The night air on the Walker Ranch carried the scent of mesquite smoke and dry summer grass. Out beyond the main house, crickets hummed and a windmill squeaked somewhere in the dark. Beau Walker sat on the tailgate of his old Ford Bronco, boots planted in the packed dirt, a guitar resting against his thigh. Zeus, his Belgian Malinois, lay nearby with his head on his paws, amber eyes fixed on every flicker of movement.
It had been only three weeks since Beau had rotated home from his last SEAL deployment. For the first time in years, the ranch felt almost too quiet. No radios crackling, no teammates joking across a hot landing zone, no ocean spray during night dives — just the slow rhythm of horses in the pasture and the sound of his father's boots on the porch. He'd promised himself a few months of peace before deciding whether to re-up or move to the Reserves. He'd rebuilt fences, worked cattle, and taken long rides until the restlessness in his chest dulled but never left.
The screen door banged. John Walker stepped out, phone pressed to his ear. Even in his late fifties, John still carried himself like the Navy SEAL he'd once been: broad-shouldered, sharp-eyed, and deliberate in every move. He wore an old ballcap faded by sun and years of missions Beau had only heard stories about.
"Yeah, Joe," John said quietly, pacing the porch. "Been a long time… I heard. Damn shame… No, I can't leave the ranch right now — Beth's folks need help with the herd. But listen… I've got someone."
Beau frowned, set the guitar aside. Zeus's ears pricked at the change in his master's posture.
John spotted him and gestured him over. Beau stood, dusted his jeans, and crossed the yard.
"Evenin', Dad."
John covered the receiver. "Joe White. Old teammate. He's in Hawai'i. One of ours — Steve McGarrett — is in deep trouble. Framed, locked up. Joe needs backup."
Beau didn't ask for details. When John Walker said "one of ours," that was enough. "What do you need me to do?"
"Pack light but pack for work. Your Bronco can ride cargo; Zeus too. Joe'll meet you when you land. You don't know these men, but they're family by the Trident." John's eyes softened for just a second. "Son… this is the kind of call you answer."
Beau gave a single nod. "Yes, sir."
There was no drama about it. Just a switch flipped inside him — the same one that had turned a Texas quarterback into a Navy officer at eighteen. He glanced at Zeus. "Hear that, boy? We're headed to the islands."
Zeus leapt up, tail sweeping once, eyes bright with anticipation.
John lowered the phone. "He's in. Wheels up at oh-seven hundred. You'll meet Joe White at Hickam."
"Roger that." Beau reached for his father's hand; John pulled him in for a brief, bone-tight hug.
"You don't owe me explanations, Beau," John said quietly. "You owe the brotherhood. Help that man. Trust Joe. Trust yourself."
Beau only nodded. The old-fashioned code they both lived by didn't need more words.
Packing was methodical. Beau pulled his Stetson from its stand — an expensive felt hat, well-kept but weathered from ranch life — and set it beside his SEAL-issue gear: plate carrier, rifle case, sidearms, a few carefully wrapped knives and tomahawks. He tucked in plain clothes: jeans, tactical pants, boots. On top he laid the SEAL ballcap he'd wear if things got hot. For most days, the cowboy hat stayed.
Zeus watched every move, vibrating with work-mode energy. Beau knelt to clip on the dog's harness: desert tan with subdued trident and Texas star patches.
"You're back on duty, buddy."
The Bronco was ready: custom lift, winch, snorkel, KC lights. Beau checked every tie-down, every tool. Years of deployments had made him meticulous.
Inside, Beth hugged him long and tight. "You always come home to help strangers, Beau?"
"They're not strangers," he said softly. "Not when Dad says they're family."
She smiled sadly. "Be careful. And call."
"I will, Mom."
Maggie called over video from Dallas, teasing: "Going tropical, little brother? Don't get sunburned." Colt, now twenty-one and restless, hollered from the background: "Bring me back a surfboard!"
Beau just shook his head, grinning faintly. "We'll see."
Before dawn, father and son loaded the Bronco onto a flatbed headed to the airfield. Zeus sat in the passenger seat as if he owned it, tongue lolling. The horizon glowed faint pink.
John leaned on the truck door. "You're not done figuring out life after the Teams, huh?"
"Guess not," Beau admitted. "But maybe this'll show me where I belong."
"Wherever you end up, keep the code. Help brothers, protect the innocent, stay humble." John's voice dropped. "And remember you're a Walker. Cowboys don't quit."
Beau grinned under the brim of his hat. "Yes, sir."
They clasped hands, old-school. Then Beau climbed into the cab beside Zeus and drove toward the airstrip, taillights glowing against the Texas dawn.
IN FLIGHT – HOURS LATER
The cargo plane hummed steady. Beau sat with Zeus at his feet, laptop open to intel packets Joe had emailed mid-flight: Steve McGarrett, Navy Commander turned task force head, accused of killing Governor Jameson; Wo Fat suspected but untouchable.
Beau scanned the file, jaw tight. SEAL framed, political mess, corrupt cops. Ugly but familiar. He rubbed Zeus's ears, voice low. "Looks like we're diving in blind, bud. Just how we like it."
Zeus thumped his tail, sensing the edge in his handler's tone.
Beau leaned back, thinking about how fast life shifted: one night fixing fences, next morning en route to a new war. But this felt right. His father had taught him: you answer when the brotherhood calls.
EXT. HICKAM AIRFIELD – OʻAHU – AFTERNOON
Humidity slapped him the moment the cargo bay opened. Beau eased the Bronco down the ramp, boots crunching tarmac. Sun hit the Stetson's brim; Zeus bounded out, nose working the unfamiliar scents of salt and jet fuel.
A silver-haired man in civvies waited: JOE WHITE. Weathered face, calm authority. They'd never met, but something about Joe screamed SEAL.
"Beau Walker?" Joe asked.
"Yes, sir. My dad said you needed help. Figured that was enough."
Joe's mouth curved into a small, approving smile. "John Walker's boy. He always was old school. Glad you came."
They shook hands — brief, firm. Zeus sat perfectly at Beau's heel.
"McGarrett's in Halawa. Wo Fat's pulling strings. We're gonna need eyes, guns, and a little luck."
Beau adjusted his hat, glanced at Zeus. "We brought both."
Joe chuckled. "Let's get you briefed."
The humidity hit harder once Beau and Joe rolled off the airfield and onto the highway that snaked toward Honolulu. The Bronco rumbled with a deep, throaty growl; Zeus sat upright in the passenger seat harness, nose twitching as palm trees flicked past. The truck looked out of place among the compact cars and surf vans — desert-tan steel and Texas plates cutting a bold silhouette against the ocean horizon.
Joe rode shotgun, arms folded, eyes studying Beau as if measuring him for weight and worth. He'd been quiet since they'd left Hickam.
"You didn't ask many questions," Joe finally said.
Beau glanced over, one hand loose on the wheel. "Dad said a SEAL needed help. That was enough."
Joe huffed a small laugh, the kind that carried respect. "John always was a man of few words. Guess the apple didn't fall far."
"Guess not."
Traffic thinned as they reached a stretch of coast road. The Pacific shimmered blue and gold; surfers bobbed like seals beyond the reef. Beau caught himself staring. The ocean he'd known was usually cold, hostile, and lined with warships. Here it looked alive — inviting, even.
"You been to Hawaiʻi before?" Joe asked.
"Pearl a couple times when I was intel," Beau said. "Never saw more than a base and a bar."
"Well," Joe said, "you're about to see the underbelly. McGarrett's task force stepped on some big toes."
Joe popped open a battered laptop. A map of Oʻahu bloomed on screen, dotted with red pins.
"Here's the short version: Steve McGarrett — Commander, SEAL, Naval Intel before that — came home last year when his father was murdered. Governor gave him carte blanche to form a special task force: Five-0. They made enemies quick. Took down a lot of bad people. Then the Governor was assassinated and evidence planted to frame Steve."
