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Chapter Text

Los Angeles. 

11:47 pm  

Buck’s POV

Buck stares at the envelope like it might jump out and bite him.

The envelope looks plain enough to be harmless usual white and standard. It looks innocent enough, but he can’t push down the dread building up inside of him.

He’s barefoot in sweats, hair still wet from the shower, hand still damp from running it through his hair as he turns the envelope over. There’s no return address that he can see just a government seal printed on the top left corner and a single block of text where his name stares up at him in bold unforgiving font 

Evander Rhys Buckley.

UNITED STATES NAVY - PERSONAL COMMAND

Official Reactivation Order

To: Evander Rhys Buckley

From: Chief of Naval Personnel 

Subject: Reactivation to Active Service - IMMEDIATE DEPLOYMENT

Mr. Buckley,

You are hereby directed to return to active duty under authority granted by U.S. Code, Section xxx. This recall has been authorized in response to an operational shortfall requiring personnel with completed Naval Special Warfare training.

You are to report No Later Than 0600 Hours, to the nearest operational Naval installation for immediate deployment processing. Transportation, lodging, and assignment briefing will be coordinated upon arrival. 

All prior documentation, including training certifications and discharge papers, are to be presented for record confirmation. Clearence status will be verified upon reporting.

This recall is considered Active Deployment Status until further notice. Failure to acknowledge or comply with the terms of this order within prescribed time period may result in disciplinary or administrative action.

This order remains in effect until rescinded by the Department of the Navy.

Respectfully, 

Jonathan L. Greaves

By order of the secretary of the Navy

He blinks. Reads it again. Reads it three times, front and back, like maybe it’ll start saying something different if he stares hard enough. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

“Nope,” he mutters aloud, setting it down like it might explode. “No, no, nope, нет, no–” 

He circles the Loft like pacing will change the contents or snap him out of the nightmare he seemed to have fallen into. Like movement will undo his horror at the situation. But the envelope stays exactly where he had set it down, taunting him with the weight of failures he’d thought he’d outgrown.

He’s not supposed to be on any list. Let alone the reserves. He left before qualification. Walk away even when the instructors said he was a natural and that he could make his country proud.

He hasn’t thought about that part of his life in years – the version of himself that ran five miles before breakfast and disassembled rifles like it was second nature. The version that was fast tracking toward a real SEAL team until he walked out because turning his emotions off wasn’t a skill he wanted to master. He didn’t want to become another man trained to end things without ever asking any questions. 

And now here it is – a government issued ghost of a life he never wanted to think about again. He thought he’d put this behind him and that he could move on and forget.

Apparently the Navy disagreed. He deadpanned in his mind, huffing out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“You were always meant for this life, Rhys.” a voice from the past echoes.

His stomach flips. This isn’t like the time he accidentally got jury duty four counties away because the DMV can’t spell.

This is the Military a whole new level of dangerous. 

This is a deployment where his life could be taken from him in an instant. 

He runs a hand down his face. His brain cycles through every possible explanation – clerical error, name mix-up, fake mail. Hell, maybe it’s some kind of screwed up prank.

But he knows it can't be. Not with his full name listed. No one would be stupid enough to try and fake a Deployment order.

“This can’t be real,” he mutters, even though it’s too official to be anything else.

____________________________________________________________

Buck stares at his phone for longer than he wants to admit. Okay so he may need help. He grabs his phone, thumb hovering over his contacts. There is only one person who might know how to fix this. 

Steve McGarret.

Last time they spoke was… what? 6 years ago? Maybe more.

He doesn’t even know if Steve has the same number.

Buck taps it anyway. If anyone knows what this means, It’s the guy who did cross the finish line. The guy who kept going and was damn good at it.

It rings twice before–

“McGarrett.” A gruff voice answers. He sounds on edge– maybe he’s on a case.

“Hey. Uh – It’s Buck- Uh Rhys.”

“Rhys.” A pause. Then, a smile can be heard in his voice. “Didn’t expect to hear from you. Everything okay?” 

“That depends. Does getting reactivated slash activated into the Navy count as, okay?”

Silence. Then–

“You’re not serious.”

“Deadass.”

He tries to keep the edge out of his voice, but it slips in. He’s never liked sounding uncertain. It makes him feel 17 again – back when he was a boy trying on boots that never quite felt right.

“You didn’t finish BUD/S.”

“Yeah, tell that to the letter in my hand, Steve.”

Buck hears movement– a sharp inhale, the scuff of boots against gravel. Steve’s voice doesn’t come back right away. Steve’s voice is heard but not close enough to the phone to be decipherable then– 

“Read it to me.”

