sorry for how long it took me to update- mid-terms, family issues, and my research paper on Tolstoy sort of got in the way. being a sophomore in high school is not supposed to be so goddamn strenuous!

thank you all SO MUCH for your comments- I can't believe people are liking this story! for everyone who has been singing "Kiss the Girl" for the past two chapters, just hold your breath a little longer. I'm not saying this exact chapter, but I am saying later on perhaps…

I am such a moocher…I make a cameo in this chapter. for all of you going OMGWTF right now, I am an avid Nordic skier, who is wearing her hair in pigtails this very minute as I do every ski race (we had ours cancelled today- damn rain!) so I'm the pigtailed ski girl. yup. I'm a loser.

As she slipped out of her yoga pants and back into the khakis, she could feel everything 'Olivia Benson' about herself falling away, replaced by the stark white of Lauren Tracy. She imagined Lauren was more professional than she was; her pants always pressed, her hair always perfect, her face always in a pleasant smile that was more business-like than friendly. It would have been so easy to assume the role and get this over with, but he was here. He was here and he was catching her eye and holding her arm, and suddenly it was very hard to remember who you were.

Partner. Partner partner partner. She told herself. Not lover. Not friend. Not even friend with benefits. Just partner.

"You ready yet?" He poked his head into the bathroom, only to catch her as she pulled her leg into the pant.

She practically fell back into the shower, and he hurried over to catch her hand before she fell. His fingers were warm against her palm, his grip stronger than hers. "Partner!" She hissed to herself as she was lifted up and into his chest.

"What?" He stared down at her with a confused look before pushing her away, sensing the awkwardness in their position.

"Nothing. Where are we going?"

"Into the town. I figure we should start doing what we came for."

"Getting stalked?" She ventured, grinning lopsidedly.

"Investigating." He shot over his shoulder, but she saw laughter in his eyes. She took his hand when he offered it, not afraid to turn a little red. Olivia Benson or not, she was his wife right now, and she had no problem with that.

The town was small but very quaint, a ski resort village with a small supermarket, a few restaurants, and a number of ski shops.

"Uh, Elliot?" She asked as she peered into the back of the SUV, driving down the main street. "We wouldn't happen to be doing any investigating on the slopes, would we?" She nodded at the skis behind her, raising her eyebrow at him.

"Not the slopes, no."

"So we're just accessorizing?"

"We're going to do some real exercise." He grinned widely, and then turned back to the road.

She continued to raise her eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. "You realize I have absolutely no idea how to downhill ski, right?"

"I realize that, seeing as I don't either."

"So you're just itching for a cup of tea with the chiropractor?" Olivia tried not to laugh. "Because you know if we go skiing, you will most definitely fall and break your back."

"We're not downhill skiing: we're Nordic skiing!" He said triumphantly, waving towards the skis in the back with a flourish of his mittened hand.

She stared blankly at him. Yes, he had gone insane. "And the difference is…?"

"Downhill is Alpine skiing, and you don't get very much exercise. Nordic is cross-country, and it's a great workout."

"How do you know this?"

"My mom used to take me up to the Catskills when I was little, and she taught me how. Granted I haven't done this for about twenty years, but I think I remember."

When they got to the lodge, it was pretty clear he didn'tremember.

"Wait- I need wax?" He stared blankly at the pig-tailed girl behind the counter, who was holding out an iron and a chunk of what looked like soap.

"You don't have waxless skis, sir. If you don't wax these, you'll have absolutely no control."

"Trust me- he won't have control either way." Olivia said, peeking over his shoulder. Elliot rolled his eyes at her.

"She's jealous because I have more experience than her." Elliot explained to the girl, who nodded slowly, looking perplexed.

"Yeah, right."

"Okay, do you know how to wax?" The girl asked, staring from the iron to Elliot's eager smile.

"Sure. How hard can it be?" He took the iron and chunk from her hands and set his ski on the table. "You just take this soap stuff-"

"I think that's the wax, Elliot." Olivia said, trying not to laugh.

"Of course it is! I knew that!" He shot angrily over his shoulder, bending over the ski. "You rub the wax on the ski, and then you…uh…you do it again…uh…"

Olivia rolled her eyes. "What's the iron for, Nordic Man?"

"Well, it's for…um…" He stared at the iron with a touch of anger in his eyes, frustrated by its lack of help in the issue. "I guess you…" He began to rub it into the wax, which did not help.

"Sir," The girl ran up, grabbing the objects from his hands. "You are definitely going to ruin your skis, no offense." She carefully removed the skis from the table. "Why don't I give these to one of the boys, and they'll do it for you?"

"Sounds great." He said, shrugging reluctantly. Olivia handed the girl her own skis as well, grinning at her partner.

"Cross country expert, huh?"

"Shut up." He tied up his boots, glaring at her.

"Well, don't quit your day job for a lifetime in Finland, okay?"

"We're not really here to ski, so what does it matter?"

"What are we here for?"

"Cragen's going to call my cell out here."

"If we get service."

"We will get service. I'm going way out in the woods and he's going to give us an update. Apparently, they've made some progress."

