Hawaii Five-0 is not mine. I make no money from writing this. I only own DVDs and an over-active imagination.

Just to help:

There are numerous different elements, which is a broad phrase including fire, air, death, body, mind etc.

They usually run in family lines and particular areas have more prominent elements than others.

Not everyone has a connection to an element, and most people don't even know about them.

Within each element, there are different abilities, but there is overlap. For example, people with a connection to air may be able to breathe underwater, but so may those within the water element.

Within the death element is life: I have decided this includes the different sections of life, including family. This is why Grace and Danny can see family lines, it's an additional ability they have.

I think that covers it, but let me know if anyone is confused still :)

It all started on the 20th of September, 2010. Actually, it started before that; it started April 19th, 1992 when they had killed Doris. His beautiful wife had been killed in a car bomb; the yakuza were bastards and he had been focussed on making them pay for it.

Doris... Even now it hurt. He had seen the body, the charred remains. It had been impossible to recognise her gentle face in the blackened lumps of skin. He had done the only thing he could do; he had sent his children away.

If Doris dying had been painful, it was nothing compared to Steve's face when he had informed him of the plans. He sent Steven to stay with Joe; the man would keep the boy safe. Where better to stay safe from the yakuza than in a naval academy? Steven had been furious, that look of silent anger so reminiscent of John's father that it had felt like another pain.

All his hurts rolling into one. He was no idiot; he knew that just because he had named his son after his father it did not make him the same person. He thought about his father, the way the man had always been cool, almost unfeeling. When he had been young, John had not understood why his father had not cared... Now, he was better informed; now, he was aware that his father hiding his feelings did not mean he had them. He wished his father had survived the war, that they had had more time to get to know each other.

John hid his own feelings though, not wanting his children to see his pain. That pain had remained hidden for the rest of his life. Even in the last days of his life, he had not known how to tell his children that he loved them. He remembered after their mother had died, Mary had slept on the floor in Steven's room. He was not sure splitting them up had been the right idea, but Deb had promised to love and protect Mary. With Joe and Deb focussed on his children, John had turned his attention to solving Doris' murder.

The more he uncovered, the more he was concerned; all he could see was a tangled web of lies that locked Wo Fat, Pat Jameson and Hiro Noshimuri together. He had been blind to anything else; to his children growing up without him, trying to earn his love; to the way the problems in other areas of the police force; to Victor Hesse sneaking into his home.

As he sat tied to that chair, as he listened to the man threaten his life, it occurred to John McGarrett, that he couldn't remember the last time he had told his handsome boy or his wonderful little girl the words 'I love you'.

When the phone was pressed to his ear, John made sure he told Steven; he got the words out. He also pointed him in the direction of his investigation. The last things he heard in this life was Victor Hesse snarling while his son shouted down the phone. At least the pain stopped.

John McGarrett's afterlife started in what he imagined was a very different was to his first one. He liked to think he came to a slow awareness the first time round; this time he found he could move his hands and brought them up in a flinch.

The strange feel made him open his eyes, he jumped up and shuddered; it felt as though he had just pulled himself up out of warm water and emerged into a cold environment. He looked around the room; his body was slumped down in the chair, unmoving with blood flowing...

"Anton..." He heard a wreaked voice whisper behind him. Hesse took a deep breath then began barking orders out.

The two men hurried about as John watched with a distinct feeling of detachment. He kept his eyes away from his body while he waited to wake up; it turned his stomach.

Hesse and his associate left quickly and quietly. John left the room and sat himself down on the stairs. He had to be asleep; people didn't die and just remain around...

He jumped when the doorbell rang, hurrying over to answer it; his hand passed straight through the door handle. John repeated the action several times; unable to understand why it wasn't working. He frowned and focussed on what he was doing; this time he could hold the handle, but was completely unable to move it.

"John McGarrett? This is Detective Danny Williams and Detective Meka Hanamoa; are you there"

"I can't open the door. You'll just have to come in." He replied... His voice sounded a little odd, almost like an echo.

"Come on, Danny. No one is there."

"I really think we should go in..."

"Danny, this guy was a cop; one of the best I ever knew! He can take care of himself."

"Meka..."

"Ok, brah, I got your back."

