I woke up this morning feeling like I'd had an amazing dream. Well, I did have an amazing dream, involving me and Olivia in my shower, but I know for a fact that that didn't happen. The other thing, the kiss, is what feels like it may have been too good to be true. It makes me feel like an awkward teenager to admit it, even to myself, but I don't know if I've been that excited over a kiss in years.

It's odd how such a small gesture can be so loaded with emotion and meaning in some cases, so empty in others. I think last night was the former. For me it was definitely the former, but for her…

I've finally convinced myself that she wouldn't have done it, not with our history, if it hadn't meant something. We didn't talk about the kiss after it happened, but if I had questions about where we were before, the questions I have now are ten times worse. We've got a long ride out to the extreme end of Brooklyn, so after twenty minutes of fiddling with the radio, I bite the bullet. "What did you mean?"

She sighs as if she's been expecting me to ask. Aside from the unwillingness to talk about anything serious outside of the case, she's been treating me differently. Things have been less tense between us this morning. I'm afraid I may have ruined our renewed closeness when she quietly asks, "About what exactly?"

"Last night…you said that just knowing was enough for now. But what exactly do we know? I mean, I know what I feel, but the only thing I know about what you're feeling is that you kissed me. And that's not even a feeling, it's an action." The moment I started speaking I knew that I was making a mistake, but it's too late to stop myself now. "Did you just do it to shut me up and stupefy me into not bugging you for a while? Or were you trying to tell me that we might be getting back together, and if we do is it gonna just be sex or is it gonna be a real relationship? Or was it just some kind of pity…"

"It was a self-test," she interrupts, rescuing me from a ramble that could have gone on for hours. She stares at me for a minute or so. I think she might be melting my skin with the intensity of her eyes and I involuntarily bring my hand up to brush my face, just to make sure everything's in order. She's still staring so I pretend I'm scratching at the three-day-old stubble I didn't bother to shave this morning. I consider myself lucky that I even had the presence of mind to take a shower and change my clothes.

The thought of my sweater and khakis is enough to remind me of the weird way Healey looked me over this morning, which in turn is enough to jolt me out of my Olivia-induced hypnosis and get my eyes back on the road. I can still feel her eyes on me though. I try to coax something definitive out of her. "Well? What did you find out?"

She finally looks away and I'm afraid she's not going to say anything. "Love was never the problem with you," she finally states, simply and cryptically. I wait for her to continue; she faces the window, silent. I'm even more confused now. Is she saying that she knows I love her, but she doesn't feel the same? Or that she loves me but doesn't think that's enough? With all this excess angst I should just hang up my gun and become a character in a John Hughes movie.

The silence continues until we arrive at our destination in Far Rockaway. "The Jeep was registered to a service station?"

I check my notes. "Yeah, to Tony Manfreidi of Manfreidi's All-Serve. Maybe he used it for work." She nods and tries to open the door, but a sudden gust of wind prevents her from doing so. The moment's hesitation is enough for me to have an insight. "Liv, wait. It's possible this guy has information about Paige, but do you think he could be involved too? I mean, the fake address for Eli Page was in Brooklyn."

"That was in Flatbush. This is pretty far from there."

"But when I looked up the map for this place there were two listed – this one and one up the street from Prospect Park."

"And you couldn't mention that earlier?"

She's a little angry, like I've been intentionally holding some information back, and I can hear my voice rise as I reply, "I didn't even think of it 'til just now. The name connected to the other one was Gino, or Pino and I was looking for Tony. It's not like I'm trying to screw up this investigation."

"Sorry, I'm just…" I hear her breath hitch in her throat and she rubs her face with her hands. I start to get a little worried. She seemed so up in the squad room this morning, and now she's about to break down.

I put my hand on her shoulder. "Liv, are you feeling all right?"

She looks up and I'm surprised to see that she doesn't look at all upset. "Yeah. I'm just tired. Okay, so how should we play this?"

I'm a still concerned by the quick mood change, but it's true that she hasn't really had much sleep. I could use a twelve hour crash myself. I get back to the matter at hand. "I say we come out swinging, make him think he's in trouble. If he's innocent he's got nothing to hide. If he's connected to Paige, he might spill."

"We're not that lucky."

"Hey, this has nothing to do with luck. We've been working for this for three days and we deserve a credible witness who'll tell us everything we need to know the moment we show him our badges. We can always take him in for, I don't know, conspiracy or something if he's not in a helpful mood."

She smiles, and I almost think everything really might be okay with her. We get out of my truck and head into the office/waiting room. It's strangely quiet for a gas station. I ring the bell, expecting someone to emerge from the back office. Instead, Olivia and I both jump as a clang and a barrage of swears echo through the door that opens to the garage.

A man in a grubby blue jumpsuit appears from underneath a car on a lift, rubbing his head with an oily hand. Noticing us, he comes to the door to look us over. "What, you two lovebirds get lost on your way to Long Island and need directions or somethin'?" He scrunches up his little pig nose and laughs.

