So…it's been a while. Yeah, I have excuses, but…so anyways—here's the next chap.

Chapter 18: T is for Team

"So what is this training exercise thingy again? And why are you, a lowly intern involved?"

"It's just some "impress-the-young-impressionable-interns" deal. I'm sure it won't be anything too remarkable. We're just going to "experience" a hostage-like situation. Probably a bank robbery or something. Who knows, who cares? It's the government's dime and I think it rocks!"

"Well," sighed Logan, wrapping his arms around the petite blonde's tiny waist, "I think it sucks. I don't like spending even one night without you – and they make me spend three?"

"Oh, Logan, you're impossible," the blonde smiled.

"Nonsense. I'm very possible…"

"Logan!" Veronica sighed, feeling every indication of what Logan had on his mind.

"Gosh, Ronnie, you're gonna be gone for three days – don't you think I deserve a little something to ease the pain?"

Veonica smiled at Logan's devlish grin. She never could resist it.

"So, I'll be back on Saturday. Try to behave."

"Who, me?" Logan asked, pretending to look around for someone else Veronica must be referring to.

"Yes, you!" she smiled, getting into the backseat of the black SUV.

As soon as she was out of sight, Logan made a phone call.

"Yeah, it's me….something's up. I'm not sure what, but she claims she's going on this training exercise for a few days. She brought home a bunch of stuff yesterday like she wasn't going back to the office….no, she played it off, but big, black SUV's don't normally pick-up lowly FBI interns and take them on secret training exercises…yeah, that's what I'm afraid of….okay, I'll keep you updated."

He hung up and turned to go inside, but not before he noticed the black Lincoln parked a few streets down. He shook his head and walked inside.

"So…if I'm not going back to the office anymore, where am I going?"

"Once you get what you need from the next few days, the team won't necessarily need Quantico to keep training. There's a small, secret, facility in Fort Hunt…"

"Uh, that one's not so secret, Fuller…"

Fuller smirked. If this girl didn't get herself and their whole team killed—she'd probably get a friggin' medal.

"Anyway—you'll go to work as usual (or at least that's the story you'll tell) and no one will be the wiser."

Veronica smiled.

No one will be the wiser. If that's what you want to think…

…..

"Mars, I want you to meet the team…this is John Nacombe, former military, black ops. He's the braun of the operation."

"Sort of kick-ass-and-take-names kind of guy? Good to know," Veronica retorted, drawing a smile from the hardened "former" Marine.

"…and this is Cecille Fuller—she's a computer expert and a most skilled operational leader. She runs the coms and cams and calls the shots. She's your ops leader."

Veronica took her outstretched hand and shook it firmly. She had surmised in her short time in DC, that there were two kinds of women in the Bureau: the one who looked at other women as pitiful excuses for agents—a testament to all that was wrong with title 9, as she was the exception, not the rule; and the kind who looked at other women as kindred spirits—a fellow traveler down a dark and forbidden road that they must traverse together. It was quite clear to Veronica at that moment that Ms Fuller here was a distinct third kind of woman: the kind that gave you a chance to show what you were about before deciding which categorical stereotype to personify in your presence. Veronica realized that SHE, in fact, was this type, also, and mentally chastised herself for not creating that third category before today.

"And last, but not least, is Cameron Ford…"

"Howdy, ma'am. I don't have any fancy, smancy training like these two. I'm just a cowboy with a knack for getting bad guys."

Veronica had to resist the urge to laugh in his face. If he thought he was being cute…

"Well, hi, Cowboy, I'm Veronica Mars…college girl with a talent for getting myself into trouble. Nice to meet you," she said trying to suppress her laughter, not unnoticed by Agent Nacombe, who then had a hard time containing his.

…

It was a grilling three days of training for Veronica. She expected it to be hard, but they really put her through the ringer. At first she thought they were just being harsh because she was an intern. She figured they saw her as a pain-in-the-ass-problem they were forced to deal with – short-end-of-the-straw kind of thing, but she quickly learned she was wrong.