The handle pushed down and two cops came inside. One was a handsome native, the other a short blonde man. They walked straight through him.

"Uh, cold!" Yelped Detective Williams loudly. " OH! A body... Meka? Call it in, buddy."

The small detective had turned and walked straight back out the room, standing beside his partner.

Watching Hanamoa dial HPD, John made a quick decision; he reached out, all his attention on the man and tried to touch him. He felt the cloth of his shirt, the soft feel of his skin. Hanamoa didn't turn around.

The dead man turned his attention to the other man; with the same focus he reached out, prodding the rough material of the man's shirt and getting no response, he focussed on grabbing his wrist. Detective Williams gasped and jumped back.

"You ok?" Asked Hanamoa, his dark eyes openly showing their concern.

"Yeah." Murmured Williams. "Must have caught a draft or something..." He didn't sound convinced, but the two men left the house as they waited for the CSU to arrive. John waited in the house; he felt no desire to leave.

The first time he ventured outside after death, John was felt a great deal of surprise. There were several people wandering about, chattering and going about their normal life; but there were others as well. John could see a young woman in waist high jeans and a tank top sat at a bus stop; her eyes were unfocussed and her head had a large wound on it. There was an old man shuffling down the street, normal in every way if you ignored the way other people walked through him. Another old man was smoking a pipe, the gunshot wound right between his eyes didn't seem to bother him; a child giggled as she scrambled past him, her t-shirt not hiding the finger marks around her neck...

He looked back at his house, wondering if it would be better to just stay inside.

"Hi." A young boy was stood in front of John, his bright eyes shining; he wore a rash guard and board shorts, but the shirt was stuck to his side with blood.

"Hello."

"You're new." John wanted to object to that; Hawaii was his home... but he thought about it for a moment.

"I suppose I am. What's your name, son?"

"Peter. Who are you?"

"John."

"Nice meeting you." And the boy ran off, spotting the young girl and chasing after her with a squeal. John wanted to say something, to object to the fact that they were clearly dead... but there was nothing to say. He set off down the street, looking around at the people. It occurred to him that the others must be able to see his gunshot wound, as he could see what caused their deaths; it was strange that he didn't care, as though the fact that he was dead had not quite registered yet.

He really didn't know what to do about that, so he continued on to the morgue where he found Dr. Bergman cleaning his body up.

The funeral was hard. Steven had looked striking in his uniform but his face had been closed off. Like his father, like himself, Steve had closed off his emotions, hidden them away.

Mary had not attended.

The idea was more painful than anything else; more painful than Doris dying, more painful than sending his kids away, more painful than when Hesse had beaten him up; his daughter had not attended his funeral. His son had stood there, alone and closed off...

It was actually quite nice to see who had turned up though. The majority of the HPD seemed to have arrived, and he was pleased to see Chin Ho Kelly standing off to one side. All that paled though, when he looked at the empty space beside Steve...

Afterwards, he had hurried back to the house. One thing he had realised was that while he couldn't take cars anymore, he didn't tire out either; so he jogged back home. Detective Williams was inside standing beside Detective Hanamoa. He was rambling away, as usual, but the topic was a little different.

"...and you, my friend, are ill. You ought to be at home, with your feet up, not working. I've got Gracie this weekend; you know how annoyed I'll be if I miss it 'cause you collapse and end up in hospital. What if I catch whatever it is, then I'll be even more pissed. C'mon buddy, I'm driving you home."

"Danny, I'm good." Hanamoa took advantage of the gap.

"Good? Good?! You look like you got flu! How is that good? Tell me that, my friend; how is that good? You look like death warmed over. Come on, I'm taking you home. Amy will not be happy if you do a full day like this. You need rest!"

"Urgh... Whatever you say, brah. Can I cuddle the bunny that's in the back of your car?"

"Cute, Meka. Real cute."

John sighed in relief as they left. Williams was loud, abrasive and he made John smile. The way he treated his emotions was the exact opposite of their family; Williams very much pushed his feelings in your face, forcing them to be dealt with. From the little he had seen, it seemed very effective in getting him what he wanted, even if it did anger a lot of people on the way.

