beau barked.
But she was already moving — kicking the first guard hard enough to drop him and grabbing Beau's sleeve to pull toward the back deck.
Steve and Danny's SUV screeched up front just as more smugglers spilled from the vans. Gunfire cracked; people dove for cover.
Fighting Out
Beau and Kono ducked behind a surfboard rack as bullets chewed into wood. He leaned out, returned fire with calm precision. Kono grabbed a fallen guard's pistol and covered the other side.
Zeus, at Beau's low signal, darted across the deck and hamstrung a gunman trying to flank. Beau whistled and the dog bounded back to cover, muzzle bloody but eyes bright.
"Nice dog," Kono muttered, adrenaline-sharp.
"Best partner I ever had," Beau replied, reloading.
"Hey!" Danny's voice yelled over comms. "We're breaching front! Keep heads down!"
Steve and HPD swept through the main entrance seconds later, trading fire with the smugglers. Beau and Kono used the distraction to push forward, taking down two more men and clearing a path to the vans.
One of the buyers tried to drive off; Beau put two rounds into the engine block and the van died with a cough of smoke.
Within minutes the fight was over — smugglers cuffed, buyers arrested, crates of gun-stuffed boards seized. HPD officers flooded the scene.
Aftermath on the Deck
As the adrenaline drained, Kono leaned against the rail, breathing hard. Her hair was mussed, dress torn at the hem, sand stuck to her legs. But her eyes were alive — fierce and defiant.
Beau checked Zeus for injuries (none) then turned to her. "You okay?"
She nodded, shaky but grinning. "Yeah. You?"
"Fine."
They looked at each other and for a beat just laughed — the wild, shaky laugh of people who survived.
Steve approached, face half proud, half annoyed. "I said wait."
"They spotted us," Beau said calmly.
"Good call," Steve admitted after a second. He looked at Kono. "Nice work."
"Thanks, boss," she said, still catching breath.
Danny staggered up behind them, glaring. "You two owe me a new heart. Thought cowboy security was supposed to avoid gunfights."
Beau only tipped his cap slightly — somehow he'd gotten it back on — and Danny groaned.
Media & Clean-up
By the time HPD wrapped the scene, the story had started leaking: "Five-0 busts massive gun smuggling ring at surf contest." Steve handled the press with terse confidence; Danny fed a few lines to make them look less like vigilantes.
Beau stayed out of the cameras, tending Zeus and watching Kono. She was swarmed by old surf friends — some clapping her back, some apologizing for doubting her. She accepted it with quiet grace but Beau saw how much it meant.
At one point Maka found them. "Girl, you still ride like a queen," he told Kono, voice thick. "Kea would be proud."
Kono swallowed hard. "Thanks, Maka."
Maka looked at Beau and nodded. "Good man watching your back."
Beau tipped his hat. "Always."
HQ Debrief
Hours later, back at HQ, the team gathered exhausted but satisfied. Steve laid out seized rifles on the table for a quick photo before evidence lockup.
"That's a major pipeline cut," Chin said. "Wo Fat's network will feel this."
"Good work all around," Steve said. His eyes went to Kono. "You led us in. Proud of you."
Kono's smile was small but real. "Felt good to be back."
Danny flopped into a chair. "Except for the gunfight. But yeah."
Steve turned to Beau. "You ran point clean. Nice work, Walker."
Beau only nodded. "Team effort."
"Still," Steve said, with the quiet respect of one operator to another. "Good to have you here."
Late Night — Two of Them
It was nearly 2 a.m. when the others finally trickled home. Beau stayed behind to clean Zeus's gear. Kono lingered, leaning against the big table, silent for a long time.
"You heading out?" Beau asked.
"Not yet." She looked down at her hands. "Feels weird. Good, but weird. Like… I finally did something right again."
"You did a lot right," Beau said softly.
She met his eyes, and in them he saw the exhaustion and relief of someone who'd been doubting herself for months.
"You saved me back there," she said.
"Team saved each other."