___________________________________________________________

Steve’s POV

Hawaii.

8:50 pm 

Steve is crouched behind a car, squinting through dusk light at the warehouse across the street. Gun holstered– for now. Radio clipped to his vest. Chin’s voice crackles through his earpiece:

“Suspect’s still inside. We’ve got eyes on two exits.”

Steve scans the perimeter again. Slow, calm, focused.

Until his phone buzzes from its place in his pocket. He pulls it out and glances at the screen.

Unknown Number. 

He never usually answers unknowns while in the middle of a mission. But something crawls up his spine. A gut-level twitch he can’t ignore.

“McGarrett.”

“Hey. Uh– It’s Buck- Uh Rhys.”

He stiffens slightly– not just at the voice, but at the timing. Rhys doesn’t just call for nothing. Still– he can’t help the smile he feels growing on his face. 

“Rhys. Didn’t expect to hear from you. Everything okay?”

“That depends. Does getting reactivated slash activated into the Navy count as, okay?”

Steve’s heart immediately drops before quickly speeding up into unhealthy levels, he can feel the automatic smile fading from his face. The mission fades into the background like fog being pulled away by the wind.

“You’re not serious.”

“Deadass.”

Steve’s already moving, Stepping back, signaling one of the field agents to position. He ducks into the shadows behind a utility pole, away from the ongoing op.

“You didn’t finish BUD/S.”

“Yeah, tell that to the letter in my hand, Steve.”

There’s no humor in Rhys’ voice. None of his usual flair or brightness. Just exhaustion, disbelief, and fear. And just by hearing that Steve’s already mentally flipping through contacts. Military command. One friend at Naval Personnel Command. A lawyer. Anyone.

“Read it to me.”

He listens in silence as Buck recites the letter. Every word confirms what he dreads most – this isn’t a prank. 

This is real.

____________________________________________________________

Buck’s POV 

Buck finishes reading the order aloud and drops it onto the counter like it's radioactive. 

“It says I’m shipping out in two weeks, Steve.”

“You’re not.”

“I don’t think that’s up to me right now.”

“It might not be concrete; we can work this out.”

And that stops Buck in his tracks. The way Steve says we. 

“How bad is this?” Buck asks, his voice low.

“Bad enough I need to call in favors. Good enough that if you really want out, I might be able to make it happen.”

“I didn’t really want in when I signed up years ago.”

“You almost did, once. I know you did.”

Buck exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. Steve always had a way of cutting straight to the things he wants to keep buried most.

“I was good at it,” Buck admits. “Good enough that it scared me.” 

Steve’s quiet for a moment.

“Yeah,” he finally says. “You were.”

Steve’s POV

The building behind him has gone quiet now. His team can handle the rest. Yet Steve stays crouched behind the car, mind halfway across the ocean now.

Steve lowers the phone and breathes out heavily through his nose. He remembers Evander Rhys Buckley at nineteen – fierce, defiant, raw talent under too many layers of vulnerability. He’d cared too much about people. That’s what really had made him dangerous.

Not because he was weak. Because he’d fight harder for others than he ever would for himself.

It was also the reason he'd left.

Steve’s jaw tightens.

“We’ll fix this,” he says again, quieter now.

And at this moment he means it.

Because if Rhys' name is on a deployment list?

Then Steve’s name is going on it too.

Chapter Text

Buck’s POV 

LAX Airport. Terminal 6.

12:19 PM, 6 Hours later.

The thing about being reactivated into the Navy when you never technically served is… it makes zero goddamn sense.

There’s definitely no training manual titled

 “So, you walked away from the SEALs and now the Navy is calling tugging you back like a disobedient dog on a leash.”   

No hotline to call. 

No real way to tell them “Hey, I ran away from this as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my heels when things got too serious – this is also definitely illegal.” 

You just get an envelope with a letter and a deadline you didn’t ask for that is way too soon.

Buck leans against the airport window, eyes locked on the wing of the plane waiting at the gate. He’s been here for hours, legs cramped, and twitchy with nerves. There’s a duffel bag at his feet, but not much inside, just a few basics in case Steve can’t fix this and he ends up being thrown into the nearest military transport.

He hasn’t told anyone. Not Maddie. Not Bobby and Athena. Not even Eddie. He just can't do it; it makes it too real.

What would he even say? “Remember how I almost became a SEAL but dropped out because I refused to shut off the part of me that feels things?” Surprise– the Navy didn’t get the memo.” 

When they’d spoken on the phone, Steve hadn’t sounded overly shocked over the initial dropping of the bomb – just pissed.

Steve had immediately got to work.

