Chapter Text
Athena Grant is not so easily shocked. As a Sergeant and a mother, she’s more than used to seeing strange, downright crazy, things and dealing with them with grace and understanding.
So when she’s told to attend a multi-agency briefing at HQ, her reaction is more akin to ‘another day at the office’ than ‘what is going on?’ Slipping into a seat beside her fellow District 13 officers, she watches two men at the front speaking to Chief Reyes. One is tall, dark and bald, while the other is shorter, pale, with an unnervingly blank expression.
Off to one side she hears someone call “Deeks!” but while the voice strikes a cord, she finds her eyes trailing the two men still, taking in their plain clothes attire.
Whatever is going on, she can tell that it isn’t good, especially when further plain clothes officers step to the front. Chief Reyes starts speaking, and her full attention is on the briefing itself, on the twisted individual at the heart of this now cross state investigation, until he mentions the two agencies involved, and her eyes begin taking in the other people beside him.
Four stand to his right, the two men from earlier along with a younger woman and another man. They’re introduced as NCIS Agents.
Then Chief Reyes gestures to the three people at his right, and Athena’s heart stops beating.
He looks older, despite only six months having passed, and gruffer, speckles of stubble dotting his cheeks and chin, but there’s no doubt that its Evan Buckley stood there. His face is impassive yet tense, an expression she’s rarely seen on him, and it sends a chill through her.
She knows that whatever the 118 did to that boy, they broke him enough to make him leave the city and yet… she wonders where the boy she’d thought of as a son had disappeared to; that cheeky smile and bright twinkle in his eyes.
The man in front of her does not share those resemblances, and her heart aches.
She misses his introduction, but it’s clear from his plain clothes attire that he’s earned the rank of Detective, something that baffles her considering how long he’s been away. He’s damn well smart enough for it, she knows that, even if the 118 had taken it for granted, but surely that’s too short a time to even be some sort of record.
It makes her wonder if there’s more to him than they’d ever known.
It makes her wonder, sadly, if they ever had known him at all.
After all, what had they actually asked about his past?
What had he actually revealed, beyond dropping out of the SEALS and bartending in Mexico?
Who was to say that either of those things were even the truth?
Her mind is spinning, and by the time the briefing ends, she finds herself walking slowly towards him, almost afraid to get too close in case he evaporates into nothing more than smoke and memory.
“Buck?”
She’s nothing less than thankful when he comes over to speak to her, and while its stilted and uncomfortable, it’s more than she ever thought she’d get. She finds out he’s been in Chicago (and made a home there, the treacherous voice in her mind whispers), vaguely recalls Reyes saying they were from CPD Intelligence and is blessed with a small smile when she says she never doubted his skills.
It’s not much, but it’s something, even if she knows there’s still this awful chasm between them.
Even if it leaves more questions than answers.
The older man, Sergeant Voight she recalls, calls over to him, pulling him back away from her, but it’s the name he uses that sends her reeling once more.
Severide?
Buck was… married?
Pain and guilt and regret start eating at her all at once, watching with detachment (like a viewer through a looking glass) as he bounds back over to his colleagues. He speaks to the Sergeant, and she can just make out the words “Grant… LAPD… knew her…” before he’s turning to the younger male, speaking so softly that Athena can’t hear. The other man pulls him into a tight hug, whispering into his ear, and despite the public environment she feels like she’s intruding.
She wonders if this was the man he’d met.
She wonders if this was his family now.
She wonders if they had any hope of regaining what they’d lost.
She wonders, and waits, and then heads upstairs with steely determination.
There was only one way she was going to get answers now, and Athena Grant never took ‘no’ for an answer.
He watches her leave with a sigh, tension melting off him as she disappears out of view. Though he’d been truthful when he’d said that it was good to see her, doing so had only brought back so many long repressed memories.
Doing so had only brought to the surface the reasons why he’d left in the first place.
Somehow his heart ached with both longing and hurt at the same time.
Voight is still looking at him, brows softly creased with concern, while Jay’s arm doesn’t move from around his shoulder, keeping Evan pulled into one side.
“We got you, kid.” Voight says.
Jay nods. “Always.”
Slowly, Evan smiles. “I’m good.”
They head upstairs.