As he wandered off to relax, John heard the door open downstairs. He wondered if Williams was back already, and if he could be bothered to go see him. After a few minutes, he did pull himself up though. There was no point lying around, he didn't actually get tired anymore, he couldn't sleep.

Steve was on his knees by the desk.

"Steve!" He called out, forgetting that his son would be unable to hear him. The young man snapped a photo of the desk surface before heading into the garage. John winced when the door creaked; he had been meaning to fix that for some time... It was too late for that now though.

Watching Steve uncover the Mercury gave him a stab of regret. They hadn't finished it... Steve had visited when he had been forced to take leave; during that time they had done bits, but it wasn't finished... He turned away, unable to view the pain in his son's eyes. The clatter of tools made him turn back though, and he watched as Steve stared at the toolbox, before opening it and rifling through.

He frowned when he heard his voice on the tape recorder; it was one thing he never liked to hear, hear himself speak. A bang caused his son to shut it off and close the toolbox.

"You! Hands up! Don't move!" Detective Williams was back.

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

"I am Detective Danny Williams." Williams was speaking at his usual volume; slightly too loud.

"Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, this is my father's house-" John hurried over, focussing his attention on his son. It would be no good if Steve shot the man investigating his murder. He touched Steve's skin, but his son didn't even twitch.

"Put your weapon down right now!"

"No, you put your weapon down. Show me your ID!" Commanded Steve, shouting over Williams.

"...put- No, you show me your ID, right now!"

"I'm not putting my gun down."

"Neither am I." Williams replied softly.

"Use your free hand, take out your ID." John sighed. He clearly hadn't raised his son to be trusting...

"Please, after you." Williams curled his lip slightly as he flicked his gun

"At the same time?" Steve tried for a compromise.

"At the same time?"

"Yeah, at the same time." Steve was raising his voice again.

"What, like on the count of three?" The sarcasm in Williams' voice was heavy.

"Sure, okay. Three is good."

Counting, they both pulled out their wallets, displaying their ID. John folded his arms as he stared, wanting the two to get along.

"He's a good kid, Steve." John muttered, knowing his son would not be able to hear him. Williams turned his head in his direction for a moment, as though he had heard something, but his focus quickly returned to the man before him.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about your father but you can't be here right now. This is an active crime scene."

"Doesn't seem that active." John rolled his eyes at the response.

"I can't share any information with you." Williams' voice was quite gentle.

"Hesse wasn't in here alone when my father was murdered. Someone was sitting at the desk in the study. There was a space cleared or a thirteen inch laptop and my father hated computers." Steve replied in an equally gentle voice. John smiled though, when he realised he had never told his son that, but he had noticed anyway.

"I'm gonna ask you again, you gotta leave."

"You got it." Steve grabbed the toolbox and began to walk.

"And you can leave the box. That is evidence, you know that." Williams was again talking at his normal volume.

"I came with this." John and Danny both rolled their eyes at that.

"No, you didn't come with it. I see the dust void it left right here on the counter." Williams walked over to the space and turned around. "What's in the box? What are you hiding in there?"

"How long have you been with the Honolulu P.D.?"

"None of your business. What? Are you Barbara Walters?" Williams wrinkled his nose at Steve.

"No, it is my business if you're investigating my father's death."

"I am." Williams got himself back on track. "And I'd like to get back to that; so the sooner you leave, the sooner I can."

"Anything you say."

"Leave the box or get arrested. All right?" John hoped Steve would use his brain...

"You gonna call you back up?"

"An ambulance." Steve raised his chin, looking as though he was trying not to smile. John had no need to hide his smirk.

"Thank you." Said Williams, when Steve put the box down.

"Don't thank me yet." John frowned as his boy pulled out a phone, wondering what he was up to.

"Oh, yeah. Governor Jameson, please. Tell her it's Steve McGarrett." What happened to starting with hello...?

"Oh, please." Scoffed Williams.

"Commander? Governor James here. What can I do for you?" Came Pat Jameson's tinny voice over the speaker.

"Gotta be kidding me." muttered the detective, a scowl on his face.

"Governor, I'll take the job." Said Steve, taking the phone off speaker. "No, let's just say I found something that changed my mind... No, no, no. Immediately. I'll transfer to the reserves and I'll run your task force."