Beau's jaw tightened. "By who?"
"Wo Fat," Joe said, voice low. "Chinese intelligence, arms dealer, ghost story for half the Pacific. He's got local cops in his pocket. The new Governor's playing it safe. Steve's locked in Halawa with half the guards bought and paid for."
"Hell of a welcome home," Beau muttered.
Joe's fingers danced on the keyboard. "I taught Steve at BUD/S. He's good, but right now he's alone. We're gonna change that."
Beau nodded slowly. The weight of the mission settled in — not battlefield loud, but dangerous all the same. Political, corrupt cops, a ghost enemy. Different kind of war, but still a war.
"What's the play?" Beau asked.
"We can't just walk him out," Joe said. "Need eyes, routes, maybe a little chaos. I have a couple old favors to call in, but we'll need to know the layout and who we can't trust."
Beau drummed fingers on the wheel. "I can run recon tonight. Zeus can scent Steve once we're close enough; he'll track through noise if I get him a scent article."
Joe looked sideways, impressed. "You travel with a K-9 like most guys pack socks?"
"Zeus is part of the team," Beau said simply. "We've done worse."
Joe chuckled. "John said you were a quiet problem-solver. Guess he was right."
They turned inland toward Kaneohe, where Joe had a safehouse tucked away in an overgrown valley. The place was spartan: a single-story concrete bungalow with reinforced doors, a small armory, and an open garage that swallowed the Bronco whole. Zeus leapt out, tail swishing, already patrolling.
Inside, Beau shed his Stetson and replaced it with a ballcap marked only with a subdued trident. His hands moved automatically as he unpacked: rifles, suppressors, night-vision, a small drone, Zeus's working harness. It felt like suiting up again after a long sleep.
Joe brewed coffee and watched. "So you really thinking about hanging it up?"
Beau shrugged, checking his suppressor's thread. "Eight years. Intel, then Teams. Enough sand, jungle, and politics to fill a lifetime. Dad keeps saying it's time to build something, not just break it."
"And yet here you are."
Beau smirked. "Old habits. And… when Dad calls, you answer."
Joe's expression softened for a moment. "Your old man saved my life once in the Gulf. Guess this is payback."
Beau didn't answer. He didn't need to.
LATER – SAFEHOUSE BRIEFING
Night draped the valley. Beau spread satellite photos across the table: Halawa Correctional Facility, access roads, guard shifts. Joe leaned over, pointing with a scarred finger.
"McGarrett's in administrative segregation, north block. Cameras every corner. Only way to him is through a service tunnel used for laundry runs."
Beau studied the grainy images. "Two-man job's risky. Guards dirty?"
"Some. Not all. Can't know who's clean."
"Then we make noise somewhere else," Beau decided. "Pull them thin. Zeus and I slip in the tunnel, you on overwatch. Extract Steve, exfil along the storm drain into the gulch here." He tapped a drainage ditch on the map. "Bronco waiting."
Joe smiled faintly. "You plan fast."
"Spent a lot of nights getting people out of worse holes."
Joe's grin turned wolfish. "You and I might get along."
TRAINING YARD – OUTSIDE
Beau worked Zeus under floodlights: German commands snapping like rifle shots. "Sitz. Bleib. Voraus." Zeus obeyed with lethal grace — sit, stay, advance. Then a low growl as Beau sent him to a decoy sleeve on a training dummy, powerful jaws clamping in silence.
Joe watched from the porch, sipping coffee, clearly impressed.
"Hell of a dog."
"Better partner than most," Beau said, scratching Zeus behind the ear. "Doesn't talk back."
Joe chuckled. "Steve's gonna love him."
LATE NIGHT – PORCH
The plan was set. Gear packed. Beau leaned on the railing, looking out at a black ocean under starlight. He'd left Texas less than twenty-four hours ago and already felt the old pulse — the mission heartbeat. He'd missed it more than he'd admitted.
But this was different. No flag briefings, no endless politics. Just a call from his father and a chance to help a brother.
Joe joined him quietly, cigar ember glowing.
"You know, most guys would've asked for details. Or said no."
Beau shrugged. "Dad taught me to keep it simple."
"Old-fashioned," Joe said.
"Best way I know."
Joe took a drag, exhaled smoke into the night. "You thinking of staying after this?"
"Don't know yet. Might be time to quit chasing deployments. Find a fight that matters."
Joe nodded slowly. "Five-0's a hell of a fight."
Beau said nothing, but his eyes stayed fixed on the dark waves, imagining what lay beyond: a prison, a trapped SEAL, a team he didn't know yet. And maybe — though he didn't realize it — the first steps toward a new home.
Zeus leaned against his leg, warm and solid, as if to say where you go, I go.
Morning broke warm and bright over the Koʻolau mountains. Beau tightened Zeus's harness and climbed into the Bronco while Joe tossed a duffel into the back seat. The two men drove toward the city, leaving the quiet valley safehouse for the traffic and color of Honolulu.
The island was a shock after Texas flatlands. Green ridges rose like shark fins against the sky, waterfalls cutting silver scars down their sides. Markets spilled color onto sidewalks; surfers strapped boards to rusted pickups. Beau let the sights soak in — part curiosity, part reconnaissance. Every new place was a map to build in his head.
"City's friendly enough," Joe said from the passenger seat. "But don't forget: Wo Fat's reach is deep. He's got HPD brass in his pocket."
Beau nodded once, eyes sweeping the road. "You think we can trust McGarrett's people?"
Joe considered. "His task force scattered after the Governor's death. Chin's still HPD. Danny's a Jersey detective turned Five-0, good cop but hates the Wild West style. Kono's a rookie — Internal Affairs hit her hard. Don't know who's clean right now. We find out as we go."
Beau didn't answer. His father's voice echoed in his mind: Be patient. Learn the ground before you move.
He glanced at Zeus, who had his head out the window, nose twitching at every salt breeze. The dog's calm steadied him.
Halawa Recon
By midmorning, the Bronco crawled along a ridge road that overlooked Halawa Correctional Facility. The massive concrete complex sprawled in the valley, high fences gleaming under the sun.
Joe handed Beau binoculars. "That's the north block. Steve's in ad-seg, top tier."
Beau studied the facility. Guard towers, razor wire, patrol patterns — the rhythms of confinement. He picked out the laundry tunnel Joe had mentioned: a service bay where trucks came and went. "Storm drain outlet's still clear," he murmured. "No grates. Good exfil point."
Joe smirked. "You spot that fast."
Beau lowered the glass. "Getting people out alive was my last job."
He scanned for security cams, counted tower rotations, watched guard posture. The men in uniform looked sloppy — distracted. Money could buy distraction.
"We'll need a scent for Zeus," Beau said.
"I can get one," Joe replied. "Steve's mom sent some of his gear before she left. Shirt's in my kit."
Beau grinned faintly. "Good. Once Zeus locks on, nothing shakes him."
Watching the Pieces
They parked in an empty lot above the city later that day to watch Danny Williams leave HPD headquarters. Danny's tie hung loose; his face was pinched with worry. He loaded paperwork into a beat-up Camaro and drove off fast, muttering into a phone.
"That's Danny," Joe said. "Steve's partner. Good cop. Right now probably trying to save Steve without backup."
Beau watched him go, filing away the Jersey energy — impatient, but loyal.
Later, from a coffee stand near Ala Moana, they spotted Chin Ho Kelly meeting quietly with an HPD contact. Chin carried himself like a man who'd been burned but kept going. Joe explained Chin's IA troubles years ago, the false corruption charges.
"Loyal to Steve," Joe said. "But the department still doesn't trust him."
Beau watched, thoughtful. "Man knows how to stand alone. That's useful."
Finally, they passed the HPD firing range where a lone female officer was running drills. Long dark hair tied back, stance strong and balanced. She reloaded with calm precision and punched a tight group into the center of her target.