“Fly out. I’ll meet you at the airport make sure to bring the paperwork.”

Buck stayed silent a moment and gave his phone an incredulous look from where he had it on speaker in front of him.

“You think this can be fixed?”

“I think it shouldn’t have happened. That’s a good start.”

Now boarding is called. Buck sighs and grabs his bag.

Hawaii here he comes he thinks dryly. 

____________________________________________________________

Steve’s POV

Honolulu International Airport.

6:48 pm 

Steve spots Rhys before Rhys sees him – broad shoulders, grey hoodie, mussed curly hair, a duffel strapped across his back. His jaw is set. His hair is a mess – like he’d run his fingers through it too many times. Overall, he looks like a man walking to his own funeral.

“Your flights here early,” Steve says once they’re close enough to speak.

“You said come fast.” Buck tries to joke but it falls flat.

Steve gives a nod and makes a ‘hand it over’ gesture with his hand before they even get moving. Buck pulls the envelope from his bag like it might grow teeth and suddenly lunge at him at any moment.

“Here. Fresh from the Navy’s lovely and totally not broken system.”

Ignoring the snark Steve flips it open and skims it as they walk toward the garage. He’s already scanning for anything that could be exploited– loopholes, contradictions, anything to prove that this is a mistake instead of a genuine deployment.

“You bring your DD-214?” Steve asks.

“Didn’t get one. I never made it that far.”

Steve glances over. “Right. You left before graduation.”

“As soon as BUD/S was over I was back on the road.”

Steve’s mouth tightens. “Which means this is worse than just a mistake and if we aren't able to fix it you could be in a serious amount of danger.”

“So, I shouldn’t have pack a uniform?” 

“You don’t even own one.”

“Then this’ll be quick, right?”

Steve doesn’t have an answer for that.

____________________________________________________________

Buck’s POV 

Five-0 Headquarters.

Two hours later. 

The building looks like it belongs to a billionaire tech startup, not a task force that deals with murders and military red tape. Buck steps inside beside Steve, scanning everything. The touch screen war table, the glass walls, the different rooms that look like offices. The whole place smells like coffee with an undertone of gunpowder. Based on what he sees Buck has a feeling only competent people are allowed work here.

Which is why the icy stare that greets him at the top of the stairs feels especially sharp.

“Let me guess,” says a man in a button up and tie with the sleeves rolled up and top button undone, arms crossed. “You’re the newest addition to McGarrett’s Band of Broody Ex- Somethings?”

“Danny,” Steve says, warning clear in his voice.

Buck smiles politely– if not a bit strained.

“Actually, I was never anything official when around Steve. So technically not an ex-anything.”

“Even better,” Danny mutters, looking him up and down like he’s scanning for weapons or weakness.

“Buck, this is Detective Danny Williams,” Steve says, clearly trying to cut off the tension. Never let it be said that Steve was subtle. “Danny, this is Evander Rhys Buckley.”

“I go by Buck now,” Buck adds. “And don’t worry I'm not here to cause trouble. More like get out of it.”

“That’s what they all say,” Danny replies dryly. “Usually right before something explodes or Steve gets shot.”

There’s a beat of silence before Chin walks in, followed by Kono. Chin nods at Buck, polite but watchful.

“He the one you were talking about, The ghost?” Chin asks Steve.

“That’s one way to put it,” Steve mutters.

“What the hell does that mean?” Buck asks.

“It means we pulled your name through a few internal systems,” Kono says. 

“It’s flagged in two places – one under uncompleted SEAL training, and once under a reserve call-up list.”

“I was never reserve,” Buck says firmly.

“Which is what makes this so weird,” Steve says, voice sharper now. “Someone never closed your training file. And then someone else – probably a clerk or newbie who didn’t double check – funneled that file into the wrong database.”

“And now you’re on a list to deploy with people who think you’re fully cleared,” Chin unhelpfully adds.

“Jesus,” Buck mutters. “So, it’s identity fraud via incompetence?”

“Basically,” Steve replies. “But it won’t matter once the deployment clock starts ticking. The system doesn’t care who you really are.”

“That’s comforting.”

Danny’s POV 

He watches all of it unfold like someone who’s seen this movie before – twice. It never ends well.

Steve, standing a little too close to the ex-SEAL-who-wasn’t. Steve, already pulling strings. Already pacing and already too invested.

Danny crosses his arms tighter.

“You’re really going all in on this one, huh?”

“It’s not about going in,” Steve says without looking at him. “It’s about fixing an error before it screws someone who doesn’t deserve it. He doesn't deserve to have his life risked over a mistake.”