She shook her head. "You stepped in before anyone else. You didn't even know me."
Beau just held her gaze. "Didn't need to."
Something cracked then — the wall she'd been holding. She stepped closer, still unsure, but drawn. He didn't move away.
"Beau…" she started, then stopped, searching his face.
"Yeah?" His voice was low.
"I don't want to be alone tonight."
He didn't answer right away. Just studied her — saw the strength, the hurt, the way she was reaching for something steady. Then he nodded once, slow and respectful. "Okay."
No rush. No heat. Just agreement.
They left together quietly, no one else around, Zeus trotting after them. Outside, the moon lit the HQ parking lot silver. They paused by the Bronco, a breath between them, then she leaned in and kissed him — slow, sure, nothing like the quick drunk kiss weeks ago.
He kissed her back, steady and warm. When they finally broke apart, she whispered, "You sure?"
"Yeah."
Then they climbed in — her in the passenger seat, Zeus curling behind — and drove off into the sleeping city.
The sun rose soft and gold over Honolulu, washing the city in light that felt almost too calm after the gunfire of the night before. Beau woke early out of habit; years of Navy life didn't allow sleeping in. But this time, the quiet room around him wasn't a barracks or a safehouse.
Kono lay asleep on the other side of the bed, one arm flung over the pillow, hair tangled by ocean air and a night's rest. Her breathing was slow, steady. She looked younger like this, but not fragile — more like someone who'd finally dropped armor after a long day of fighting.
Zeus had planted himself at the bedroom doorway like a sentinel. His ears flicked when Beau swung his legs to the floor, but the dog stayed silent.
Beau sat there for a moment, rubbing a hand over his face. It wasn't regret he felt — not even close. But there was awareness. Complication. Last night hadn't been planned; it was two people pushed to the edge finally reaching for warmth.
He glanced back once more before slipping out quietly to make coffee.
Kitchen Conversations
Kono padded in twenty minutes later, wearing one of Beau's spare T-shirts, still half-sleepy but composed. She paused when she saw the mug waiting for her on the counter.
"You made coffee?" she asked, voice husky.
"Old habit," Beau said.
She smiled faintly, took a sip, then leaned against the counter. For a while neither spoke. The hum of the fridge and the distant surf filled the silence.
Finally she said, "You're quiet."
"Trying to give you space," Beau replied.
She met his eyes, hesitant. "About last night…"
"Doesn't have to mean anything you don't want it to," he said gently.
Kono let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "Good. Because I… I don't know what I want right now."
"That's okay."
Her gaze softened. "You're really okay with that?"
"I'm old-fashioned," he admitted, "but I'm not here to trap you. We were two people who went through hell together. Sometimes that's enough."
She smiled a little, gratitude flickering across her face. "You're a good man, Beau Walker."
He chuckled quietly. "Trying."
Setting Boundaries
They sat at the small table, mugs between them, talking low.
"We keep this quiet?" she asked.
"Best for the team," he agreed. "No drama."
"No promises about Danny not sniffing it out," she joked.
"Danny seems the sniffing type," Beau said dryly, and she laughed — real, unguarded.
Her smile lingered a beat longer than casual, then she sobered. "I can't be… more right now. My badge isn't even fully safe yet. I'm still finding my footing."
"I know," Beau said. "Friends who sometimes… cross lines?"
She huffed a soft laugh. "That a Texas term?"
"Something like that."
"Okay." She nodded, decision settling. "Friends."
Team Check-In
Mid-morning, Steve's voice came through their phones: Debrief at HQ in one hour.
Kono glanced toward Beau. "Guess back to work."
He smiled wryly. "Work doesn't wait."
They cleaned up the apartment quietly but comfortably — no awkward fumbling, just an understanding. When they stepped outside, Zeus bounded into the Bronco with his usual ease. Kono slid into the passenger seat without a word; Beau drove.
The drive to HQ was companionable. Windows down, ocean breeze sweeping in, the weight of what happened last night settling but not heavy.