"That's Kono," Joe said. "Was a rookie on Steve's team. IA came for her after the Governor's death. She's been in limbo."
Beau slowed the Bronco and watched through the fence. She didn't notice them — too focused on her shooting. He noted her smooth trigger pull, patient breathing. Young but competent. There was also something raw about her posture; anger and hurt fighting to stay contained.
"She's good," Beau said simply.
"She was one of the best surfers in Hawai'i before HPD," Joe said. "Family's police royalty, but IA shook her bad."
Beau said nothing more but filed the image away — a capable, wounded warrior. Not his problem, but familiar.
Supply Run
Before night fell, they stopped at a quiet tactical shop tucked behind an industrial block. Joe knew the owner, a retired Marine who kept quiet and stocked whatever "fishing gear" a man might need.
Beau restocked: subsonic ammo, chem lights, a few breaching charges for worst case. Joe picked up radios and local maps. The shopkeeper eyed Beau's Stetson and drawl, then at Zeus's alert gaze.
"Not from around here, huh?"
"Just visiting," Beau replied with a polite nod.
"Keep your head low," the man said. "Plenty of bad sharks in these waters."
Beau just smiled faintly. "Sharks don't bother me."
Quiet Before the Storm
That night they returned to the safehouse. Beau laid out gear in precise rows: suppressed rifle, sidearm, bolt cutters, drone, NVGs. Zeus sprawled but alert, ears flicking with every sound.
Joe sat with coffee, watching. "You always this calm before a storm?"
Beau shrugged. "Nervous gets you killed. Calm keeps you alive."
Joe's eyes softened. "You remind me of John when he was your age."
Beau didn't respond. Compliments about his father were complicated things — pride laced with the weight of living up to a legend.
"Steve doesn't know we're coming," Joe added.
"Good," Beau said. "Surprise works both ways."
"You don't wonder why he's worth it?"
Beau gave a small shake of his head. "Dad said he's a brother. That's enough."
Joe studied him for a long beat, then nodded. "Fair enough, cowboy."
Beau smirked. "Never said I was a cowboy."
Joe raised an eyebrow at the Stetson on the table. "Hat says otherwise."
Beau chuckled once. "Guess it does."
Tension Building
Later, Beau took Zeus outside for a final run. The night air was heavy with plumeria. Stars scattered bright over the dark Koʻolau cliffs.
He threw a ball down the dusty drive; Zeus sprinted after it, graceful and silent. Beau watched the dog return, tail high, and felt a rare flicker of peace. Then he thought of the man sitting in a cell tonight, alone, accused of murdering the very Governor who'd hired him. He'd never met Steve McGarrett, but he knew what it felt like to be far from home and under threat.
We'll get you out, Beau promised silently, to a man he didn't know.
He looked back at the safehouse light where Joe worked over maps. His father's old teammate — tough, calm, but worried under the surface. Beau respected that. This mission wasn't about medals or payback. It was about honor.
He turned toward the Bronco parked under a tarp, gear stowed and ready. Tomorrow they'd move. Tomorrow he'd step fully back into the warfighter's life, but this time by choice, for something that felt clean.
Zeus leaned against his leg, solid and warm. Beau scratched the dog's head, whispered, "Time to hunt tomorrow, buddy."
Zeus's tail swished once in reply.
Night fell heavy and humid over the Halawa Valley. Rain threatened but hadn't arrived; the air was thick and electric. Beau crouched beside the Bronco at the edge of a drainage gulch, ballcap pulled low, night-vision goggles hanging ready. Zeus waited silent and vibrating, dark eyes alive with purpose.
Joe was a silhouette nearby, finishing a final check of his suppressed rifle. "You ready, kid?"
Beau didn't look up from the bolt cutter in his hands. "Been ready since we landed."
Joe smirked faintly. "Just making sure you're not all hat."
Beau snorted once — the smallest smile — then tucked the cutters into his pack. "Hat's just sunshade."
Joe's grin flickered before mission focus returned. "Alright. Plan's the same. I've got overwatch from tower ridge. You and Zeus slip the drain, hit the service tunnel, find Steve's cell. I'll call the distraction when you're halfway in. Remember: some guards are dirty, some aren't — don't shoot unless you have to."
Beau gave a sharp nod. "Copy."
Joe clapped him on the shoulder — brief and firm. "Let's go bring our boy home."
Entry
The storm drain was a jagged concrete pipe half hidden by brush. Beau slid inside first, low and fast, rifle slung. Zeus followed without a sound, the dog's nose twitching. The smell of rust and damp hit hard; water lapped faintly at boots.
They moved deep into the dark. Beau's NVGs flicked on, painting the world in ghostly green. He'd spent years in tunnels like this — Afghan culverts, Somali sewers. Same stink, different island.
At a junction, he knelt and whispered the command: "Such." Zeus's ears pricked. Beau pulled a sealed plastic bag from his pack — a plain cotton T-shirt Joe had said belonged to McGarrett. He let Zeus inhale the scent.
The dog's demeanor changed instantly: head up, body taut, nose questing. Beau felt a familiar surge of trust; Zeus was locked.
"Track," Beau breathed.
Zeus surged forward into the dark.
Tunnel to Prison
They reached a rusted maintenance grate. Beau worked it loose with careful, slow pressure. Metal whined but didn't shriek — he'd greased the hinges during recon. Beyond, a narrow corridor ran along the laundry bay.
Zeus froze suddenly, ears forward. Beau followed the dog's gaze — two guards, cigarettes glowing faintly as they loitered near a loading dock. One was laughing, the other checking a phone.
Beau whispered, "Bleib." Zeus stilled. Beau slipped forward low, silent as a shadow. He skirted behind stacked carts, reached the alarm box Joe had marked. He rigged a small charge and retreated.
A click in his earpiece — Joe's low voice: "Positions?"
"In," Beau whispered.
"Copy. Making noise in three… two… one."
Distraction
A deep whump rolled from the far side of the complex — Joe had set off a car alarm and smoke charge near a vehicle lot. Shouts rose; radios crackled in rapid Hawaiian and English. The two guards cursed and bolted toward the commotion.
Beau signaled Zeus. "Voran."
They slid through the laundry bay and into the heart of the prison.
Inside Halawa
Halawa's guts were a maze of flickering fluorescents and echoing footsteps. Beau moved like he'd trained for it his whole life — controlled, rifle high but muzzle low, checking corners with mechanical precision. Zeus ghosted at his heel, nose working.
A lone guard rounded a corner and froze, hand going for his sidearm. Beau's voice cut low but calm: "Easy. Navy. Not here to hurt you."
The man hesitated — saw the trident patch, the calm rifle. Then his radio blared and he turned, muttered something about a perimeter check, and walked away fast. Beau let him go. No need to kill anyone not shooting.
They reached a locked service door. Beau knelt, tools out. A quiet snick — lock popped. Zeus stayed statue-still, watching his back.
Inside: a dim hall lined with segregation cells. Steel bars, small windows, the smell of bleach and sweat.
Zeus suddenly stiffened, head snapping left. He pulled toward one door, whining low.
Beau's heart jumped. "That him, boy?"
Zeus pressed nose to the bottom gap, tail sweeping once.
Beau stepped up to the window. Inside: a tall man, lean but powerful even in prison scrubs, sitting on his bunk with eyes like ice. Steve McGarrett.
Steve moved to the bars instantly, shock flickering across his face at the sight of a stranger in tactical gear with a dog.
"You're not HPD," Steve said quietly.
"Nope," Beau replied, voice low but steady. "Beau Walker. My dad served with Joe White. He sent me."
Steve blinked, relief and disbelief flickering. "Joe's here?"
"Watching your six. I'm getting you out."
Steve studied him for a heartbeat — then simply nodded. "Door's locked."
"Not for long."
Extraction
Beau picked the heavy lock with practiced precision, working fast but silent. Zeus sat at perfect heel, eyes scanning.
