(Disclaimer: Not mine. Nothing in this bit of random creativity belongs to me. If any of it did, I wouldn't be living in middle-of-nowhere-ville Nova Scotia.)

(A/n: This is an extremely weird idea that just popped into my head. It's inspired by a few episodes of Criminal Intent. And it is NOT a crossover. An SVU fic, inspired by CI? I know it doesn't make a lot of sense. This is what happens to me, when I fry my brain, sitting in front of my DVD player for about four hours.)

We sit here on the curb, in our unmarked Crown Vic, silently. He pretends to read the paper and I pretend to be checking my makeup in the rearview. We look like a couple to anyone who's passing by.

"You ready to go in?" He raises an eyebrow. It's time for us to put our act on again. A decoy husband and wife, desperate for a child.

There are people selling babies to desperate rich couples, who have had enough of the adoption system. They work abortion clinics, find some desperate woman and pay her to give them her baby, when it's born, and then, they sell the kid like they would anything else.

We found out about this through a startled young woman, who came to us. She said she'd gone into a clinic, to abort a baby that neither she or her boyfriend were ready for, when she'd been approached by a man, who'd offered her twenty thousand dollars for her child. Horrified, she came to us to report it. The guy had even given her a number, in case she changed her mind. That's how we got here, preparing a sting.

I tuck the earpiece in place, making sure it's hidden. "Yeah."

"Wait a sec, Liv." He produces a small box. It's one I've come to recognize.

Because we do decoy work so often and our perps are so often highly intelligent, I've been provided with a wedding band and engagement ring, sized just for me. Rapists and pedophiles are cowards, but they're not stupid. If I walked in with my 'husband' and didn't have a ring, it would send a signal.

My friends keep asking me when I'm going to tie the knot and settle down. I wonder what they'd do if I told them that I've been 'married' a few dozen times. Because in a way, I have been. I'm almost always the one that gets tapped to play the decoy wife. Probably because I'm one of the few women in the squad.

I slide them on, slowly. It always feels awkward. I'm not used to wearing rings on my left hand. I have two plain silver ones on my right, but nothing on my left. It took me a long time to stop fiddling with the rings, when we were undercover. I had to make it look natural.

A woman who's used to wearing a wedding band doesn't fiddle with it. I've seen my married friends. They don't touch their rings. It's just there, like it's a part of them. They'd feel awkward without it. I feel awkward wearing one.

I check the tiny microphone that's attached to the inside of my sleeve, ready to record anything that's said. Besides wearing a non-binding wedding band, I'm wearing a skirt and heels, with a long-sleeved blouse. Something else that feels unnatural. I don't even wear a skirt when I go to court. It's not that I don't like wearing a skirt, I just never really get to.

I check my hair, one last time, to make sure that it's concealing the earpiece and open the door. I step out and walk around the car. Elliot joins me and slips his arm through mine, as we walk down the sidewalk. I let one eye wander to the other side of the street, seeing another unmarked Crown Vic. Munch and Fin are sitting there, watching the small, uptown café where we set up the meet.

I know that a lot of women would die to be me, right now. A friend claims I'm crazy for not taking advantage of the position I'm in. He's single, recently separated and spends more time with me than he does his own kids. A lonely guy's easy to seduce, she says.

But that's not what I want. A casual, easy-come-easy-go kind of thing is not what I want, if I do get involved with him. He's not the kind of man for that. And I'm tired of it. He's the dependable, solid one - the guy that every little girl's mother dreams of. The classic knight in shining armor from the fairytales.

He's stubborn. We butt heads, all the time. The boss doesn't even bother looking up, anymore, when we fight. Sometimes, he pisses me off so much that I don't even want him in the same country with me. But he's reliable and solid. I know that if he does have feelings for me, like the rumors say, it won't be a one-night-stand.

But I do feel for him. It used to be friendship, but I think the line's starting to blur, now, with everything that's happened, lately. He's been calling my couch home more often, the last few months.

I'm never sure where I stand with him. Sometimes, I'll catch him stealing a look, when he doesn't think I'm paying attention. The way he looks at me, then gives me the idea that the rumors going around the precinct aren't just gossip, made up by some bored beat cop. But then, other times, when he pushes me away, I don't know what he wants from me. I don't even know if he wants me around, anymore.

But I love him. How can't I? Seven years, working side-by-side. We're a team. He's got my back, I've got his. We've been through everything possible, while we work the sickest kinds of crimes. We've both had HIV scares, I've had stalkers and I've had threats made against my life. Besides that, we've dealt with Internal Affairs, a few dirty cops, justified shootings and psych evaluations.

He was there for me, when my mother died, even though I tried my best to make him go away. He's always trying to convince me that I'm not what I think I am. That whatever my father did doesn't have anything to do with me. When he thought I needed protection, he put the call in and got it for me. He never backed down, even when I showed up on his doorstep, after midnight, pissed off because he was trying to take care of me. The one thing I can't stand. I hate it when someone's trying to take care of me.

He's been there, when I need him and even when I've told him to go away, he's still there. I depend on him and I trust him. I'll have to wait and see. I'm going to let him make the first move. I'm not making an idiot out of myself, by making the first move and then finding out that he doesn't feel that way. That the rumors are just rumors.

I'm not ruining what we have over a bunch of rumors. No. Not gonna happen. I drag my mind back to the case at hand, as he opens the door for me. I'm not Detective Benson - a cop who lives alone on the West Side. I'm the wife of a wealthy broker who lives in Central Park West and is desperate to be a mommy. Desperate enough to buy a kid, illegally.

I see our 'contact' sitting at a table, with a cup of coffee. I lift my hand to run fingers through my hair and whisper into the tiny mic attached to my sleeve. "It's a go. Our contact's here. Everybody in position?"

Munch's voice crackles through the earpiece, seconds later. "It's a go, Ghost. Nail the bastard."

"You got it." I drop my hand back to my side and find my partner's hand, linking my fingers with his. Here we go again. Acting as a couple, when we're not. I just hope things will change, sometime in the near future.

(A/n: Like it? Hate it? Is it weird? Let me know. This thing kind of wrote itself in about twenty minutes.)