Olivia and I are alone in the car, and we are once again not talking. We left Stabler and Fin at Melissa Carpenter's building a few minutes ago, and, with them gone, I thought we might have a nice conversation, but she just started staring out the window. We must have exhausted all our small talk about the snow back at her precinct. It's almost like telling me she wanted to talk relieved her of any burden to actually talk until we get to the end of the case.

I'm still a little shocked that she admitted that much, wanting to discuss our relationship. Or inability to have a relationship. I guess catching her having a sex dream backed her into a corner on that one. Considering the circumstances, I decide that this has been a pretty good morning. Not only is Olivia admitting she may still feel something for me, she's having dirty dreams about me.

I think back on our little encounter in the crib. Waking up and seeing her in the bed next to me had made me feel like my birthday had come early, but watching her dream about me? I think I died and went to heaven for a minute or two. I hadn't wanted to wake her up when I heard her say my name; I'd really just wanted to touch her. Her voice was so throaty, sexy, the same way she always sounds in bed. It was such a turn-on. I just wanted to recapture that feeling of being with her physically, if only for a moment. I'm glad she's looking out the window right now, because she'd probably know exactly what I'm smiling about if she were looking at me. All these years, and she still knows what each of my expressions means. No one has ever been able to read me the way she can.

The wheel suddenly pulls to the right and it's all I can do to avoid a snow-covered lump I can only assume is parked car. She jumps slightly, saying, "Are you just making sure I'm still awake?"

I only nod, keeping my eyes on the road. I hate driving in the snow. Even with four-wheel drive, the tires slip and it's hard to steer. With the snow gusting outside, I can barely make out where I'm going. Normally, this kind of danger gets me excited, but there's something about the potential loss of control when I'm driving in snow that just makes me nervous. I was in a car accident in a snowstorm when I was younger, and all I know is that if you start to skid and slide on a surface made of tiny ice crystals, there's nothing you can really do but hope there's more resistance than inertia in your favor. I probably would have refused to go out at all if anyone but Olivia had suggested it. That particular equation is all inertia at the moment.

We arrive at Fordham with no further incident, and, after slogging through the snow to talk with Marina Vasquez's roommate, find that she has nothing new to offer us. Her story is surprisingly similar to Cassie's – went out, got separated, roommate never came home. We don't tell her where we think her missing friend might be. She seems concerned enough as it is.

With the driving conditions so poor, it takes us almost fifteen minutes to get back to the block where we left Stabler and Fin. I almost wish it had taken longer. She kept glancing at me the whole ride back, like she wanted to say something and caught herself at the last second each time. She might have let it slip if we hadn't arrived when we did. Of course, we could have made it half-way across the country before she said whatever she was trying to get out. It might not even be about us, which is what I really want to hear; it might just be a theory she's developing about the case. At least the silence hasn't been uncomfortable.

As we pull up outside Carpenter's building, she points across the street. "Looks like Elliot and Fin are taking a coffee break. We might as well join them and compare notes." She gets out of my car almost before I've parked. I take a moment to turn off the engine and lights, expecting her to disappear across the street, but she stands outside my door. She could have been inside by now, but she's waiting for me, snowflakes catching on her hair and eyelashes. It's not a huge gesture, but everything feels so significant now, knowing she wants me again. Or may want me. This new uncertainty is unbelievably unsettling. In my mind, I'm pulling her against me and kissing her as violins crescendo in the background; in reality, we're crossing a snowy street on our way into a Starbucks. Only in New York could the streets close but the coffee shops stay open. She gives me a little smile as I open the door for her. "Such a gentleman."

I'm about to smile back and make a joke, but Stabler is giving me a sobering glare and I hold my tongue. We go over to the two detectives and Olivia sits next to Stabler, asking, "Did you two get anything on Carpenter?" I'm reminded that I'm the outsider as I pull a wooden chair into the small circle of their cushy purple velvet ones. None of them seem to notice.

Stabler answers her question, "Just that she was out with some guy named Les on Friday night and mom enjoys the occasional cocktail. She was even nice enough to offer us one."

"It's not even noon yet." She smiles humorlessly. She's probably remembering her experience with her own mother's drinking. I wonder if Stabler doesn't know better or is just being insensitive.

I tug gently on Olivia's sleeve, asking, "Can I get you a coffee or something?"

"Yeah, you know what I like." I smile in acknowledgment, noting Stabler's renewed glare, as I walk over to the counter. I get her a triple tall 2 latte, hoping I'm not overestimating my memory for detail. I bring our coffees back to our seats. She takes a sip and smiles. "Thanks." Before I get too confident of her attention, she points to the muffin on the table. "Whose is that?"

"Mine," Stabler answers.

"Oh, good." She promptly grabs it and starts eating. He just looks at her and shakes his head, as if he's used to having things like this happen. I hide my frown by taking a sip of coffee. My sisters used to do the same thing to me, but I certainly never looked back at them like he's looking at her. She either doesn't notice or doesn't think anything of it.

Fin turns to me and asks, "You two get anything on Marina Vasquez?"

"Only that she went out on Friday night and didn't come home. The roommate got nervous when she hadn't seen her by Sunday and filed the Missing Persons report."

"Yeah, Munch is followin' up on Carpenter's mystery boyfriend, but he ain't gonna find anything with nothin' but a first name."

"Maybe he'll get lucky." I'm glad Fin is talking to me without awkwardness. I think he's the only one in the circle who doesn't hate me or feel the influence of any heavy baggage. I can only imagine how Stabler might lord this little bit of trivial information about our potential vic over me, like it's a huge break in the case. He's still glaring at me, but at least he isn't saying anything.

Fin continues, "Munch, lucky? Please. He's got Healey for the rest of the case. But at least she won't be around today."

"Really? She called out?" It's news to me. Healey isn't the type to shirk work, especially on a high-profile investigation like this.

Stabler fills in the rest. "From what Munch said, he called her cell to find out where she was and she chewed him out for waking her up. Do all you Marshals have such fine work ethic?"

I ignore the jab, still wondering about Healey, but Olivia doesn't. "Andy slept at the station and is out in the snow doing the legwork just like you, El."

He's about to reply when his phone rings. "Stabler…No, nothing new since we talked to Munch, Cap'n…Yeah, we'll be back as soon as possible." He turns to us. "Cap says we've got another note."

There's an instant stifling oppression in the coffee house. Olivia is the first to speak. "Another body, you mean."

I take her hand and pull her out of the chair. "We don't know that yet." She looks into my eyes, and I know there's nothing I can say or do to change her mind or make her feel better. We all walk back across the snowy street to my car and drive back to the precinct.