"Tony Manfreidi?" I ask, opening my coat to show the badge on my belt. Olivia holds hers up to exhibit it. I'm suddenly reminded of one of the reasons I was so excited to become a Marshal – I have a star instead of a shield now. It gives me a sense of that old Wyatt Earp government-sanctioned vigilante justice; I get to flash my badge as I'm going for my gun.

The time it takes me to think about being a cowboy is just enough for him to start getting nervous. "Hey, I didn't do nuthin'."

"What, you got a guilty conscience?" Olivia asks in a sarcastic tone that's almost playful. She's smiling at the guy the same way she was smiling at the nut vendor and I suddenly realize why the persona bothers me – it makes me feel like she's more comfortable around them than she is around me, that, despite the way she kissed me last night, she's still more willing to give a guy like this Manfreidi a chance.

I try to stay focused. "We're here about your Jeep."

"I, uh, don't got a Jeep." He starts to back into the garage, looking over his shoulder, whether for backup or an escape route I can't be sure. My hand brushes my badge as I push my coat back and settle my hand on the butt of my gun. He stops abruptly. "I don't want no trouble."

"Why don't you come back in here and sit down then?"

He complies with my request, sitting on the edge of one of the chairs in the office. Olivia takes the other chair, and I try not to smile as she puts on a show of getting comfortable, making the guy more nervous as we make him wait. I lean against the counter, crossing my arms. From the way the guy is looking at her, I can tell he'll be more likely to talk to her. Still, I maintain an icy stare to prevent him from getting any ideas.

She takes out her notebook. "So, you've never owned a Jeep. Then the registration you filed for a 1990 Jeep Grand Wagoneer back in '97 was fake?" She grins as he nods haltingly. "I gotta tell you, Tony, the DMV is a lot faster at processing charges for false paperwork then they are at renewing your license."

I have no idea what kind of crime she could possibly be threatening to charge him with, but he seems to think he could be in enough trouble to break down. "Hey, I didn't do nuthin' like that."

"Then you admit you had the Jeep?"

"Aw, fuck. I shoulda known that was gonna come back to bite me in the ass. Look I know I didn't file the right papers, but it was just cuz I, uh, couldn't figure out all that tax shit."

I love how he's trying to go along with Olivia's paperwork ploy. He must have misread her badge. I can only imagine what the IRS would do if their agents had guns. She goes on, "So you did sell it in December of 2002?"

"Yeah. You guys here to bust me for it?" He looks at her with an expression I can only assume is meant to inspire pity.

She can't hide all her disgust, but continues to smile, keeping up the charade that she's enjoying, or at least enduring the conversation. "That'll depend on what you tell us. How about you start by telling us about the person you sold it to."

"I shoulda known. I shoulda fuckin' known," he mutters to himself. "You guys ain't gonna believe me if I tell you."

Her eyebrow disappears under her bangs. "Try me."

His eyes shift back and forth between us as he says, "Outta the blue this guy calls me up and says he wants to buy my truck. It wasn't for sale or nothin', I didn't put no fuckin' ad in the paper, but he's callin' sayin' he's gonna give me fifteen grand for the thing. Piece of shit wasn't worth more'n a couple thousand, so I took the money. I ain't stupid." He turns and points out the window to a fairly new Ford pick-up. "Got that with the cash that jerk-off gave me for the Jeep."

"Why'd he give you so much for it?"

"Said it useta be his or somethin' and he wanted it back for sentimental reasons." I resist the urge to smack him as little quote bunnies hop through his story. "Said somethin' about how him and his old girlfriend useta drive around in it. I thought he was just a dumbass, but the way the thing went down was kinda shady."

"In what way?" I don't know how she's staying so calm. I'm a little queasy over the fact that, if the stoy is true, Paige stole a small piece of me in order to get to Olivia.

Manfreidi stares at the floor as he eventually answers the question, "I got a paper bag full of cash left on my doorstep. The next day I leave the Jeep at the station with the keys in it. Next morning it's gone. Guys calls me up and says thanks."

I abandon my brooding as I see the perfect opportunity to scare the moron, who looks like he might actually be too dumb to come up with a lie like this. "Are you kidding? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. What, you think we're stupid or something?" I stand up straight, removing my cuffs from the back of my belt. "That Jeep is about to get you pulled in for murder."

"Wait, man!" He jumps from his chair, holding his hands up defensively. "It happened just like I said. I never met the guy, never saw the guy. I just got the money and he got the Jeep. You gotta believe me!" He's sniveling now, repeatedly glancing at the door and Olivia, probably hoping one will save him.

At the moment it looks like he's made the decision to run, Olivia stands and grabs his wrist. "Hey, Tony, there's an easy way for you to get clear of this. You give us your fingerprints, a DNA sample, maybe a polygraph, we'll apologize and we might even make sure that no one finds out about your little tax problem."

He lowers his hands and looks at her hand, still holding his wrist. "Yeah, yeah, whatever you want."

"All right, we'll take you to the local station and we can get you printed and swabbed."