Steve watched, finally breaking the quiet. "You came all the way from Texas because Joe called your dad?"
"Dad called me. That was enough."
Steve huffed a short, surprised laugh. "Old school."
"Only way I know."
Lock clicked open. Beau swung the door, passed Steve a spare vest and suppressed sidearm from his pack.
"Can you run?" Beau asked.
Steve smirked despite the bruises. "Try me."
They slipped back the way Beau had come. Alarms whooped faintly in the distance — Joe's distraction still working. But radios now shouted confused orders. The window for quiet exfil was closing.
Contact
Two dirty guards rounded a corner too soon. One raised a shotgun. Beau's rifle barked — two precise suppressed shots dropped them before they could shout. Zeus held at heel but vibrated with focus, waiting for release.
Steve glanced down at the dog, impressed. "He doesn't bark?"
"Not unless I tell him to."
"Nice."
They hustled faster, cutting through laundry and into the storm drain just as sirens started full bore behind them.
Beau slid first, rifle up. "Go, Zeus." The dog bounded into the tunnel; Steve followed, silent but fast despite the bruises.
Joe's voice crackled in the earpiece: "I see you. Two minutes to perimeter sweep — move!"
"Moving," Beau replied.
They crawled, waded, climbed — until finally the cool night air hit their faces at the gulch exit. The Bronco waited, engine idling.
Joe was there, rifle slung, grin wide. "Nice work, Walker."
Beau helped Steve into the back. Zeus leapt in and planted himself like a furry shield.
Beau slid behind the wheel, tires chewing dirt as they disappeared into the dark just as searchlights swept the drain mouth.
First Words of Trust
Minutes later, on a deserted ridge road, Beau finally slowed. Steve leaned back against the Bronco's seat, breathing hard but alert.
"Appreciate the rescue," Steve said. "Didn't even know I had friends in Texas."
Beau tipped his ballcap slightly, half grin. "Guess you do now."
Joe clapped Steve's shoulder from the passenger seat. "Told you your dad had good taste in friends."
Steve nodded slowly, studying Beau. "Glad to have you on my six."
Beau just drove, eyes on the winding road ahead, but something in his chest eased. The mission wasn't over — Wo Fat still lurked — but he'd done what his father asked: help a brother.
Zeus shifted to lay his head on Steve's knee. Steve looked down, surprised, then smiled faintly and scratched the dog's ears.
"Good boy," Steve murmured.
"Best partner I've got," Beau said quietly.
The safehouse Joe had secured sat at the end of a narrow, overgrown lane above Kāneʻohe Bay. The Bronco's tires crunched softly on gravel as Beau pulled in well after midnight. Humidity clung to his shirt; Zeus hopped out first, scanning the perimeter before Beau even opened the door.
Joe swept the yard with a small flashlight, then clicked it off. "Clear."
Steve climbed out of the back slowly, every bruise and cracked rib protesting. He refused help, but Beau noted the tight set of his jaw as he straightened. SEAL pride—he understood it.
"You should sit," Beau said quietly.
"I'll live." Steve glanced back toward the darkness they'd come from, a soldier already calculating next moves. "We need to regroup. Wo Fat won't just let this go."
"We need to clean you up first," Joe said, clapping Steve's shoulder. "And get word to your people."
"My team's scattered," Steve said. "Danny's still around, Chin too. Kono's… IA's been on her hard."
"Then we start putting them back together," Joe answered.
Beau busied himself unloading gear: rifles to the workbench, Zeus's harness off, med kit out. He didn't intrude on their talk; this was their fight. But he listened, because a good operator always listened.
Joe pointed toward a tiny kitchen table. "Sit, Commander. Let Walker patch you up."
Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Beau was already snapping on gloves and opening antiseptic packets with the easy rhythm of someone who'd done this under worse. "No offense, but you're bleeding on my floor," Beau said.
Steve gave a ghost of a smile and sat. "You Navy corpsman too?"
"Everyone's something in the Teams," Beau answered, cleaning a gash along Steve's jaw. "I've patched my share."
For a few minutes, only the sounds of quiet work filled the room: gauze tearing, the hum of the fridge, Zeus's slow breathing at their feet.
"Appreciate the ride out," Steve said finally.
Beau met his eyes briefly, calm and steady. "You'd have done the same."
Steve studied him a long beat and then nodded once, the kind of nod men give when words are unnecessary.
Calls in the Night
When Steve could move again, he borrowed Joe's secure phone. Beau and Joe stepped outside to give him space.
"Think he'll get his people back?" Beau asked.
"He's the kind who inspires loyalty," Joe replied, lighting a cigar. "Danny's probably already climbing the walls. Chin's a rock, but IA burned him once. Kono… she's young. IA's cutting her to pieces. Might not trust herself to come back."
Beau looked out toward the dark bay. "Maybe she just needs somebody to believe in her."
Joe's eyes flicked sideways, catching the weight in Beau's tone, but he said nothing. Just puffed smoke into the humid night.
First Arrival – Danny
A little after 2 a.m., tires crunched on the lane. Zeus lifted his head, low growl rumbling until Beau murmured a command. A silver Camaro nose appeared; a blond man in a tie but no jacket climbed out fast, angry and worried at once.
"McGarrett!" Danny Williams shouted the moment the door opened, Jersey accent thick enough to cut with a knife. "Tell me this isn't another one of your insane jailbreak plans."
Steve stepped onto the porch, bandaged but standing tall. "Good to see you too, Danno."
Danny's rant cut short when he spotted Beau leaning against the Bronco, rifle slung, Zeus at heel. "And who the hell are you? Seriously, Steve—do you have a Navy SEAL vending machine somewhere?"
Beau tipped his Stetson just slightly. "Beau Walker."
"Walker…" Danny squinted. "As in Walker, Texas Ranger?"
"Texas Navy SEAL," Beau corrected mildly.
Danny threw up his hands. "Of course. You have a dog too?"
"Zeus," Beau said. "He bites."
Zeus gave a soft chuff as if on cue. Danny backed a step and glared at Steve. "You broke out of prison with Cowboy SEAL and Cujo. Perfect."
Steve, despite pain, smiled faintly. "He saved my life, Danny."
That made Danny pause, then sigh. "Fine. Cowboy can stay."
Chin Arrives
Not long after, a black sedan eased up the lane. Chin Ho Kelly stepped out, calm and watchful. His gaze swept the yard, landed on Beau, then on Zeus, and back to Steve.
"Steve," Chin said quietly, relief in his tone. "Glad you're out."
"Couldn't have done it without him," Steve said, nodding toward Beau.
Chin approached Beau, offered a firm hand. "Chin Ho Kelly."
"Beau Walker." The handshake was solid; mutual respect sparked silently.
Chin crouched briefly to offer his hand to Zeus, letting the dog sniff. Zeus accepted, tail giving one reserved wag. Chin smiled faintly. "Smart partner."
"The best," Beau replied.
Kono
The last to arrive came just before dawn: a black pickup with surf stickers but no boards. Kono Kalākaua stepped out cautiously. She looked exhausted but defiant—hair pulled back, badge clipped but jacket zipped to hide it.
Steve moved to meet her halfway down the path. "Kono."
"Boss," she said softly, then glanced past him to Beau and Zeus. Her eyes sharpened; training took over. She was assessing threat, ally, unknown.
Steve explained quickly: "Beau Walker, SEAL. Joe called his father; his father sent him."
Kono gave Beau a curt nod. "Thanks for getting him out."
Beau tipped the brim of his hat. "Just doing a job."
Her gaze lingered on Zeus for a beat—interest mixed with professional appraisal. Zeus sat perfectly still, ears forward but not aggressive. Something flickered in her expression: appreciation maybe, or the simple comfort of competence in a world that had tried to shake her.
She followed Steve inside, shoulders squared. Beau watched her go, noting strength under strain. He didn't know her story yet, but he recognized the look of someone fighting to stay standing.