Debrief
HQ buzzed with controlled chaos: weapons being catalogued, paperwork piles, HPD brass cycling through to congratulate Steve. Danny paced with a coffee while lecturing someone on the phone. Chin worked quietly at a terminal.
Steve looked up as Beau and Kono entered. "Morning."
"Morning, boss," Kono said smoothly. Only a tiny flicker of eye contact passed between her and Beau — private, invisible to the rest.
Steve briefed: "Buyers in custody, shell corp traced to Wo Fat's old network. Excellent work. Kono — you cracked this open. Governor's office called already; IA's pressure on you just evaporated."
Relief flashed across Kono's face but she kept her voice even. "Glad to hear it."
Danny clapped her shoulder. "Told you you're still Five-0."
Steve turned to Beau. "You handled security perfectly. Zeus too. Clean op."
"Thanks," Beau said, simple and calm.
Danny eyed him suspiciously. "You're almost likable when you're not starting firefights."
Beau tipped his cap slightly. "Almost."
That actually got a chuckle out of Chin.
Paperwork & Side Talk
While Steve handled media calls, the rest slogged through reports. Beau and Kono sat at opposite ends of a table, professional but comfortable.
Danny eventually wandered over, eyeing them. "You two look awfully… coordinated."
Kono shot him a dry look. "We were undercover together, Danny."
"Mhm." He looked at Beau. "Watch her back?"
"Always," Beau said evenly.
Danny narrowed eyes — then shrugged. "Good. Just don't let her surf circles around you."
"She already did," Beau said without missing a beat. Kono laughed; Danny rolled his eyes but seemed satisfied.
Lunch Break
By early afternoon Steve cut them loose. "HPD's taking the mountain of evidence. Get food, rest up. Tomorrow's another day."
Outside, Kono lingered by the Bronco. "Hungry?"
"Always," Beau said.
They ended up at a roadside shrimp shack — not Kamekona's, but one of the smaller ones locals loved. They ate quietly on a picnic table under palm shade.
Kono eventually said, "Thanks for last night. Not just… you know. Everything."
"Anytime," Beau said softly.
"You make it easy to… breathe," she admitted.
Beau met her gaze, warm but steady. "You don't owe me anything."
She smiled, small but real. "Still. Thank you."
Unspoken Understanding
They didn't label it, didn't need to. There was no talk of dating, no promises. Just an understanding: friends, partners, something more when the walls cracked. For now, that was enough.
As they drove back toward town, Kono stuck her feet up on the dash, hair flying in the wind. Zeus slept in the back, exhausted from the night's work.
"You're going to have to learn to surf," she said suddenly.
Beau raised a brow. "That a threat?"
"A challenge." She smirked. "Can't have my partner drowning out there."
He chuckled low. "We'll see."
"You'll love it."
"We'll see," he repeated, but there was a hint of a smile.
Quiet Night
By evening Beau was back at his small rented house, Zeus fed and sprawled by the door. He took off his boots, set his badge on the counter, and stood for a long moment looking out at the dark ocean.
Hawaiʻi still felt new, but not foreign anymore. Last night had been reckless, maybe, but it had also been human. And it anchored him in a way he hadn't expected.
His phone buzzed. A message from Kono:
"Thanks again, cowboy. See you tomorrow."
Beau smiled, just a small tug at the corner of his mouth.
He typed back: "Anytime."
Zeus thumped his tail, as if approving.
"Yeah, boy," Beau said quietly. "Think we're finding our place."
The following day dawned clear and hot, trade winds brushing the North Shore clean. By midmorning the beach outside the contest site was crowded with reporters and officials; the overnight raid had already hit the news cycle. Five-0 stood just off camera, waiting while Steve handled the public front.
Steve looked surprisingly comfortable under the lights, giving calm answers in his clipped SEAL way. "A major gun pipeline tied to Wo Fat's network was cut off last night. Thanks to excellent investigative work, the weapons never hit Hawai'i's streets."
He gestured slightly toward the team behind him. "Detective Kalākaua's knowledge of the surf community was critical. Our K-9 unit and task force worked hand-in-hand with HPD."