John raised his eyebrows at that. A task force? With his son in charge? He knew nothing about police procedure...

"Wait, what, right now...? Okay." Steve huffed at the phone, but shifted it over to his left hand, raising his right one. "I, Steven, J. McGarrett do solemnly declare upon my honour and conscience that I will act at all times to the best of my ability and knowledge in a manner befitting an officer of the law... Thank you, governor."

He hung up and grabbed the tool box.

"Now it's my crime scene."

Detective Williams glared at him in silence, before following him out the door. As Williams left, Steve dropped the toolbox onto the table.

"You're in over your head here, Steve." Muttered John.

"Guess I'll swing by the precinct."

Once Steve had left, John headed outside. He grinned at Anela as she hurried past him, the child still rushing about as she had when he had first seen her. He chuckled as he watched Peter running after her.

As his eyes roamed he saw the young woman sitting at the bus stop again. Her eyes were unfocussed as ever, but she was rocking slightly where she sat. He headed over.

"Aloha." He said gently.

"Hi." She said, turning her head towards him. Her dark eyes remained unfocussed, but she smiled and tucked some of her long black hair behind her ear.

"I'm John."

"Keala."

"That's a beautiful name."

"Thank you."

He sat beside her for a few minutes, trying to decide how to ask what he wanted to know.

"You're lost?" She spoke up before he had collected his thoughts.

"I think so. I died."

"Me too; nearly 30 years ago."

"R-Really?"

"Yeah. You need Kōkua, though."

"Help...That's why I'm here."

"I can't give it to you yet. Just wait and help will come to you."

"Ok."

"I'll tell you though, if you want to do something, focus on it."

"So, I can sleep?"

"It's not sleep... You just... move forwards."

"Thank you."

" 'A'ole pilikia."

"Aloha 'oe."

"Aloha."

He gave it a try, focussing hard on having some rest. It was exhausting to be up and about all the time; even though his body didn't need the rest, his mind did.

"Your, uh, brain must be a miserable place." He heard Williams say as he came back. He turned around to see the small man stood next to his son. "I need a beer."

The man wandered off into the kitchen and Steve grinned. The two men went out to the lanai, but John didn't follow. He hadn't wanted to listen in on every detail of his son's conversations before and he didn't want to start.

He may not be able to switch the television on, but he didn't want to invade Steve's privacy.

When Steve left in the morning, John decided he would walk down to the beach. He waved at Keala as he passed the bus stop and allowed the children to run past him as they played. He called out to Endora and Akamu as he passed the old couple, they smiled and called back.

He realised he was not alone. His son was alive and well; looking as though he was making friends on the island. Steve would be fine.

John just needed to find some place for himself in this strange afterlife.

When he got back, Steve was home. It was the end of what had clearly been a busy day for the man; he had one arm in a sling and numerous cuts on his face. That didn't bother him though, because Steve was on the phone will Detective Williams; there was a large grin breaking across his face. It seemed Steve had shot Hesse today, but the man's body had not been found. John didn't mind though.

They would be fine.

As time passed by, John began to realise how much of a health nut his son was. It wasn't a criticism, it wasn't a complaint, but it was an observation. His son got up early every morning to go swimming; every single morning. If he didn't swim, he got up early to go for a jog.

He found that Detective Danny Williams had started coming over every morning as well. Some days he got there before Steve got back in, and simply waited on the lanai, or days he got there later on and just waltzed in. They tended to carpool to work, but John was finding he actually quite liked the loud blonde.

One morning in particular, Steve was listening to the recording John had made; John himself was sat on the stairs, out of the way because he liked neither the sound of his voice or the emotions that flitted across his son's face as he listened to the tape. Detective Williams slipped quietly inside, not making a noise until he shoved the front door shut.

"What is it with you and walking into people's houses?" asked Steve as he turned in his chair.

"I knocked." Lied Williams.

"I didn't hear you knock."

"Well, I did. I knocked and I saw you through the window and I thought you nodded."

"Didn't nod."

"Would you like me to leave?" asked Williams, still not seeming to recognise the problem.

"Depends. What's in the bag?"

"Oh, those doughnut looking things they sell around the block."

"Malasadas?"