He has to say that he isn’t at all surprised to see Athena already there, talking with one of the desk sergeants. Now that she knows he’s here, now that she’s scarcely less than a few floors away from him, he’s certain she’s going to do everything she can to stick to him like glue.
Part of it warms him, the feeling that she still cares enough to try, and yet the other part of him wants to recoil away; to demand that he be afforded the same space he had in Chicago.
In the space of a few minutes, it’s like he’s being torn in two by the city that already ripped him to shreds.
He does his best to walk past her without a glance, following Voight and Jay into a side room marked ‘CPD’. The room is already set up with computers, a set of whiteboards and markers, and several printed files they sent over before making the journey.
One of the chairs is already occupied by a young woman who introduces herself as “Anabelle Hearsh. Ana will do fine.”
“Seeing as Jin’s in Chicago.” Voight says. “I asked LAPD to borrow one of their analysts.”
“I’m the best in my division.” Ana says, smiling at them. “I’ll do everything I can to help you bring these guys down.”
Voight nods. “The first thing we need is an APB out on Young. Any info connected to him, any potential sightings, we need to know.”
“Got it.” She says, and begins typing rapidly.
“In the meantime,” Voight turns to Jay and Evan, “we need to be hitting the ground hard on any potential drug rings in the city that might be being used by Young. These bodies don’t fit in with the cartel, and I have a feeling Young’s just using them for finance.”
“Where do you want us?” Jay asks.
“I want you two to scour the south side. I’m gonna take the north. Any CI’s you both got here, use them.”
Which is how he then finds himself traveling to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, two squad cars behind them, Athena Grant in one.
He’d wanted nothing more than to say no when they’d exited their case room to find Athena stood there, hands on her hips, demanding to be one of their Squad Units. But deep down he knew that she’d find a way to be around him regardless, and this way he held all the cards.
This way, he had control.
They pull up a block away from the entrance, sliding quickly from their car and approaching the four uniformed officers with them.
“Whether or not these guys are involved, they are likely to be dangerous.” Jay says, as Evan checks his service weapon. “Whatever you do, do not engage with them. We approach cautiously. We’re not here to bust them, not today anyway. We just need to know if they’re involved with Young.” He checks his own weapon, then nods. “Ready?”
The four officers nod. He meets Evan’s gaze for a brief moment, and then they’re moving. They take up positon on either side of the doorway, the two Detectives moving in sync as always.
Jay knocks, waiting for movement. Sure enough, a small hatch slides open, before the person behind it swears and shouts “cops!”
Evan is quick to intervene before they end up in too sticky a situation. “We just want to talk, that’s all!”
The person scoffs. “Sure, you do.”
Jay rolls his eyes. “We’re not here for you, but we’re hoping you might have some information we’re after.”
There’s a pause, and then, “what kind of information?”
“About a man.”
“And how much you payin’?”
“Depends on how much you know.” Evan says, taking a cautious step away from the wall, just enough so that he can hold a picture of Young in front of the hatch. “Do you know this man?”
There’s another swear, and then the hatch slams shut. Hackles raised, both Evan and Jay exchange glances before moving in a form they’ve used so many times.
Jay covers his partner, sparing just a moment to tell the uniforms to take cover themselves, while Evan crashes open the door with one swift kick.
The immediate hail of bullets they’re met with tells them all they need to know, as are the piles of heroin that litter the warehouse innards.
Evan ducks inside, taking quick cover behind a container and sending back his own barrage of fire to cover Jay’s entrance.
They make quick work of several of the crew, while others take the low road and decide to run. Without enough man power to make chase, Evan simply moves out from the other side of the container, sending one bullet straight into a single man’s leg.
He crashes to the floor with a groan.
The only man left in the warehouse alive, he is rewarded with a free trip to the LAPD HQ, and both Evan and Jay are nothing if not generous with their customer service. Roughly dragging his arms behind him, they’ve been with Voight long enough to forgo Miranda rights. Instead, Evan lands a swift punch to the man’s jaw.
“Buck!” Athena yells, shocked by the tactic and specifically from it coming from someone who had always been jokingly referred to as the golden retriever of the 118.
“Where’s Young?!” Evan growls, and his voice is so eerily similar to Voight’s that even Jay has to supress a little shudder. Still, he lets his partner work.
“I SAID WHERE’S YOUNG?!”
The man spits up at Evan.
It’s the wrong move.