Team Table
By sunrise, the kitchen table was crowded: Steve at its head, Joe beside him, Danny pacing, Chin quiet but present, Kono leaning against a counter. Beau stayed slightly apart, listening more than speaking, Zeus lying at his boots like a silent sentinel.
Steve laid out the big picture: Wo Fat, the frame job, the Governor's murder. Danny swore, Chin's jaw tightened, Kono stayed silent but eyes dark.
"We hit him back," Danny said. "Clear your name."
"Can't do it alone," Steve replied. "We need to be Five-0 again."
Kono shifted. "IA's still watching me."
Steve's gaze softened. "You didn't do anything wrong. You're still one of us."
She looked away, uncertain.
Beau's voice cut in quietly, surprising them. "IA's job is to make you doubt yourself. Don't let them. You know where you stand."
Kono looked up at him, startled. For a moment the room went still. Then Chin gave a small nod of agreement.
Steve's eyes flicked toward Beau, something like gratitude passing between operators.
Joe broke the silence. "First things first: clear Steve, prove Wo Fat's behind the Governor's hit. Then we rebuild."
Danny groaned. "Great. Another insane op."
"Wouldn't be Five-0 otherwise," Steve said.
Private Moment
When the plan session broke, Beau stepped outside to give the team space. The porch was cool in the morning breeze. Zeus leaned against his leg.
A moment later, the door creaked and Kono stepped out. She held a mug of coffee but didn't drink. For a while they just stood, watching the bay turn gold.
"You're quiet," she said finally.
"Listen more than I talk," Beau replied.
"Smart." She sipped, studied him sideways. "Thanks… for what you said in there."
"True words don't need thanks," Beau said simply.
She looked back at the water, jaw tight. "IA made me feel like maybe I don't belong here."
"You do," Beau said, no hesitation.
She blinked, then gave the smallest smile. "You don't even know me."
"Know the look of a good cop who's been burned," he said. "Seen it a lot."
Something softened in her eyes. She nodded once, finished the coffee, and went back inside. Beau watched her go, expression unreadable but thoughtful.
Zeus nudged his knee. Beau scratched the dog's head, murmuring, "Yeah, I know. Trouble ahead."
By the second night after the breakout, the safehouse felt too small to contain the energy in it. McGarrett's name was still all over the news — escaped murder suspect, armed and dangerous. Wo Fat's allies were feeding leaks, HPD brass were embarrassed, and the Governor's office was already threatening a manhunt.
Steve ignored the headlines. He sat at the table with a laptop and paper files spread like a battle map. "Wo Fat's next move will be to make me disappear for good. We get ahead of him, we prove the frame, or I spend the rest of my life hunted."
Chin slid an evidence file across to him. "Kamekona says a shipment of Chinese small arms came in through Kalihi pier yesterday. Could be Wo Fat's people moving fast while you're on the run."
Danny groaned. "Fantastic. Illegal guns. Perfect way to make you look like you're stocking up for a war."
Steve nodded grimly. "We hit that shipment tonight. Quiet and clean. If we seize it, we link it back to Wo Fat's pipeline."
Joe leaned back, eyes on Beau. "Walker?"
Beau, who had been silent until now, straightened. "Pier ops are dirty. Limited cover. If they know you're coming, you'll be boxed in fast."
Steve's gaze was sharp but open. "Suggestions?"
"Two-team approach," Beau said. "Chin and I on overwatch with rifles. You, Danny, Kono hit the container yard. Zeus runs detection — he can sweep for explosives or ambush."
Kono looked up at the dog at her feet. Zeus, sensing attention, lifted his head and wagged his tail once. For the first time since Beau had met her, Kono's mouth curved in something close to amusement. "He's quiet?"
"Only when he needs to be loud," Beau said.
Steve glanced at Joe, got a small nod, then turned back. "Alright. Cowboy, you're in."
Danny threw his hands up. "Of course he is. We're just handing badges out like party favors now?"
"Not yet," Steve said, but there was a trace of a smile. "But he's SEAL-qualified and has saved my life already. That's enough for tonight."
Preparing to Move
As dusk fell, the yard turned into an improvised staging area. Steve swapped his prison scrubs for tactical gear; Kono changed into black cargo pants and a vest, hair tied back tight. Chin loaded long rifles. Danny muttered darkly while checking his Glock.
Beau prepped Zeus with methodical calm — tactical vest, night cam, ear protection. He knelt, pressed his forehead briefly to the dog's. "Work time, buddy."
Zeus's whole body vibrated with readiness.
Kono lingered nearby, curiosity outweighing reticence. "He really understands German?"
"Commands and search cues," Beau said, tightening a strap. "Keeps bad guys guessing."
Kono crouched, letting Zeus sniff her hand. The dog accepted, tail giving one cautious wag. Kono smiled faintly. "Guess he thinks I'm okay."
"Good judge of character," Beau said. He didn't smile much, but there was warmth in the words.
She looked up, met his eyes for a beat — then stood quickly, returning to her rifle check. Something unspoken hung between them; Beau didn't name it.
Kalihi Pier
Night wrapped the docks in sodium light and salt air. The team split: Steve, Danny, and Kono slipped into the maze of stacked containers; Beau and Chin climbed to a high gantry overlooking the yard. Zeus padded silently at Beau's side until Beau signaled him to a low perch with a command: "Bleib." Stay.
Chin set his rifle and scanned. "You take point."
Beau settled behind his scope, breath steady. The view clicked into focus: the pier gate with two guards, a forklift moving crates, shadows of armed men checking shipments.
"They're loaded heavy," Beau murmured over comms. "At least six AKs, maybe more in the crates."
Steve's voice came back low. "Copy."
Danny: "We're heading toward container 42."
Beau caught movement — a lookout above the yard lifting a radio. "Eyes high, north catwalk," Beau warned. Chin shifted, dropped the man with a clean, suppressed shot.
Danny: "Who just dropped my sniper fairy godmother?"
Chin smirked but didn't answer.
Moments later, Zeus's ears snapped forward. The dog gave a silent alert — tail stiff, nose cutting the night toward a container row.
Beau trusted his partner instantly. "Steve, ambush left flank, three hostiles. Zeus smells them."
Steve and Kono swung that way just as three armed men stepped out. Surprise was on the team's side; Steve and Kono dropped them clean. Danny swore over comms. "Okay, maybe Cujo's worth it."
Gunfire erupted deeper in the yard — a smuggler had spotted Steve. Chaos bloomed. Beau shifted, squeezed off two shots: one man dropped, another dove behind a crate.
"Moving!" Steve shouted.
Chin covered their retreat with disciplined bursts. Beau switched to his sidearm as two smugglers tried to flank; Zeus launched at Beau's command, a blur of muscle and teeth. The first man went down screaming, rifle skittering away. Beau pulled Zeus back with a crisp "Aus!" and the dog released instantly, returning to heel.
"Clear!" Steve called a minute later. The last smuggler fled into the dark.
Sirens wailed in the distance — HPD units Joe had quietly tipped now arriving. Time to vanish.
"Exfil, now," Joe's voice ordered in their ears.
The team melted back to the perimeter, climbing into vehicles just as blue lights painted the pier. From their perch, Beau and Chin ghosted down a ladder, Zeus silent beside them. Beau's pulse stayed steady — it felt good to be in the fight again, but cleaner than the wars he'd left.
Aftermath
Back at the safehouse, weapons were cleared, gear stowed. Steve spread captured manifests across the table. "Serials trace to a Wo Fat shell company. This will help clear my name."
Danny collapsed into a chair, sweating. "Next time, Steve, warn me before bringing the Marlboro Man and his wolf."
Beau, washing Zeus's paws in a bucket, only raised a brow. "He's Belgian, not wolf."
Chin chuckled quietly.
Kono leaned against the counter, watching Beau work. "Zeus saved our asses."
Beau shrugged, drying the dog with a towel. "That's his job."
She smiled a little. "And yours?"