Cameras swung to Kono. She blinked at the sudden attention but stood tall. The ocean glittered behind her; a dozen young surfers nearby whispered and pointed.
One reporter asked, "Detective Kalākaua, how does it feel to return to the surf scene this way?"
Kono's smile was measured but real. "It's an honor to protect the community I grew up in. Kea Mahoe taught a lot of us what surfing means. We wanted justice for him."
The murmurs were approving. Beau, watching from the side with Zeus sitting obediently, saw how much that simple moment meant. Her shoulders were square, her chin high. The doubt he'd seen yesterday was gone.
After Cameras
Once the press dispersed, Steve clapped Kono on the shoulder. "Nice work."
"Thanks, boss."
Danny appeared with a grin. "See? Whole state loves you again. Told you IA was garbage."
Chin nodded warmly. "You honored Kea."
Kono ducked her head, a little overwhelmed but smiling.
Beau didn't step into the spotlight but when she glanced his way, he tipped his head — a silent told you so. She rolled her eyes but her smile widened.
IA Loose Ends
Back at HQ that afternoon, Steve met with an IA liaison. The conversation was brief but decisive: with her lead role in exposing the smuggling ring and the Governor's direct praise, IA's file on Kono was being closed with a recommendation to fully reinstate her.
When Steve came out of his office, the whole team looked up.
"You're clear," he announced simply.
For a heartbeat Kono didn't move. Then Danny whooped, Chin grinned, and even Beau broke a small smile. Steve's own grin was quiet but proud.
Kono let out a shaky laugh. "Finally."
Danny patted her shoulder. "Told you we had your back."
Beau caught her eye. His look said everything: You earned this yourself.
Lunch as a Family
To celebrate, the team piled into trucks and headed to Kamekona's shrimp truck. Kamekona beamed at the sight of them and quickly started throwing extra plates on the grill.
"Big bust, huh?" he asked, eyes sparkling. "You boys and girls eat free today."
"Music to my ears," Danny muttered happily.
They grabbed a picnic table under the palms. Zeus curled under Beau's chair, content but watchful. Surf music played from a battered speaker.
Steve lifted a plastic cup. "To Kono — back where she belongs."
"Here, here!" Danny cheered.
Chin smiled softly. "Welcome home, cuz."
Beau raised his cup too but didn't speak — the quiet toast of a man who lets actions talk. Kono caught it anyway and gave him a grateful glance.
Banter and Bonds
Lunch rolled into easy teasing. Danny tried to explain New Jersey pizza superiority to Kamekona; Steve rolled his eyes. Chin told a story about rookie days. When conversation turned to the North Shore op, Danny pointed at Beau.
"Not bad for a guy who thinks board wax is something you put on saddles."
Beau smirked. "Still don't know what a thruster is."
Kono chuckled. "It's a kind of fin setup."
"Sounds like something for horses," Beau deadpanned.
That got the table laughing, even Steve.
"You're alright, Walker," Danny admitted reluctantly.
"I'll take it," Beau said.
A Quiet Walk
After lunch the group drifted back to vehicles. Kono lingered behind with Beau and Zeus, strolling slowly along the sand.
"Feels different," she said softly. "Being part of this team again without the IA cloud."
"You earned it," Beau replied.
"I was scared I'd never feel at home again." She glanced at him. "You made it easier."
He shrugged. "Just did my job."
"More than that." She hesitated, then smiled wryly. "Also thanks for not making last night weird."
Beau's mouth tugged into a small grin. "Told you — no pressure."
"Good. Because… I like this. Us. Whatever this is."
He nodded once. "Me too."
She reached down to scratch Zeus, who leaned into her hand happily. "He likes me."
"High praise," Beau said.
She laughed and let the surf breeze wash over them. For the first time in months, she looked light.
Team Trust
That evening Steve swung by Beau's small rental house with a case of beer — informal, just two SEALs unwinding on the porch while Zeus lounged at their feet.
