The day began like any other at the Nine-Nine: a mix of controlled chaos and outright absurdity. As the squad gathered in the bullpen for their usual morning briefing, Captain Holt's unflappable voice carried over the hum of conversation.

"Before we begin, I have some unfortunate news. Detective Peralta and I will be working from home for the foreseeable future due to a medical situation."

"Wait, what?" Jake interrupted, raising a hand. "You can't just drop a bombshell like that without explaining! It makes it sound like we're dying or something."

"We're not dying," Holt said flatly. "We've contracted the mumps."

The bullpen erupted in laughter and groans of disgust. Jake crossed his arms defensively.

"It's not funny! Do you know how contagious this thing is? Holt and I are doing the responsible thing by quarantining ourselves."

"More like the gross thing," Rosa muttered, smirking.

"Indeed," Holt said, unfazed. "Detective Diaz, you'll be leading the fieldwork for the cases we've been assigned. Sergeant Jeffords, I trust you'll ensure everything runs smoothly."

Terry nodded. "You got it, Captain."

As the briefing wrapped up, the squad dispersed to their desks, already buzzing with speculation about Jake and Holt's self-imposed exile. Amy approached Rosa, who was reviewing the case files Holt had left for her.

"Think you're up for this?" Amy asked.

Rosa shrugged. "It's just a few cases. Nothing we can't handle."

From across the bullpen, Terry called out, "Hey, where's Vee? She's not in the bullpen."

"She's in the training room," Holt said, not looking up from his notes. "I believe she said something about 'keeping her skills sharp.'"

The squad exchanged curious glances before heading down to the training room as a group. What they found stopped them in their tracks.

Vee was in the middle of a sparring session with a training dummy, her movements a blur of speed and precision. She struck with deadly accuracy, her punches and kicks landing in a flurry of controlled violence that left the dummy rocking on its base. When she switched to firearms training, her marksmanship was equally impressive—every shot hit the bullseye with laser precision.

"Whoa," Jake said, wide-eyed. "She's like a real-life action hero."

"More like a killing machine," Rosa muttered, though her tone held a note of grudging admiration.

Vee finally noticed the group watching her and lowered her weapon, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah," Jake said, still staring. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Vee smirked. "You pick up a few things in this line of work."

"That's more than a 'few things,'" Terry said, his expression somewhere between impressed and concerned.

"Let's just say I like being prepared," Vee replied, her tone light but evasive.

Rosa studied her closely, her suspicions about Vee's past growing stronger.

Later that day, the precinct was bustling with activity as the squad tackled their cases. Jake and Holt called in periodically from their quarantine, their video feed a comical display of swollen faces and increasingly ridiculous bickering.

"Detective Diaz," Holt said during one such call, "how is progress on the robbery case?"

"Handled," Rosa replied. "We tracked the suspects to a warehouse in Red Hook. Vee and I took care of the takedown."

"Excellent work," Holt said, his tone as even as ever.

Jake leaned into the frame. "Wait, hold on—Vee was there? Why didn't anyone tell me? I bet it was epic!"

"It was fine," Vee said, her voice betraying nothing.

Rosa smirked. "You should've seen her, Jake. She basically cleared the whole place on her own."

"Ugh, not fair!" Jake groaned. "Why do I always miss the cool stuff?"

"Because you have mumps," Rosa said, deadpan.

The call ended, and the squad returned to their work. Vee tried to blend into the background, but her performance at the warehouse—and in the training room—had made her the subject of everyone's curiosity.

By the time the day wound down, Vee was ready to escape the scrutiny. She headed for the break room, hoping for a moment of quiet, but Rosa followed her.

"You've been holding back," Rosa said bluntly as the door closed behind them.

Vee sighed. "What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about," Rosa said. "The way you fight, the way you handle yourself—it's not just 'police training.' You've got a history, and I want to know what it is."

Vee met Rosa's gaze, her expression unreadable. "Why does it matter?"