"Yeah, okay." I love how he thinks we're doing him a favor. I don't remember dealing with many people so willing to help us, no matter what kind of threat we make. That alone sets off a red flag and I make a mental note to have him thoroughly checked out. He turns as we take him out to my car and asks, "What about that, uh, pony-graph thing?"

Olivia is hard-pressed not to laugh as I open the back door and put him in. She lets him sweat until we're both inside and I'm pulling out of the parking lot. "Now, for the polygraph, which is just a fancy word for lie detector, we'll want you to come into the city. We can schedule it for tomorrow if you'd like."

"I gotta come into Manhattan for it?" He's still squeamish. He must be hiding something.

"Well, if you're interested in proving you're telling the truth you do. Otherwise, it's a long ride from Far Rockaway to Central Booking in cuffs in the back of a cruiser."

He glances around the back of my car. "No, I'll come. And you guys are gonna fix the tax stuff if I pass the lie detector?"

"No one will bother you about it again."

"And I only have to answer questions about the Jeep for that, right?"

Olivia turns in her seat to smile at him again. "Why? You got something to hide?"

"No, I, uh, just don't wanna, uh…"

"Well?"

"I don't want anyone else finding out about the, uh, tax stuff and, y'know, using it against me."

"We can ensure that it doesn't come up." She faces forward again and I can tell she's enjoying playing this a little dirty. He's probably hoping he has enough in his wallet and checking account to cover the bribe he thinks we're about to ask for.

Since we're being friendly now, I take the opportunity to ask a personal question. "Hey, by the way, is your place connected to the Manfreidi's All-Serve on Union Street?"

"Yeah, that's my uncle's place. You know him?"

"No. Just…curious." Olivia and I exchange glances. Tony Manfreidi has definitely just moved to the head of our list. It takes us about an hour to get him through the red tape at the local precinct. We leave with his prints and an oral swab to drop at the crime lab, and an appointment with him at the 1-6 at 11AM tomorrow. The precinct cops agree to keep an eye on him for us, though he declines their offer for a ride into the city.

Once we're on our way back to Manhattan, I ask, "So, whatdd'ya think?"

"He's hiding something. He was too nervous to be on the up and up. But that story? If he were working with Paige you think he'd have something more believable, even if he had to have it fed to him. Guess we'll have to wait and see what the prints and ponies tell us."

"Heh…pony-graph." We ride in comfortable silence for a few moments. "I wonder if he'll ever find out you don't have to pay taxes on a major sale like a vehicle when you reinvest the money in another one."

She laughs. "Yeah, I didn't think you were gonna be able to keep a straight face when I pulled that one out. Hey, I should call in and tell Cragen what's up."

I tune out as she makes the phone call. Glancing at the clock I judge that everyone at the precinct has probably already eaten and we might get a meal alone together to talk. I wish we could be doing this in other circumstances. Trying to reconnect, I mean. It's funny, but in any situation other than work, where we're being forced to spend time together, she'd never have let me get this close. And now the thing that's bringing us closer is the same thing that isn't letting me get closer, at least not on any terms I can control.

She hangs up and I'm grateful for the chance to get away from my own disjointed thoughts, despite the fact that a moment ago I was happy for the chance to try thinking things through. "They get anything?"

"Not yet. Cragen said everyone is out on a fact finding mission at the moment, so we can probably take our time getting back."

"Hungry?"

"Always. But we've got to stop at the crime lab before we can get lunch."

"What are you in the mood for?"

"Lemme think about it."

She's still mulling it over when we're walking out of the crime lab. "They should have the print report in an hour, tops, so we should probably eat somewhere close."

"Uh-huh."

"Something bugging you?"

I blurt out, "Are you aware of the way you talk to guys like him? Manfreidi, I mean."

I don't think she was expecting the question any more than I was. She starts walking down the sidewalk and I have to jog to catch up to her. We walk without speaking for about a block before she stops short. She faces straight ahead as she says, "Letting them think they might have a chance if they tell me what I want to know? Yeah." She pauses to look at me for a moment. I fight to keep my expression neutral. I wonder how she knows it's the exact thing I was thinking about earlier. "It bothers you, doesn't it."

"Yeah."

"Andy, most men will tell a woman anything if they think they have two things on their side – an escape route and a little hint of sex. I don't like it, but I'm sure as hell gonna use it if it helps me do my job." She's so sexy when she gets passionate about her job. Or when she stands on the street looking at me curiously like she is now. "Now how would you feel if I started acting like that toward you?"

"After what you just told me? Hopelessly depressed." She looks at me critically and I realize what she's really just said – she's not treating me like someone she's using. And that means the kiss wasn't a hoax. It was real. I manage to stumble through a rationalization, "So the, uh, distance is a compliment?"

"Andy…" I catch the warning in her tone.

"I know, after the case is over.," I say, disappointed. I'm tempted to tell her I wouldn't be so eager to talk if she hadn't kissed me last night, but I don't want her to regret doing it.

She gives me a look but says nothing further. She moves on to lunch. "I want something with noodles. Chinese, spaghetti, whatever." I hope we end up someplace noisy where the lack of meaningful conversation won't be as obvious. To me anyway.