Summary: A hysterical teenaged girl says her best friend was murdered and sexually assaulted, but when Elliot and Olivia show up at the crime scene, three rabid fangirls kidnap him, and knock out Olivia. Can Olivia, Munch, and the rest of the SVU team find Elliot before the unthinkable happens? Or will the crafty fangirls torture Elliot with their vast knowledge of SVU trivia until he cries? Or will Elliot have to save himself from the girls' sexual advances? A humorous, sort-of sequel to "The Kiss".

Disclaimer: I own Cynthia, Alma, and Misty, but Benson, Stabler, Munch, Fin, Cragen and everyone else belongs to the oh-so-lovely Dick Wolf.

Rated: T for some sexuality and brief strong language.

Kidnapping Elliot Stabler

By Quirky Writer

Chapter 1: Abduction

Just when they thought for sure that their work was finally over, that they could go home and rest for a day or two, Benson and Stabler were faced with yet another sex crime.

They had finally caught their perp – a slimy, unpleasant WalMart cashier called Vincent Drapella, who was nevertheless elusive – who'd been raping and then strangling women, then dumping the bodies in front of restaurants. After calling for back-up, Benson and Stabler caught him in his home, watching television in just his underwear and socks. At the sight of the dozen or so police officers wielding rather ominous black guns, Drapella instantly burst into tears and warbled before anyone even said a word, "I diiiiiiiid iiiiiiit! I kiiiilled them! I'm sowwy! Pwease don't huwrt me!"

Drapella was read his rights – although they weren't worth a damn now, since he had unwittingly confessed to the murders – and was now sitting, handcuffed, in Munch's squad car, still sobbing and shaking, waiting to be taken to the precinct.

Now Benson and Stabler were walking towards the car, chatting amicably, and very glad to go home early for once,

"Can you believe that idiot actually confessed?"

"And to think we called in back-up," Stabler shook his head, grinning. "Pansy."

They laughed.

They were only a few feet away from the car, when they heard the scream.

"Did you hear that?" Stabler's head whipped around, trying to find where and who it came from.

"There," Olivia pointed.

A short, blonde girl, maybe in her late teens, wearing a bright red sweater, was half-running, half-limping towards them. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, her jeans were torn.

"Help!" She screamed, her voice raspy. "Help! Help me, please!"

She stumbled and fell to the pavement. Olivia and Elliot ran to her, and helped her stand.

"Sweetie, calm down, calm down," Olivia said in a pacifying voice, "Tell me your name."

"Cynthia," She choked out between sobs. "Please – my friend, you've got to help her…."

"Tell us what happened," Elliot said.

"W-w-we were taking a shortcut through the alley," Cynthia whimpered. "Me and my best friend Alma. And then this man jumped out from behind some garbage cans. He hit me.… knocked me to the ground, put a gun to my head and told me to stay down. Then he grabbed Alma and stuffed his hand down her shirt. She screamed, and…. and he shot her. I think she's dead!"

She began to sob uncontrollably, rocking back and forth. She clung to Olivia, wrapping her arms around her waist. It was then that Olivia realized that Cynthia's sweater was not red; it was drenched in warm blood.

"Which alley?" Elliot asked fiercely.

Wordlessly, Cynthia pointed.

Elliot turned and began to run.

"El–" Olivia began, but Cynthia suddenly stepped back.

"Sorry, sister," She said, as Olivia turned back towards her. "He's mine now!"

A rather hard, heavy object suddenly struck the back of Olivia's skull. She crumpled to the ground, blood trickling through her hair, down her neck.

The last thing she noticed was that on the tips of her sneakers, Cynthia had written "SVU FAN" in big, purple letters.

Stabler skidded to a halt in front of a dark, shadowy alley, pausing briefly to take out his gun, and then hurrying into the alley, dodging knocked over garbage cans and puddles.

There was a scurrying, scratching sound.

"Police!" He shouted. "Show yourself!"

There was silence. Elliot moved in deeper. It was very difficult to see; everything looked alike.