"And it's so nice to know we'll get some exercise in the process." Olivia said, winking at him. Elliot rolled his eyes and thanked the man now coming back with his skis, ready for powder.

Elliot was not the self-proclaimed skier he had originally made himself out to be, and Olivia was doing much better than he by the time they reached the second loop of trails.

"Lift your ski!" She yelled back to him as he struggled across the flat, slipping in the track. "Are you sure you-"

"Yes! I think I know how to do this, Olivia." He grumbled back, glaring up at her from the brim of his wool hat. She hid a laugh and studied the map on the tree beside her.

"I think we'll be at Katherine's Run by the time Cragen calls." She shot him a sideways glance. "Or Lex's Loop, if we keep this speed."

"Are they isolated?"

"Very."

"Fine." He struggled past her, his poles flailing alongside him. He turned around and rolled his eyes when she did not immediately follow. "Well, are we going to get there on time or not?"

"I'm just giving you a head start." She said, shrugging innocently.

"I'll give you a head start." He threatened, glaring menacingly over his shoulder before taking off down a hill. Olivia did not have to wait long to hear the familiar cry and splat as he hit the ground halfway down the slope.

"Understand my logic?" She said as she glided past him, swinging her skis beside her and coming to a graceful stop at the bottom of the hill.

"You always have wonderful points." Elliot struggled to his feet, using a tree for support. When he fell back down again, she skied up to him and gave him her hand.

"Need a lift, Nordic Man?" She grinned at him, but he gave her a thankful smile in return. She suddenly felt very guilty for picking on him. When his arm gave a tug and pulled her to the ground with him, she could only laugh.

But when laughter subsided, she found herself on top of him, her nose touching his. She stared awkwardly into his eyes, and blushed when she saw the expression in them.

BEEEEEEP!

The cell phone interrupted their moment however, and Elliot awkwardly reached into his pocket to pull it out, avoiding her eye. She too turned away, getting back to her feet and keeping a distance from where he lay in the snow. Had she just done that? Had she just stared into his eyes that way?

"Good afternoon to you too, Captain." Elliot was avoiding her eye, lucky for her. Staring back into those things again would be traumatizing.

Plus she didn't think she'd ever be able to look away.

Donald Cragen rubbed his temples, nudging the phone at his ear with his shoulder. The captain of the special victims unit was supposed to know how to 'keep his cool' no matter what stressful situation came his way, but today was going to be one of those damned 'exceptions to the rules.'

First, there was the file in his hands. Huang did a psycho-analysis-thing (Cragen never understood science…really) on the perp, and now the profile had completely changed.

"He's going to be very proud of what he does, thus doing it in a room beside her husband. He's probably only cocky in the bedroom though; Huang says you should be looking for a timid guy, not the brash type we were thinking of before. The police were interviewing all the wrong guys. He has to know exactly what he's doing though: he timed the drugs just right, and he knew how they were going to work."

"Shy genius chemist. Right. I'm sure that will be much easier." Cragen could tell by Elliot's expression that the bastard was rolling his eyes.

"More good news, then. Rodney Johnson is talking."

"Tara's husband?"

"Yeah, and he's got a lot more to say than when Munch and Fin first questioned him."

"Like what?"

"Like how his wife told him about some man who she saw a few times at the hotel. Seems Tara wasn't alone all the time after all. Shifty Eyed Stranger was always following her."

"A stalker?"

"She might have been exaggerating. But whoever this guy was, he was spooking her enough to get her stressed out over it."

"Any of the other women see him?"

"None of their husbands reported it, but let's face the facts. Those poor men were so stunned by the media hype and their wife's face being plastered across the news…I doubt they were able to remember much after the fifth person wanted an interview."

"So by the time they were ready to talk, too many people had already questioned them?"

"The police talked to them first, but they were never able to say much. Luckily for us, Tara has yet to receive any hype, so Rodney told us about the stalker."

"Did she describe what he looks like, or where he was?"

Cragen stared down at the file in his hands. "The pool has some rooms overlooking it, right? Well, she saw someone watching her while she was in the pool, and a few minutes later he was down by the pool, just sitting there watching her."

"Real conspicuous."

"Reading a newspaper, but his eyes weren't exactly staying on the sports page. He did this for two days, and also followed her down to breakfast, the gym, you name it."

"Did she ever try to confront him?"

"He was always too far away, or disappeared when she tried to approach him."

"That's helpful. Shy indeed, but no genius."

"He's a rapist, Elliot. We're not looking for brain surgeons, just psychos."

"So I need to keep an eye out for him. Got it."

"Take care of yourself while you're doing it. And keep an eye on Liv, too- I know she probably would like to handle it herself, but you've got to watch her back."

"What else are partners for but getting some back?"

Cragen blinked. Had he just detected something strangely pervy in that sentence? Wow, it was definitely going to be a weird day. Must have been that fishy taste in his coffee- Munch and Fin had been doing something to the plumbing, he knew it.

As Cragen hung up, he glanced Munch and Fin through the blinds, hovering dangerously by the coffee machine. Munch was dialing his cell phone- Fin was giggling.

Giggling.

This could only mean trouble.