"Listen, Mars, this shit is for real," Agent Nacombe told her at the end the first day, after he noticed her looking a little weary. "We may be playing hostage right now, but if those Russian assholes grab you, all shit hits the fan, then. You've got to be prepared. You've got to know how to handle yourself. If you're in danger, the whole team is in danger. We don't leave a member of the team behind. You're part of that team now, so get it together and grow some balls. Get back out there tomorrow and give it all you got. I've read your file, I know you can survive, you just have to remind yourself."

Veronica understood after that. She really was a part of this team. She might be a lowly intern, a pain-in-the-ass-problem for this team, but she was part of it now. She was part of the team and they all had a job to do, so she didn't show a sign of weakness the rest of the time they trained. By the end of day 3, they were all impressed as hell at the petite blonde from where-the-hell-ever California.

"So are you ready for the real thing now, Mars?" Nacombe joked?

"Hell, no. Would you be?"

"Good answer. I'd worry if you were too cocky."

"Too cocky, Napalm?"

Veronica chuckled at Cowboy's nickname for Agent Nacombe. It never got old.

"There is no such thing."

"Cowboy, when we find you in pieces on the side of the road one day, I'll have that engraved on your tombstone."

"Please do."

Fuller, who Veronica at first took as a rigid, hard-ass, was an enigma to her. She would, at times, laugh and share a joke with the group and at other times reprimand them for acting like four-year-old ninnies. This was one of those times.

"Agents, please. Can we wrap this little exercise up and go home?" she asked, her eyes rolling at the men's humor.

"Yes, ma'am, CC."

"Stop calling me CC, damnit. That is not my name."

"Come on, CC, you gotta have a nickname just like the rest of us."

"No, actually, Agent Ford, I don't. Check the constitution."

"Since when do the rest of us have a nickname, Cowboy? I thought it was just the boys."

"Oh, no, Blondie, I got one for you, too."

"Blondie? How original," Veronica snorted.

"Oh, it ain't Blondie. It's Pluto."

"Pluto?" she choked on the water she had just guzzled. "How the hell did you come up with Pluto?"

"Well, your last name is Mars—which makes me think of planets. And I love dogs, like the one from Mickey Mouse—so I just thought Pluto."

"How did they let a dumb fuck like you into the FBI, Cowboy?"

"Same way they let a Viet-crazed ex-Marine in, Napalm."

Veronica shook her head, "My life is in YOUR hands?" she asked rhetorically.

"Get a move on, team," Fuller barked.

…

"Logan? You home?"

Veronica entered the dark townhome, almost disappointed that Logan hadn't greeted her with a nice home-cooked meal and a million candles like the last time she had gone away for a few days. In fact, Logan didn't seem to be home at all.

She dropped her keys on the counter and headed to her room to put away her things. On her bed lay a wrapped box with a note. She smiled. She knew that Logan would have done something for her return home. She opened the note.

"Take a shower and put this dress on – or not, it's really up to you, but going naked in public isn't really your thing, but I digress…

Anyway, put this on and be outside at 5 sharp. A black limo will arrive for you.

P.S. I missed you."

Veronica felt herself get a little giddy. She opened the box to reveal a very simple but very cute maroon halter dress. There was a little sweater with it. The nights in Virginia that summer had been anything but chilly unless they were on the water….she smiled. Was Logan taking her to that restaurant on the river in Old Towne? She glanced at her new mammoth FBI watch and hurried to the bathroom. She quickly showered and fixed herself for the evening. As she slipped the dress on, she suddenly remembered her new dental hardware.

Shit. How am I going to get this out without Logan seeing?

She thought about just taking it out right then, but if something were to happen, she'd want her team to know ASAP. That thought made her smile. "Her" team. She really was all FBI now.

Quickly she snapped back to reality as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. They had shown her how to "pop" it in and out. It wasn't hard, just not so inconspicuous. If things got hot and heavy pretty quickly it would be hard to get it out without Logan knowing.

Oh, hell, you're Veronica Mars. You can do anything.

She tried making herself believe that as she grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door.