"Joe told me your dad's an old teammate," Steve said after a while.
"Yeah. Said to come help."
"Glad he did. You fit here."
Beau looked out at the ocean. "Feels like I'm finally doing something good without… losing myself."
Steve nodded slowly. "That's what I found with Five-0 too."
They clinked bottles quietly. No big words needed.
Late Night Texts
Later, Beau was on the couch scratching Zeus behind the ears when his phone buzzed.
Kono: Thanks for today. And for yesterday. And for not making things messy.
Beau: Anytime.
Kono: Drinks later this week? Just us?
Beau: Sure.
Kono: Friends, right?
Beau: Friends.
(After a pause)
Kono: …with benefits? ;)
Beau chuckled softly and typed:
Beau: Guess so.
He set the phone down, a quiet smile tugging at his mouth.
Zeus thumped his tail, sensing his partner's calm.
"Yeah, buddy," Beau murmured. "We're settling in."
Quiet Resolution
For Kono, the nightmare of IA was finally over. For Beau, Hawai'i was no longer just a mission — it was starting to feel like home. Their new arrangement was undefined but honest, and neither felt the need to explain it to anyone yet.
Tomorrow there would be new cases, new dangers. But tonight, there was peace: surf and salt air drifting through an open window, a loyal dog at his side, and a text thread that meant he wasn't as alone as he'd been for years.
By the time Friday rolled around, the adrenaline of the bust had faded into the warm afterglow of a win. Steve decided it was time for an informal ohana night — no press, no Governor, just the task force and a few trusted friends.
They gathered at Steve's house on the south shore: lanterns glowing, the ocean whispering beyond the deck, and a grill already going strong. Danny arrived first with Grace in tow, the little girl running straight to Zeus with a squeal. The Malinois tolerated the attention with quiet dignity, tail wagging just enough to make her giggle.
"See? He's not scary," Grace announced.
Danny eyed Beau across the yard. "Yeah, but his partner is."
Beau tipped his beer in greeting, unfazed. "Howdy."
Grace frowned thoughtfully. "Do you really ride horses?"
"Grew up on a ranch," Beau said.
"That's so cool," she breathed. Danny groaned and muttered something about cowboys corrupting his kid.
Easy Rhythms
Chin arrived with Leilani, bringing a tray of poke and a soft smile. Kamekona followed soon after, arms full of shrimp skewers and loud good humor. Steve manned the grill while Danny heckled his technique. It was easy, warm — the kind of night Beau hadn't had since before his last deployment.
Kono came a little late, hair damp from a shower, wearing shorts and a loose shirt. She looked relaxed in a way Beau hadn't seen since he met her. Their eyes met briefly; a quiet, private smile passed between them before she went to hug Grace and greet everyone.
No one else seemed to notice. If Danny suspected anything, he didn't show it — too busy arguing with Steve about the merits of charcoal versus gas.
Story Time
At one point, Grace climbed onto the picnic bench beside Beau, fascinated. "Tell me about Texas," she demanded.
Beau chuckled. "Big sky, bigger hats."
"Do you have cows?"
"Hundreds," he said, smiling at the memory. "And horses."
"Do you rope stuff?"
"Sometimes."
Grace's eyes went wide. "Cool."
Danny groaned. "Great. Now she's gonna want a lasso."
Beau only tipped his hat. "I'll teach her safe."
Danny threw up his hands. "No teaching my kid cowboy tricks!"
Everyone laughed, including Kono — the sound warm and real.
Quiet Moments
Later, as night deepened and stars scattered overhead, people spread out across the deck. Steve and Joe talked quietly in one corner about old SEAL days. Chin and Leilani danced slowly to music playing from someone's phone. Danny tried to teach Grace a card trick while Kamekona roasted him for losing.
Beau found himself at the rail, beer in hand, looking out at the dark Pacific. The air smelled of salt and smoke. It was peaceful in a way he hadn't felt in years.
Kono slid up beside him, leaning on the rail too. For a moment they just watched the waves.
"You fit here," she said softly.