"Yeah, whatever they are; they're fried and they taste good. You want one?"

"No. Not without bypass surgery." Naturally. John lamented the fact that Steve was missing out on the good things in life. "And you can stay; just don't eat near my stuff." He pulled a face as Williams stuff a bite into his mouth.

"Can I have a napkin?" John snorted with laughter, this kid had given the exact same response he would have; wind the other person up as best he could... But John had never gotten around to acting like that with his kids.

"Yeah." Steve grinned, looking as though he was trying not to outright laugh.

"What was that look? What, they teach you how not to spill in the army?"

"It's the Navy, okay? The Navy." Steve wandered over, brandishing a napkin. "It's not the spill. It's the tie. No one in Hawaii wears a tie." This was a good point.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Replied Williams, not looking sorry at all while Steve tidied up the mess the smaller man had made. "I like to look like a professional."

"A professional what?" John grinned as he watched them. It reminded his of being little and listening to his parents banter.

"Okay, this is my favourite tie. Grace gave me this tie for Father's Day. Oh, and also, so you know, back in Jersey and every normal city in this country; this is what a detective looks like."

"Really?" John watched his boy step back, hands on his hips.

"Yeah, really."

"Yeah. Shirt, tie, doughnut crumbs. You missed a spot. You're never gonna fit in here looking like you're from the mainland."

"Who says I wanna fit in? I don't wanna fit in. I wanna look like I'm from the mainland!" His voice was starting to rise in volume. "Okay, I got eighty seven homicide cases under my belt, looking like this."

"Not in a hundred and ten degree weather. I'm just saying."

"I'm not taking off the tie."

"Fine."

"So leave it alone."

"Okay."

"Okay? You wanna discuss my shoes?"

"Well, now that you mention it; patent leather loafers?"

"Will you, uh, do me a favour, please? Just let it go."

Steve grinned again, but he shut the toolbox and sat back down as Williams sighed.

"That your dad's stuff?"

"Yeah."

"You getting anything from it?" John was sure Williams glanced in his direction there...

"More questions than answers. Talk to the coast guard?"

"Yeah. They didn't find Victor Hesse's body yet. That does not mean that they won't." Williams insisted as Steve pressed his face into his hands.

"What if he's alive?"

"You emptied a mag into the guy. He's fish food."

John walked off as Williams continued to reassure his son. He heard a phone ring and then the two men were bickering again as they headed out the door. He followed them out, walking straight through the door as Steve shut it behind him.

He headed straight over to the bus stop, as usual, to see Keala. She smiled in his direction, her eyes still not actually looking at him.

"Aloha."

"Hey, kid." He greeted. "I was thinking; want to go for a walk around today?"

"Sure." She shrugged. They headed out. The walk was slow, and John was relieved that he could not feel the heat.

"Can we leave? This... place, I mean."

"Do you see every person who has ever died on Hawaii here?"

"I... guess not." He sighed. Some people moved on, to God, or whatever; some seemed to stay here.

"It's not everyone who died who comes here anyway."

"It's not?"

"We all have something in common."

"A violent death."

"Yeah. None of us just faded away." Her voice was as flat as ever, but John's thoughts drifted to the children who ran around... Violent deaths...

"So, I will be able to leave?"

"Eventually."

"How?" It wasn't that he didn't want to see his son, but he wasn't really living here.

"Same way as with anything; focus. It takes practice though. Some people just blink out of existence for days, months... sometimes years. I think that you can't go until you are actually ready."

"So, we just have to drift around, watching people who can't see us." He surmised.

"Not exactly. There are some families who are more connected to the mystic world than others. You get psychics, magicians, fortune tellers... Not all of them are liars."

"Huh..." he sighed. He wanted to stay in some ways. He wanted to see how Steve got along, to see if he found love, to see if he got family. He couldn't bear the idea of never finding out. He wanted to see Mary again.

It occurred to John, as they walked, that perhaps Danny Williams had some of the mystic blood in his family. There were times John was sure Williams was aware of him, but he had never been able to actually talk to him. It would have been nice to be able to give Steve a message through the man.

He continued to walk beside Keala, his mind drifting from Steve, to Mary, to Doris, to the future of the McGarrett family line.