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"We're doing what?" She asks, glaring menacingly at her captain. She's done enough stings in her lifetime to treat them like basic chores. But it's been a while since she's heard of one like this. She's insecure enough as it is, lately. She blames it on getting older and having no one to help her. Her partner, who has been separated from his wife for months, has been strictly professional with her lately, and she's been hearing stuff from the rumor mill about how he's finally gotten back into the dating game. She pretends that she doesn't care.

Her partner comes around the desk to sit next to her, giving her a warning look that she chooses to ignore. "Why, Captain?" He asks innocently. He's curious, and he also realizes this operation would allow him to see his partner in a different setting, with much sexier clothes. He knows he's been treating her coldly lately, but the whole bachelor life has backed him into a glum corner. If only she knew that the only woman he wants is her, maybe she'd be more understanding.

"They call themselves the 'You Only Live Once' Coalition. It's basically an excuse to allow adults to party like they're still in high school without being embarrassed. Think of it as a mature rave, without the drugs and the illegal alcohol." The Captain rattles off. "I don't like this either, but two women have reported being sexually assaulted in the hotel rooms above the coalition's ball room. We need to investigate."

She rolls her eyes. "Undercover?" She sounds petulant. Any moment now, she'll start whining, she knows. Elliot looks over at her again, raising a finger that's placed lightly on her arm. She shoots him a confused look, as if to say, "Why are you touching me?" What she wants to do is bury her face in his neck. This is not what she wanted to do; lately she's been feeling insecure about herself, and now she has to go dancing like a professional clubber? Damn karma.

"Yes, undercover." Captain Cragen gives her a stern silent reprimand. "It's not just you; Elliot, Munch and Fin will be having an enjoyable time with you also." He looks almost happy. He's probably laughing at their situation. She's itching to slap that Cheshire cat grin off his face.

"What's bugging you, Liv?" He asks, concern written on his face. "You seem more irritated than usual." His features betray him, as a small smile conquers his mouth.

She sinks down into her chair with a sigh. "Nothing you'd understand." She retorts, voice laced with bitterness and hurt. "Leave it alone, El."

He loves it when she calls him that. It's the way it sounds rolling off her tongue so effortlessly, like they're meant to be using pet-names, to be friends, maybe to be together. "Really? Try me. You might be pleasantly surprised." Sh!t, is that flirting?

Her eyes widen for a second, but she doesn't visibly react. She leans back in her chair, pinning him with a glare that's both daring but suspicious. "Uh huh." She raises her eyebrow. "You want the truth?" She waits for his vigorous nod before continuing, "I feel like I'm getting too old to be doing this sort of thing. I mean, come on, El. I'm going on 40, I don't want to be wearing a midriff-exposing shirt. Jesus!" Her exclamation is provoked because he rapidly twirls her chair so she's sitting in front of him with him sitting on her desk. She didn't know he could move that fast.

"Look at me." He growls. She acquiesces. "What is it, Liv?" He asks again in a softer tone. "Why are you insecure? Do you think you're unattractive?" He almost sucks in a breath at her grievous lapse of judgment.

She looks up at him, taken aback. But his words mirror what she's been whirling in her brain. "Kind of." She whispers. "I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm not that shallow, looks aren't everything." She sniffs. "But, let's face it. I'm getting old. I have no significant other, I'm a career woman. My time for that kind of stuff… it's running out." Damn, the truth hurts.

He opens his mouth to speak, but she silences him with a finger to his lips. "Hush, Elliot. It's okay." Her eyes sparkle with the acceptance of her skewed fate. "Let me go think this through at home, walk it off. That kind of thing. Alright?"

He'd do anything to comfort her, if she would only give him a chance.


He nods, picking up her coat after sliding off her desk. "Here." He tries to hand it to her, but she's busy looking for something in her desk drawer. Without meaning to, his eyes end up gazing at her hair. He wants to sink his fingers into it. She straightens, and he gathers himself. She looks around confusedly; she didn't see him pick up her coat.

He holds it out to her, but opts for putting it on for her instead. His hands linger on her shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay?" He's actually stroking it.

"Yeah." She shrugs him off. If he wants to suddenly be fatherly, he should've done it weeks ago, instead of falling into her misery haphazardly. "I'm fine."

He looks at her with a mild frown, his eyes dark with confusion. He doesn't understand why she's treating him different. He's the one who's supposed to be moody and brooding, and now she doesn't want his help? His solace? His shoulders drop with sadness. "Okay. See you later?"

"I guess so." There's no goodbye, just an indefinite statement. He wants a guarantee.


At a quarter to 8, he looks up, realizing she left her report on her desk. The red tab makes him realize it's the new undercover operation information. Only his Liv would leave something like that after having second thoughts about the whole thing.

"I should take it to her." Is his first rational thought. He can't be blamed for popping in to see her, right?


As he knocks on her solid door, he hears strains of music flowing through the door. It's not anything he's heard before. He has a key from a few years ago, and he opens the door. The volume is intensified.

His partner is moving; no, bouncing around her apartment. She's wearing a tank top and shorts, feet pounding the carpet to the hip-hop music blaring through her stereo. He stands in the doorway, jaw dropping farther and farther every time she jumps.

"Liv?" He whispers. She doesn't hear him, but her reflexes are good, and she turns around, sensing something is wrong.

"Who… Oh. Elliot. What are you doing here?" She offers no explanation for her childish behavior.

"What?" He tries to get out of his stupor. "Oh. Uh, you left this at the precinct." He hands her the folder. Then he gives her a flirty look and says, "I didn't know you liked hip-hop."

She smiles sweetly. "Normally, I don't. But I took the CD out of the folder before I left. Figured that I would need to listen to the music before making my choice. But you saved me a trip. Thanks."

He smiles, moving over to her living room, and sitting down on her couch.

"You just make yourself at home." She says, voice dripping with grumpiness and defeat.

"I plan to." He retorts, running a hand through his hair.

"If you're here, we might as well get started." She says, sighing as she plops down next to him.

For a second, he's thinking about dancing with her, bodies close together, jumping up and down, shifting in unison. She can't mean that, right? He swallows.

"Let's get into character." She says, feet touching his as she opens the folder. Their close contact makes him giddy. Insecurities are forgotten.