"Same."
Steve looked up from the evidence, gaze lingering on Beau. "You run a clean op. Thanks."
Beau just nodded. "Glad to help."
Joe met Steve's eyes. "Told you he was solid."
A Quiet Moment
Later, when the others had drifted to bunks or couches, Beau stood outside rinsing gear under a spigot. Kono stepped out with a fresh bandage kit in hand.
"You got tagged," she said, nodding at a graze along his arm.
Beau looked down, almost surprised by the thin line of blood. "Didn't notice."
"Hold still." She wrapped it with efficient hands, cop calm but gentler than she had been earlier.
"Thanks," Beau said.
"Least I can do. You saved us a firefight."
"Team saved itself," Beau replied. "I just filled a gap."
She tied off the bandage, looked up at him. "IA says I'm reckless. Maybe they're right. But tonight… I remembered why I wanted this job."
He met her eyes — steady, quiet. "Don't let them take that from you."
Something flickered in her gaze — gratitude, maybe the first spark of trust. She gave a small nod and stepped back inside.
Beau watched her go, then looked down at Zeus. The dog leaned against his leg, eyes following her too.
"Yeah," Beau murmured. "She's a fighter."
Zeus thumped his tail once, as if in agreement.
Morning sun slid across the safehouse floorboards, catching empty coffee mugs and the smell of gun oil. Steve sat at the table, hair damp from a quick shower, scrolling through a contact list on an encrypted phone. Every call was measured, low-voiced, and tactical: friendly HPD, old SEAL connections, a sympathetic federal prosecutor. Each call chipped at the wall Wo Fat had built.
Danny wandered in wearing a borrowed T-shirt, still muttering about "Navy cowboy nonsense." Chin followed quietly with a file of port manifests. Kono came last; she looked sharper this morning but still carried the brittle edge Beau had noticed since the first night.
Beau himself was on the porch, Zeus sprawled nearby. He'd been up since before dawn, cleaning rifles and feeding the dog. The ocean was silver and still; from here the war felt far away. But it wasn't. It never was.
Joe joined him, leaning on the railing with a fresh cigar. "Steve's talking to the right people. Won't be easy, but the case is cracking."
Beau nodded, silent.
Joe glanced sideways. "You watch Kono last night?"
Beau kept his eyes on the water. "Hard to miss. Girl's tough, but IA's cut her deep."
"Yeah." Joe blew smoke. "You said the right thing to her. Sometimes a man outside the department can say what the brass can't."
Beau didn't answer. He hadn't planned to say anything; it had just come out.
Joe smiled faintly. "Old-fashioned chivalry works sometimes, son."
The Governor's Shadow
By noon, Steve had dressed in plain clothes and holstered a sidearm. "Governor Denning agreed to a closed-door meet," he told the room. "If we bring hard evidence on the smuggling ring, he'll back off the manhunt and maybe reinstate Five-0."
Danny raised brows. "So, jailbreak plus smuggling bust equals job offer? Only you."
Steve smiled thinly. "Only me."
He looked at Beau. "You coming?"
Beau shook his head. "Better if I stay off radar. No badge, no Navy sanction now — might spook him."
"Fair," Steve said. "But you've got a place here if you want it. You ran point better than some of my trained guys."
Beau's expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. "Appreciate it."
IA Comes Knocking
That afternoon, while Steve and Joe were gone, two Internal Affairs officers arrived unannounced. They parked at the end of the lane and walked up, suits sharp and faces grim. Danny swore under his breath. Chin moved to intercept, calm but protective.
Beau stayed on the porch with Zeus at heel, not moving, just watching. He'd seen intimidation tactics before.
"Officer Kalākaua," the taller IA agent called. "You've been suspended pending review. You can't involve yourself in operations."
Kono stepped out of the doorway, shoulders back. She looked young but unyielding. "I'm not on duty. I'm visiting a friend."
The agent's gaze slid over Beau — boots, quiet eyes, the huge dog. "And he is?"
"Private citizen," Beau said evenly.
"Armed," the agent noted.
"Licensed," Beau replied. "And standing on private property."
The man hesitated. Zeus gave a low, rumbling growl, perfectly timed. Beau didn't call him off; he just set a calm hand on the dog's harness.
"We're reminding you, Officer," the second IA man said to Kono, "you're one step from losing your badge."
Kono didn't flinch. "Copy that."
They left, but not before one last glare. When the sound of their car faded, Kono exhaled hard. Her hands shook a little.
Beau stepped closer but not too close. "You alright?"
She nodded stiffly. "Used to it."
"Doesn't mean it's right."
She huffed a bitter laugh. "They want me scared."
"You're not," Beau said.
She looked up sharply. "You don't know that."
"Yeah, I do." His voice was calm but sure. "You came out to face them when you could've hidden. That's not fear."
Something in her shoulders eased, just slightly.
Evening Quiet
That night the safehouse was quieter than before. Joe and Steve returned with cautious good news — the Governor would consider Steve's evidence. Danny cooked pasta in the tiny kitchen while complaining about Hawaiian humidity. Chin sorted through seized manifests.
Kono slipped outside alone after dinner. Beau was already there, leaning on the porch rail with Zeus at his feet.
"Mind if I join?" she asked.
"Porch is big," Beau said.
She stood beside him, mug of tea in her hands. For a while they watched the moon shimmer on the bay.
"You ever get tired of proving yourself?" she asked finally.
Beau thought about it. "In the Teams, proving yourself was just breathing. You do it every day. Some days it's heavy. Some days it's just part of the job."
"IA makes me feel like everything I did last year means nothing."
"It means something," Beau said simply. "To the people you saved. To the ones you fought beside."
She was silent a long time. Then: "You're pretty sure of yourself."
He smiled a little. "Only about things that matter."
She laughed softly — the first time he'd heard it. It was warm and a little sad at the edges.
They stood in companionable quiet until Zeus nudged her hand. Surprised, she scratched behind his ears. "He's friendlier tonight."
"He knows who's family," Beau said.
She glanced up at him, meeting his eyes in the moonlight. Something passed there — not romantic yet, but a thread pulled taut: trust beginning.
Decision Point
Later, long after the others slept, Beau sat with Joe in the living room. Gear cases lined the wall; the quiet felt like the night before deployment.
"You're staying through this, right?" Joe asked.
"Yeah," Beau said. "Dad sent me to help a brother. Mission's not done."
Joe studied him. "And after?"
Beau hesitated, then shrugged. "Thinking about Reserves. Civilian life. Maybe… staying."
Joe smiled, slow and approving. "Hawai'i could use someone like you. Steve will need men he can trust. And that girl? She needs a few more believers."
Beau looked at Joe sharply, but the older man just puffed his cigar and didn't elaborate.
Beau shook his head, half-amused. "You sound like my dad."
"Old SEALs. We see patterns," Joe said.
They sat in silence after that, two generations of warriors listening to the soft ocean and the occasional sigh of a sleeping dog.
Beau didn't admit it aloud, but the island no longer felt foreign. It felt like a door half-open, waiting.
Three days after the Kalihi pier raid, the Governor's office called Steve back to the Capitol. Cameras had followed the smuggling bust and the weapons seizures; the evidence trail Chin built was airtight. For the first time since the Governor's murder, the tide was turning.
Steve stood in front of a mirror in the safehouse, tying a dark tie with slow, stiff movements. Bruises still painted his ribs and jaw, but his back was straight. Danny leaned in the doorway, coffee in hand, expression a mix of exasperation and pride.
"You sure about this, big guy? You're technically an escaped convict."
"Technically I'm framed," Steve answered, smoothing his collar.
Danny sipped. "Try telling the news that."
Beau stood nearby with Zeus, checking a rifle case out of habit even though today wasn't about guns. He looked more cowboy than operator again: jeans, boots, Stetson. "You'll be fine," he said simply.
Steve gave him a grateful nod. "Coming with?"
"Not my fight," Beau said. "Yet."
