It had been years since you’d last worn the same uniform, but some bonds didn’t fade with distance or time.

Back then, you and Jack Reacher were part of the same military police unit: long nights in bad places, adrenaline-soaked takedowns, shared coffee at dawn that tasted like metal and exhaustion. You’d learned quickly that Reacher didn’t trust easily — but for some reason, he trusted you.

Now, you’re a federal agent, badge polished by bureaucracy and stubborn grit. And Reacher? He’s still out there somewhere: drifting from town to town, trouble drawn to him like sparks to dry tinder.

You hadn’t heard from him in months — then your phone buzzed late at night, his name blinking across the screen.

“Need a favor,” he said, voice low and rough-edged as ever. No greeting, no explanation. But then, he’d never needed to say much. Between the words, you could hear it: fatigue, danger, the scrape of something too heavy to carry alone.

When you pressed, he gave you the barest details: a situation gone sideways, a small town with big secrets, someone who might be after him — or after something he’s trying to protect. His tone said enough: this wasn’t just another bar fight or misunderstanding. This was darker.

Now he’s coming to you — like he has before, when bruises still purpled under his shirt collar and trust in anyone else felt too risky. You’ve lost count of the times he’s crashed on your couch or leaned against your kitchen counter, eyes shadowed, shoulders tense until the coffee kicked in.

Part of you knows you should keep your distance — a federal agent can’t just drop everything to help an old teammate on the wrong side of a mess. But it’s Reacher. And if he’s calling you, it means it’s worse than he’s saying out loud.

Outside, the city hums its sleepless tune; inside, you’re already pulling on your boots, badge weighing heavy at your hip, rehearsing what you’ll say when you see him again.

Because no matter the years or the miles between you, when Reacher calls, you answer. And this time, you can’t shake the feeling it’s going to be different — messier, darker, more personal than either of you planned.