"Because I don't like mysteries," Rosa said. "Especially when they're standing right next to me with a badge and a gun."

Vee hesitated, torn between her desire to keep her past buried and the growing bond she felt with Rosa and the rest of the squad.

"Fine," she said finally. "But not here. Not now."

Rosa nodded, accepting the answer for now. But she wasn't going to let it go.

As they left the break room, the sound of laughter and chatter from the bullpen reminded Vee of what she'd found at the Nine-Nine: a family. For the first time in years, she felt like she belonged somewhere. But the secrets she carried threatened to shatter that fragile sense of belonging, and she knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out.

The break room was silent, save for the faint hum of the vending machine. Rosa leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her sharp eyes locked onto Vee. For all of her tough exterior, Rosa's expression held more curiosity than suspicion.

Vee avoided her gaze, busying herself by stirring a cup of coffee she didn't plan to drink. The tension in the air was thick, and Rosa was nothing if not persistent.

"So?" Rosa finally said, breaking the silence.

Vee sighed, setting the spoon down with a quiet clink. "So, what?"

"You know what. The whole 'mysterious badass' thing. I get that you don't want to talk about it, but at some point, you're going to have to explain how you're able to do the things you do."

Vee hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. She wasn't ready to reveal the full truth—not now, not yet. But Rosa wasn't the kind of person you could brush off with a joke or a deflection.

"I had a terrible past," Vee said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rosa's brow furrowed. "What does that mean?"

Vee took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "It means that I had to learn to survive. The skills I have now—they weren't a choice. They were a necessity." She paused, staring into her untouched coffee. "Where I came from, there wasn't room for mistakes. You either adapted, or you didn't make it."

Rosa tilted her head, her expression softening. "That's... vague."

"That's all I'm going to give you right now," Vee said firmly, finally meeting Rosa's gaze. "Not because I don't trust you, but because some things are better left in the past."

Rosa studied her for a long moment, as if weighing whether to push further. But something in Vee's eyes—a quiet pain, a weariness that ran deeper than words—made her stop.

"Fair enough," Rosa said at last, her voice unusually gentle. "But if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me."

Vee allowed herself a small smile. "Thanks."

Rosa nodded and turned to leave, but she paused at the door. "For what it's worth, I think you're handling whatever happened better than most people would."

Vee chuckled dryly. "You'd be surprised."

As Rosa left the break room, Vee leaned against the counter, her thoughts swirling. She hated lying—or half-truths, at least—to people she genuinely cared about. But her past wasn't something she could just unload over a cup of coffee. It wasn't just dark; it was a black hole, threatening to pull everything and everyone around her into its depths.

Still, there was something comforting about Rosa's words. For the first time in a long time, Vee felt like maybe—just maybe—she wasn't entirely alone.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Vee threw herself into her work, using the cases the squad had assigned her as a welcome distraction. The Nine-Nine was as chaotic as ever, and even with Jake and Holt quarantined, the precinct ran like a well-oiled, if slightly dysfunctional, machine.

In Holt's absence, Rosa took charge of the robbery case they were working on, with Vee as her unofficial partner. The two of them made a surprisingly efficient team, and by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, they had tracked down the suspects and recovered most of the stolen goods.

As they drove back to the precinct, Rosa glanced over at Vee.

"You did good today," Rosa said.

Vee raised an eyebrow. "Is that your way of saying thank you?"

"Don't push it," Rosa said with a smirk.

The two women shared a rare moment of camaraderie, the silence between them comfortable rather than tense. For Vee, it was a small but significant step toward feeling like she truly belonged at the Nine-Nine.

But in the back of her mind, she knew that this fragile peace wouldn't last forever. Her past was always lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to resurface. And when it did, she could only hope that the bonds she was forming with the squad would be strong enough to withstand the storm.

For now, though, Vee allowed herself to enjoy the moment—a quiet drive through the city, a stolen sense of normalcy, and the faint hope that maybe, just maybe, she could carve out a new life for herself among the chaos of the Nine-Nine.