Danny eyed him. "Key word 'yet.' You sticking around?"
Beau didn't answer; he didn't know yet himself.
Governor Denning
The Capitol smelled like salt air and polished wood. Steve walked in with Danny and Chin flanking him. Joe waited outside with Beau and Kono — she'd refused to go in after IA warnings, but her jaw was set and proud.
Inside, the meeting was long and tense. Steve laid out the evidence: shipping records, shell companies, captured weapons. He spoke quietly but with the kind of command that made men listen. Beau couldn't hear the words from the hall, but he watched the Governor's face go from stone to something like reluctant respect through the glass.
After almost an hour, Steve came out.
"It's done," he said, voice calm but relieved. "Charges dropped. Name cleared."
Kono exhaled slowly, some of her own fear easing with his. Chin smiled faintly. Danny clapped Steve's back hard enough to make him wince.
"And Five-0?" Joe asked.
Steve's mouth quirked. "Governor's reinstating us. Full authority."
Joe's grin spread. "Knew you'd pull it off."
Steve turned to Beau. "He wants to meet you."
Beau blinked once. "Me?"
"You helped clear this mess. Governor wants to thank you — and ask if you'll join the task force."
Beau glanced at Joe. The older SEAL just shrugged and smiled. "Up to you, son."
Denning & the Offer
Governor Denning was tall, silver-haired, and had the practiced calm of a man used to cameras. He shook Beau's hand firmly.
"Commander Walker, thank you for assisting one of our own. Your actions helped bring down a major arms network and clear an innocent man."
"Just doing what needed doing, sir," Beau said quietly.
Denning studied him a moment, maybe intrigued by the plainspoken Texas drawl. "Your record is impressive: Naval Intelligence, SEAL sniper, K-9, languages. We could use that here. Five-0 has full state authority — better pay, better gear, better reach than HPD. Would you consider staying on as a sworn officer?"
Beau's instinct was to decline. Eight years of service had left him half-rootless. He'd promised himself rest. But he remembered his father's words: Find a fight that matters. He thought of Steve's haunted determination, of Kono standing defiant against IA, of Danny's fierce loyalty, Chin's quiet honor. And he thought of the clean, just war of saving people instead of politicking.
"I'm not looking for another deployment," Beau said slowly. "But I believe in helping brothers. And protecting good people."
Denning nodded once. "That's what this job is."
Beau met his eyes, then gave a small, certain nod. "Then I'm in."
Denning smiled and extended a small leather case. "Welcome to the task force, Officer Walker."
Beau accepted it. Inside gleamed a gold Five-0 badge.
Back Outside
When they stepped out of the Capitol, cameras flashed. Steve endured them; Danny glared at them; Chin ignored them. Beau kept his head down, unused to public attention.
Kono stood on the steps, arms crossed. She saw the badge in his hand and her brows lifted.
"You're official?" she asked.
"Guess so," Beau said.
She smiled — real and bright this time. "Congrats."
"Thanks," Beau said quietly.
Danny sidled up, eyeing the badge. "Great. Another SEAL with full authority. Just what I needed."
"Glad to help," Beau said deadpan, and even Danny had to fight a smirk.
Steve clapped Beau's shoulder. "Welcome to the family."
Family. The word hit harder than Beau expected.
IA's Last Swing
That afternoon, IA sent a final notice to Kono: appear for a hearing or face permanent termination. She stared at the letter at the kitchen table, hands trembling slightly.
Beau was across the room cleaning Zeus's gear. He looked up, read the storm in her expression.
"They won't stop," she said bitterly.
"Then you don't stop," Beau replied.
"It's not that simple. They've decided I'm guilty."
"Then prove them wrong."
She laughed once, sharp. "Easy for you. You're a hero of the week."
Beau set down the harness and leaned forward. "I've been accused before. Intel politics. Wrong place, wrong time. Only way out was to keep doing the job better than anyone else. It shut them up."
Kono stared at him, breathing fast. "You really think I can come back?"
"I know you can," Beau said.
She swallowed, eyes bright for a second before she looked away. "Thanks."
He nodded once and returned to his work. No speeches, just belief.
Team Rebuilt
By evening the whole group gathered at the safehouse one last time. Steve placed his badge on the table — the original Five-0 crest. One by one, Danny, Chin, and Kono added theirs. Beau hesitated, then set his new one down beside them.
Steve looked around the table. "We're whole again."
Danny raised an eyebrow at Beau. "Whole plus one cowboy."
"Plus one," Steve said firmly.
Joe, watching from the corner, smiled and gave Beau a slow nod.
Kono's gaze met Beau's briefly across the table. Something passed there — unspoken but real: Welcome. Thank you. Maybe more.
Quiet Night
Later, when everyone else had turned in, Beau stood on the porch again with Zeus at his side. The badge felt heavy in his pocket — not a burden, but an anchor.
He thought of Texas: the ranch lights, his father's quiet pride, the long rides under stars. He thought of warzones he'd walked away from. And he thought of this island — new, complicated, but somehow honest.
Joe joined him silently. "You did good, kid."
Beau smiled faintly. "Feels… right."
"It is." Joe clapped his shoulder. "Your old man will sleep easier knowing you found a place."
Beau looked out at the bay. "Maybe I did."
Zeus leaned into his leg, tail thumping softly.
The weeks after Beau's swearing-in passed in a blur of cases. Five-0 hit the ground running: drug houses in Kalihi, stolen weapons on the North Shore, a kidnapping in Waipahu that turned into a multi-state trafficking bust. The new cowboy-SEAL fit in faster than anyone expected.
Steve trusted Beau's tactical mind without question. Chin appreciated his quiet watchfulness. Even Danny, for all the Jersey sarcasm, admitted Beau was "useful as hell… for a guy who rides horses." And Zeus became an unofficial mascot: silent during raids, affectionate with kids after rescues.
The only one still a little unsure was Kono — but not because she disliked Beau. If anything, it was the opposite. He'd stepped into her crumbling world with calm faith when almost no one else had, and that made the ground beneath her shift in ways she wasn't ready for.
The Hearing
Her IA hearing hit like a hammer.
The department had built its case around "reckless conduct" and "failure to follow procedure" during past Five-0 ops — twisting decisions that had saved lives into bureaucratic sins. Chin and Steve stood by her, but the panel was cold.
Beau sat silently in the back row in plain clothes, Stetson in his hands. He didn't speak; this wasn't his world. But his presence — immovable, calm — was a quiet defiance against the narrative IA tried to weave.
When it ended, Kono walked out pale and tight-jawed. Steve went to speak but was pulled aside by counsel. Danny chased a call. Chin was intercepted by an old HPD colleague.
Beau followed her quietly down the hall until she ducked into an empty stairwell. Only then did he speak.
"You did good."
She let out a harsh laugh that cracked halfway through. "They want me gone, Beau. Doesn't matter what I say."
"They don't get the final say," he replied softly.
She turned, anger and grief flashing. "It feels like they do."
He didn't argue. He just stood there, steady and unflinching, letting her rage burn out. Eventually her shoulders sagged.
"You remind me of my dad," she said suddenly. "He used to just… stand there when things got bad. Like a wall."
Beau tipped his head. "Your dad sounds like a good man."
"He was."
"Then take that with you."
Something in her expression softened. She didn't cry; she was too proud for that. But the way she looked at him held gratitude so raw it almost hurt.
After-Hours at Kamekona's
A few nights later, after a long gun-running case wrapped with more paperwork than gunfire, Steve suggested food. The team ended up at Kamekona's shrimp truck, now closed to the public but lit by soft strings of bulbs.
Kamekona himself brought beers despite Beau's protest that he was driving the Bronco. "For you, cowboy, first one's on the house."
Laughter rolled easy that night — a pressure valve after weeks of tension. Danny told Jersey cop stories; Chin smirked and quietly fact-checked them; Steve actually smiled more than once.