"Still feels new," he admitted.
"It'll feel like home soon." She glanced at him, a tiny smirk tugging her lips. "Especially if you keep saving everybody's butts."
He chuckled quietly. "Just doing the job."
She bumped his shoulder lightly with hers. "You did more than that."
He looked at her — warm, a little amused. "You're different tonight."
"Free," she said simply. "Feels good."
Beau nodded once. "Glad."
Their silence after was comfortable, layered with the new understanding between them. No one watching would guess there was anything beyond teammates standing side by side.
Acceptance
When Steve finally called for a toast, everyone gathered. He raised his bottle.
"To ohana," Steve said. "To Kea Mahoe, who inspired us to fight for the right reasons. And to our newest brother, Beau Walker — who came here as a stranger and proved he belongs."
The group cheered and clinked bottles. Danny muttered something about "too many brothers," but he was smiling. Kono's eyes met Beau's across the rim of her beer; quiet pride there, and something warmer.
Beau, not much for speeches, just nodded. "Appreciate it. Feels good to be here."
"That's it?" Danny teased. "No cowboy poem?"
"Not tonight," Beau said, deadpan, and everyone laughed.
Winding Down
As the night mellowed, people drifted off in twos and threes. Joe shook Beau's hand firmly before leaving. "Your dad raised you right, son."
"Thanks, sir."
Steve clapped Beau on the shoulder after walking Joe out. "You did good, Walker. Not easy to drop into a team and earn trust this fast."
"Good team makes it easy," Beau said.
Steve smiled faintly. "You ever need backup, you got it."
"Same here," Beau replied.
The Unspoken
When most guests had gone, Kono lingered to help clean up. They moved easily around each other: collecting bottles, folding chairs. It felt domestic in a way neither named.
At the door she hesitated. "Thanks for… everything this week."
Beau smiled quietly. "Anytime."
She glanced toward the others — Steve and Danny still inside arguing about football — then leaned up and kissed his cheek quickly, almost shy. "See you tomorrow, partner."
"Night, Kono."
She slipped out into the night, leaving Beau standing there with a small, private smile.
Settling In
Later, after everyone had gone, Beau sat on the porch steps with Zeus at his feet, watching the moon spill across the waves. Hawaiʻi's night air was warm and alive with surf and insects. It was different from Texas, different from any deployment — but it felt right.
He scratched Zeus's head. "We might've found our herd, buddy."
Zeus groaned happily, leaning into his knee.
Beau thought of the team — of Steve's trust, Danny's gruff acceptance, Chin's quiet respect, and Kono's brave, warm smile. He thought of how far he'd come from the man who boarded a plane because his father asked.
Home wasn't a ranch or a base. Maybe it could be here.
The house was quiet after the last guest left. Steve had pressed one more beer into Beau's hand before disappearing inside with the easy weariness of a man who'd finally let himself rest. The deck lights hummed softly. Out on the sand the ocean breathed in long, slow waves.
Beau sat in one of the Adirondack chairs, boots off, beer untouched at his side. Zeus lay stretched at his feet, head on paws, eyes half-closed but alert. The dog's ears flicked whenever a night gecko chirped.
For the first time since stepping off the plane from Texas, Beau let himself stop moving.
He thought about the whirlwind: Joe's call, the prison bust, the gun ring, the firefight. About the way this team — strangers just days ago — had opened their circle. About Kono: fierce, shaken, but brave enough to dive back into the surf world and face the whispers. Brave enough to reach for comfort when the night got dark.
He'd promised himself to stay simple here. Just do the job. Yet life had a way of drawing lines you didn't expect.
Zeus nudged his boot gently, as if checking in.
"Yeah, boy," Beau murmured. "We're alright."
The Ping of Connection
His phone buzzed against the armrest. Beau picked it up.
Kono: You still awake?
Beau: Yeah.
Kono: Thanks for tonight. And last night. And… everything.
He smiled faintly, thumb hovering before typing:
Beau: You did the hard part. Proud of you.
A pause.