“Right,” Danny says. “Because it’s definitely not about the fact that you collect broken soldiers like stray dogs.”

Steve’s jaw twitches.

“He’s not broken.”

“Yet.”

'Buck' glances between them.

“Should I leave the room or let you two work this out in couples therapy?”

Danny snorts. “You think this is bad? Wait till he gets me shot again. Or decides the only way to fix this is to hang someone off another roof.”

“He’s already got the motivation for it,” Buck says, somehow, he manages to keep a deadpan face.

That gets a small smile from Steve.

Just a flicker.

But Danny sees it.

And that’s what really pisses him off.

Steve is already invested and involved there’s no way he will drop this.

____________________________________________________________

Steve’s POV 

War Room 

45 Minutes later. 

The screen glows in a soft blue as data scrolls past. Steve swipes across the interface like he’s physically trying to peel back layers of bad code with his fingers. Rhys stands off to the side arms crossed mostly silent but visibly restless. His hair frizzing up slightly from repeatedly running his fingers through it.

Chin’s working on the backend of the system, and Kono’s leaning on the desk beside him, chewing on a pen cap like she’s imagining it’s whoever did this.

Whoever put Rhys- no.  'Buck's life in danger.

“Found it,” Chin says finally, tone grim. “Someone pulled his training file to use for a contractor eligibility check three years ago. Looks like they accidentally marked it “complete” in the system. When that happened, it automatically pushed him into the ready-reserve database.”

“Wait,” Buck frowns. “So I got drafted because someone messed up three years ago?”

“No,” Chin says. “You got drafted because the system double-confirmed it this year when they matched your name to a shortage in a specific unit type.”

“And nobody thought to see if I was even in the Navy?”

“Automated,” Steve mutters. “Goddamn it.”

He rubs a hand over his mouth, thinking.

“I can try to get this reversed. But it’s going to take more than just a few phone calls to their tech department. I need a backchannel letter from Naval Personnel Command, plus a civilian legal rep to prove you were never sworn in.”

“And until then?” Buck asks.

“Until then,” Steve says, “We make backup plans.”

Buck’s POV

Back hallway outside war room.

Buck doesn’t want to say he’s tired. Because he’s not. Not physically at least. This is the calm kind of wired where the body knows something’s about to go sideways even if the brain’s still playing catch up.

He leans back against the wall and watches the others from a distance.

Steve looks like he hasn’t blinked in twenty minutes. Every time his fingers pause, his jaw clenches. Every so often he glances at Buck like he’s checking to make sure Buck didn't get nabbed and thrown into a Military vehicle in the five seconds since he last checked. Or checking for a mental breakdown.

There isn’t one. Not yet anyway.

But it’s a close thing.

“You don’t have to try this hard,” Buck says finally, quiet enough for only Steve to hear. “You could’ve just said “sucks to be you” and let me bite the bullet.”

Steve’s eyes flick up.

“You think I’m doing this out of what– Pity?”

“I honestly don't know why you are putting so much effort into this. We both know I'm not getting out of this.”

Steve doesn’t deny it his silence confirmation enough.

“I walked away,” Buck says. “I don’t deserve this much effort.”

“You walked away because you couldn’t turn it off,” Steve replies. “That’s not a weakness, That’s a strength.”

Buck doesn’t respond. Just stares silently at the floor.

That wasn't what he was talking about leaving behind. 

____________________________________________________________

Danny’s POV

Parking lot

Later that night. 

Steve’s leaning against the hood of his truck, tapping away at his phone, no doubt emailing someone with a terrifying subject line like “ URGENT: Deployment Reversal, Unlawful Activation, Immediate Action Required.”

Danny steps up beside him, coffee in hand.

“So… just gotta ask. You planning on going all in on this one too?”

Steve doesn’t look up.

“You think this is me being what– reckless?” 

“I think I’ve seen this movie before. Except the last time it starred Nick Taylor and ended with a bullet to your shoulder and a knife in the back.”

Steve stiffens. Doesn’t speak for a second.

“This isn’t like that.”

“No? Because from where I’m standing, this looks like Nick Taylor all over again. Another SEAL with a dark look in his eyes and a file full of ghosts– and you stepping in like it’s your job to fix them.”

Steve’s voice stays low.

“Buck never served. He didn’t get that far. He walked away before it could make him like Nick.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t become him. Especially if he goes through this now.”

Steve looks away.

“It’s not the same.”

“You’re right,” Danny says. “Because you didn’t look at Nick like that.”

Steve doesn’t respond. Can’t. He just stares out into the distance, jaw tight. Choosing silence over attempting to dissuade Danny from that line of thinking.