The next punch is to the side of his head, sending the man’s brain spinning and his eyes seeing stars.
“I…” The man groans, spitting out blood. “I ain’t tellin’ you nuthin.”
Evan swears, yanking him up and shoving him into Jay’s waiting grip. “Let’s get him to Voight.”
Athena can only watch as the boy she knew seemingly slips further and further away, the dark shadow on his face nothing less than menacing.
Clearly Evan as a cop was a far cry from Evan as a firefighter, and the Detective was not someone to be trifled with.
If only that fact didn’t just break her heart in two.
They send two bricks of the heroin to the crime lab to be looked at in case the compounds found in the victims were also present in the bricks. It would be further evidence that this specific drug syndicate both know and are working with Young.
It would be one step closer to catching him.
For now they’re given an interrogation room to tie the man up in, and no-one bats an eyelid when Voight says he’s going in their alone.
No-one questions the cries that echo from the crack in the door.
No-one except Athena that is.
Her brow is furrowed, eyes sad, mouth pursed into a straight line as she approaches Evan. He knows that face, but for the first time in his life he doesn’t feel affected by it. He knows they’re doing the right thing, even if Voight’s methods are somewhat unorthodox.
“That man is still a human being.” She says.
“He’s a criminal.” Evan counters. “With likely links to someone who has done far worse to many more.” He doesn’t need to tell her about the victims; the pictures of what the drug had done to their insides. He’s sure she already knows.
Athena shakes her head. “What happened to you, Buckaroo?”
“I grew up.” He says simply. “And it’s Detective Severide. Buckley’s my past and one I’d rather forget.”
She flinches visibly, and for a moment he feels bad, but then… who was she to lecture him, after the emotional whiplash he’d received at the hands of her husband and his team? Who was she to say who he should and shouldn’t be?
“You’ll always be Buck to me.”
Evan turns away from her as he sees Jay approaching. “Then you’re waiting for someone who is dead and gone.”
He brushes past her to his partner. “Nothing yet. Voight’s still working on him.”
Jay looks grim. “We just got word of two more vics found on the west coast beaches. Holidaymakers, it seems, or at least posing as.”
“From where?”
“Hawaii.”
Evan pushes out a heavy breath, raking his hands through his hair. His badge seems to weigh heavy on his hip. “Voight’s not gonna like this.”
“I know.” Jay takes a moment to let his gaze roam over his partner, taking in pale complexion and sullen eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Evan says curtly, aware of Athena’s eyes still on him.
“You talk to Kelly? Your phone was going off in the car like crazy.”
He’d spent most of the trip over berating himself for how they’d handled the bust – over how many people had gotten away. He shrugs. “He worries. I’d rather tell him nothing than lie.”
“Asking Kelly Severide not to worry about you is like asking a bear not to maul.” Jay says with a soft grin. “It can be done but it’s not likely.”
“Like he doesn’t run into burning buildings every day.” Evan replies.
“And you didn’t?”
Evan’s gaze darkens for a brief moment, flicking back to Athena. “I had family to back me up. At least… I thought I did.”
Jay glances over his shoulder at Athena, and then rests a hand on Evan’s arm, bringing him back. “So does he, and you still do.” He squeezes softly, thankful when a small smile catches Evan’s lips.
“Thanks Jay.”
“Anytime, bro.”
The moment is broken all too quickly by the appearance of Voight, knuckles bruised and blood staining his collar. “Young met with them this morning and then was off. According to this guy, he wasn’t staying in LA.”
Evan meets Jay’s look, a silent conversation passing between them, and then looks to his Sergeant. “I know where he went.”
The palace was quiet for a Monday.
No new cases had popped up, leaving the Hawaii Five-0 team time to catch up on paperwork and just generally take a little breather. The past few weeks had been one thing after another, and no more so than for Detective Danny Williams, who also had a custody battle and wedding planning to contend with.
For that moment though, nothing required his attention, and that allowed him to sink further into the comfy black chair at his desk and have a minute for himself.
That is, until his phone starts ringing.
“Williams.”
“Danno?” The voice on the other end is one he recognises immediately, and the fact that they’ve called immediately has him on edge.
“Cub?”
There’s a short laugh at the nickname, enough to settle his stomach and ease the sudden pressure that had constricted his chest. Then;
“I need Five-0.”