Kono: Still friends?
Beau: Yeah. Friends.
Then, after a moment:
Kono: …but maybe more sometimes? Until we figure it out?
Beau stared at that for a beat, then typed:
Beau: That works for me.
Kono: Goodnight, cowboy.
Beau: Night, Kono.
He set the phone down. A quiet, small smile stayed on his face.
Tomorrow's Work
Steve stepped back out onto the deck, barefoot now, two beers in hand. "You're still up."
"Couldn't sleep yet," Beau said.
Steve passed him a bottle and dropped into the chair beside him. They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the surf.
"Good op," Steve said at last.
"Solid team," Beau replied.
Steve chuckled softly. "We're chaos most of the time."
"Good chaos," Beau said. Then, after a moment: "Feels… different. Better than some things I've done."
Steve looked at him, thoughtful. "Five-0's about more than catching bad guys. It's about making Hawai'i safer. Family. You're part of it now."
Beau nodded slowly. "Appreciate that."
"Your dad knew what he was doing sending you here," Steve added with a grin.
Beau huffed a quiet laugh. "Guess so."
They clinked bottles once and went back to the comfortable quiet of men who didn't need to say much.
Small Foreshadows
Later, after Steve headed inside, Beau lingered a bit longer, staring at the black water. A distant light blinked on the horizon — a ship moving toward harbor, maybe more ghosts of Wo Fat's network. He felt the familiar tingle of a soldier between battles.
He'd found a place to belong, but peace never lasted. Something else would come — it always did.
Beau wasn't afraid of that. For the first time in years he felt ready to fight for something that mattered and maybe, just maybe, to build a life in the cracks between fights.
Zeus gave a quiet woof, tail thumping.
"Yeah," Beau murmured. "We'll handle whatever's next."
Morning After at HQ
The next day the team regrouped briefly. Paperwork, evidence chain, and the Governor's official commendation streamed through. Kono was fully reinstated; her IA file closed with commendation. She walked into HQ in jeans and a light smile, a weight clearly gone.
Danny was ranting about paperwork. Chin looked serene. Steve was already on the phone with some mysterious Navy contact.
Kono passed Beau's desk, pausing just long enough for their shoulders to brush. "Morning, partner."
"Morning," he said.
No one else noticed, but a quiet current passed between them — easy, warm, secret.
Family Ties
During lunch break, a call came through from Texas. Beau stepped outside to answer, leaning on the HQ railing.
"Son," John Walker's voice rumbled down the line. "Heard from Joe. Said you did good."
"Just doing my job, Dad."
"Always knew you'd land on your feet. Hawai'i treating you right?"
"Yeah," Beau said, looking out at the ocean. "Think I found a place worth staying."
John was quiet a moment, then: "Proud of you."
It wasn't something his father said often. It sat warm and solid in Beau's chest long after the call ended.
A Simple Evening
That night Beau cooked at home — steak seared perfectly, beer cold. Zeus sprawled nearby, content. It felt like the first truly normal night he'd had in years.
Halfway through dinner his phone buzzed again.
Kono: Drink tomorrow after work? Just us. No ops, no adrenaline.
Beau: Sounds good.
Kono: Bring Zeus.
Beau: He goes where I go.
Kono: See you, cowboy.
Beau chuckled softly, shaking his head. Simple. Complicated. Real.
Closing Reflection
Outside, the Hawai'i night was alive: surf rolling steady, palms whispering. Beau stepped out with Zeus, looked up at a sky unfamiliar but beautiful.
He thought about the boy who'd spent summers at a military academy, dreaming of proving himself. The young officer who'd joined Navy Intel at eighteen, chased wars until twenty-eight. The son who came to Hawai'i because his father asked.
Now he was something else: part of a team, part of a fight that mattered, maybe even part of someone's heart — if only in a fragile, undefined way.
He scratched Zeus behind the ears and smiled to himself.
"Home," he said quietly.
Zeus huffed and leaned against his leg.
For the first time since leaving the Teams, Beau Walker believed it.