Kono stayed quieter, but she drank. Not sloppy, just a little faster than usual. Beau noticed but didn't comment. She'd earned the right to loosen up.
When the group finally broke up, Steve and Danny caught a ride with Chin to grab evidence from HQ. Kamekona waved goodnight. That left Beau and Kono in the warm, salty night beside the closed truck.
"You good to drive?" Beau asked.
She laughed, a little wobbly. "Walking. Beach isn't far."
"I'll walk you."
She arched a brow. "Cowboy chivalry?"
"Something like that."
Moonlit Sand
They strolled the quiet stretch of sand near Ala Moana, shoes in hand, ocean licking at their ankles. Honolulu's lights shimmered behind them; the moon made a silver road across the water.
For a while they didn't talk. The night air smelled of plumeria and salt.
Finally Kono broke the silence. "You ever feel like you don't belong? Like you're always one step away from being told to leave?"
Beau thought about it. "Eight years in Intel and the Teams — I was the cowboy kid from Texas who quoted history instead of partying. Never fit the mold. Still did the job."
She glanced up at him. "How'd you deal with it?"
"Stopped worrying about fitting. Focused on who I wanted to be. Good man. Good teammate. That's enough."
She let out a slow breath. "I wish it felt that simple."
"It's not," he admitted. "But it's real."
They stopped where the sand was cool and wet. Kono looked out at the black water, jaw tight. "IA's gonna rule soon. Even if they clear me, I'll always be under a microscope."
"Then give them something worth watching," Beau said.
That made her laugh — a quiet, surprised sound. She looked at him, eyes shining in the moonlight. "You really believe that, huh?"
"Only thing that kept me going."
Silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable.
Then she stepped a little closer. "You're… different from the guys I've met. Most of them want to fix me or flirt. You just… stand there and believe."
"I'm old-fashioned," Beau said quietly.
"Old-fashioned's nice."
Her hand brushed his — tentative, testing. Beau didn't move away. For a heartbeat they just stood like that, two warriors raw and a little lost.
Then she swayed toward him — maybe the beer, maybe just exhaustion cracking open her guard — and kissed him.
It wasn't a long kiss, or polished. It was tentative and messy and honest. Salt air, soft gasp, the faint scratch of her fingers at his jaw. Beau froze for a second, startled — then let instinct and something warmer guide him. He kissed back, careful but real.
When they broke apart, she stepped back quickly, cheeks flushed.
"Sorry," she whispered. "I… don't usually…"
Beau tipped his hat back, studying her gently. "You don't have to be sorry."
She laughed nervously. "This is probably stupid."
"Probably," he agreed, but his voice was soft, not judging.
She smiled a little despite herself. "Thanks for walking me."
"Anytime."
They stood there a moment longer, the night humming with ocean and unspoken things.
Aftermath
He drove her home in the Bronco even though she swore she could walk. Neither talked much; the silence felt fragile, like a new truce.
At her apartment building she paused with the door half open. "Beau?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks… for everything. Not just tonight."
He met her eyes. "You're welcome, Kono."
She hesitated, then smiled — small, shy, but real. "Goodnight, cowboy."
"Night."
She disappeared inside. Beau sat in the Bronco a long time before starting the engine. Zeus nudged his arm from the back seat.
"Yeah, boy," Beau said softly. "I know."
He wasn't sure what exactly he knew — only that something had shifted. Not a mission, not a case. Something personal. Dangerous in a different way.
The next evening the task force gathered at Steve's beach house. It was meant to be a quiet celebration — no press, no cameras, just the people who had bled for each other these past weeks. The air smelled of salt, grilled meat, and Kamekona's famous shrimp.
Steve wore jeans and a linen shirt, still moving a little carefully but smiling easier than Beau had yet seen. Danny was already pacing the deck with a beer, lecturing Steve about reckless jailbreaks while clearly happy to have his partner back. Chin leaned against the rail with quiet pride. Kono laughed softly at something Kamekona said while helping set food on the table.
Beau arrived last, Bronco crunching in the driveway, Zeus hopping out to trot ahead. He wore boots, worn jeans, and — to Danny's horror — the Stetson.
Danny groaned. "Oh good, Walker brought the hat to dinner. Of course."
Beau tipped the brim. "Wouldn't want to disappoint."
Kono smirked behind her beer bottle. "Looks better than your tie, Danno."
Danny gaped. "Et tu, Kono?"
She only grinned and handed Beau a plate.
Toast
As the sun slid low, Steve called everyone to the deck. He held his restored badge in one hand and raised a bottle with the other.
"Couple weeks ago," Steve said, "I was sitting in a cell with the world calling me a murderer. Tonight we're here, free, whole, and Five-0 again. Couldn't have done it without every person here."
He turned toward Joe first. "Old man, you still save my life." Joe only chuckled.
Then toward Beau. "And to Beau Walker — a man who didn't know us but came when a brother called. You gave me back my freedom and my team."
Beau ducked his head slightly, unused to public praise. "Just answered the call, Commander."
Steve smiled. "And now you're part of this family. So get used to it."
Everyone clinked bottles and glasses. Danny muttered about "family growing like stray cats," but he smiled when Beau clinked his beer against his anyway.
Small Conversations
Later, as laughter and grill smoke drifted into the night, people split into small knots of talk.
Joe pulled Beau aside on the porch steps. "Your dad would be proud, kid."
Beau smiled faintly. "Hope so."
"He will be. You found a good fight — and maybe more than that."
Beau gave him a look. Joe only grinned, offered a cigar, and wandered off.
Danny eventually cornered Beau too, hands stuffed in pockets. "Alright, Walker. You proved you're not just a rodeo act. Still think you're nuts, but you've got our backs. That matters."
"Appreciate it," Beau said simply.
"Just… don't get McGarrett killed. He's enough work already."
Beau almost smiled. "I'll try."
Quiet at the Water's Edge
Near the end of the night, Beau took Zeus down to the waterline. The dog padded beside him, nose to the sand. The ocean was dark silver under a rising moon.
Kono appeared quietly, barefoot now, holding her shoes. She stopped a few steps away.
"Nice night," she said.
"Yeah."
She hesitated, then smiled. "You fit here. Didn't think you would, but you do."
"Didn't think I would either."
They stood in companionable silence for a while, watching waves catch the light.
Kono glanced up. "About the other night… I was drunk. And messed up."
Beau nodded slowly. "I know."
"I don't… usually do that."
"I figured."
She studied him, searching for judgment. There was none. Just quiet steadiness.
"I don't know what I want right now," she admitted. "IA's still hovering. My life's a mess."
"Doesn't have to mean anything," Beau said gently. "We're teammates. Friends."
Something eased in her shoulders — relief, maybe gratitude. But after a beat she smirked. "Friends who kissed?"
He almost smiled. "Friends who kissed."
She laughed softly, then grew serious again. "I don't want to screw this team up. Or whatever this… is."
"We'll take it slow," Beau said. "No pressure."
She nodded, eyes on the sea. Then, impulsively, she reached out and took his hand for just a moment. Warm. Real.
"Thanks for believing in me," she said quietly.
"Anytime," Beau replied.
They let go before anyone could see, but something had shifted again — a quiet, fragile thread tying them closer.
Heading Home
By the time the gathering wound down, Steve was asleep in a chair, Danny arguing gently with Kamekona over dessert portions, and Chin was telling Joe an old HPD story that had them both laughing. Kono slipped away early with a wave; Beau stayed to help clean up, then called Zeus and headed for the Bronco.
Driving back through the humid night, badge heavy on his belt, Beau felt an unfamiliar sense of ease. Not the restless waiting of a man between wars, but the beginning of belonging.
His father's voice echoed in memory: Find a fight that matters.
Maybe he had.
He glanced at Zeus in the passenger seat. The dog was already asleep, head on the console.
"Think we found home, buddy," Beau murmured.
The Malinois gave a sleepy tail thump, as if to agree.