Then he saw the shape of a woman – Alma – lying face-up on the ground, her eyes open, her mouth agape, tongue lolling from her mouth. Her shirt was stained with blood, it pooled around her. Elliot knelt beside her, and put a hand to her throat. His heart leapt – there was a pulse! A steady, healthy pulse. Miraculous.

"Olivia!" He bellowed over his shoulder. "Call EMS! Hurry!"

He turned back to Alma. She was older than Cynthia, probably in her mid-twenties, slim, and had chestnut brown hair and a long nose. If she weren't seriously injured, she would have looked comical, with her tongue flopped out of her mouth ridiculously. Alma suddenly blinked, and gazed up at Elliot with slightly crossed, unfocused eyes.

"Alma," He whispered to her, "Alma, can you hear me? I'm a police officer, you've been shot. We're sending an ambulance. Can you talk to me? Tell me how you're feeling."

"... Sexy!"

And to Elliot's utter bewilderment, Alma sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, practically leaping into his lap.

"What the hell!" Elliot tried to pry her off him; her grip was like steel. "What're you doing?"

Alma was furiously rubbing her hand across his bristly, rapidly receding hair. "I love your hair, Elliot," She purred.

That was it – no one screwed with his hair.

Elliot stood up, and Alma fell heavily to the ground, emitting a loud, "Ooof!" and then giggling like a kindergartener who had been given excessive amounts of sugar. Elliot started to walk away, pissed off and ready to complain to Olivia, but then another girl appeared out of nowhere, blocking his path,

"Get 'im, Misty!" Alma screeched.

And before Elliot could react, the mystery girl promptly whacked him on top of his head with a very hard object, and he immediately blacked out.

Cynthia, Alma, and Misty had some minor trouble hauling Elliot into the truck. But after some, some minor bickering and a quick resolution, Elliot was finally shoved into the back, rather cramped – even when stretched out – across the passenger seats thanks to his 6-foot-frame.

"Think he's going to wake up anytime soon?" Cynthia panted. She had stripped off her ketchup-soaked sweater and left it at the "crime scene", along with Alma's T-shirt. Alma was now proudly strutting around in her pink, lacy push-up bra and jeans.

"Doubtful," Misty replied. She was a tall, slightly plump woman, around 30, with very large blue eyes and wispy reddish hair pulled back in a ponytail. "I hit him pretty hard. He should be out for at least an hour."

Alma turned on Misty threateningly, "I swear to God, if you killed him…."

"Grow up," Misty snapped back. She held up giant, blow-up mallet, with a look of reverence that suggested she held the Holy Grail in her hands. "The Mallet always does its work with sensitivity."

Alma rolled her eyes and ignored her comment. "I'm sitting in back with him."

"What? NO!" Misty trilled. "If he wakes up then you're going to end up molesting him!"

"I will not!" Alma exclaimed, insulted. "I will not molest him! We shall make sweet, passionate love – the kind of amorous, adoring, poignant lovemaking that an insignificant speck of a human being such as you could never, ever comprehend!"

They glared at each other for a moment. Cynthia heaved a sigh, and checked her watch. Any second now, the dam would burst and all the anger would break through….

"Idiot." Misty said.

"Moron." Alma promptly returned.

"Airhead."

"Chickenshit."

"Bitch!"

"Fatty!"

"Slut!"

"Whore!"

"CAR!" Cynthia screamed.

The ladies immediately ran to their designated stations – Alma, blocking the license plate, Cynthia blocking the front plate, and Misty blocked the passenger seat window by Elliot.

The car passed.

Cynthia sighed, relieved, "Great they're gone. Okay, guys, let's quit fighting. We are three intelligent adults, and we cheapen this noble cause when we bicker. Don't you realize what we have achieved? My friends," She spread her arms wide, "We have kidnapped Elliot Stabler!"

The trio sighed dreamily.

"Now…. to The Fort!"

"I GET TO SIT WITH ELLIOT!" Alma yelled.

A/N: More to come…. Read and review, rate from 1 to 5. Hope you'll like it as much as "The Kiss"! The reviews for it were so overwhelmingly lovely, thank you so much! Your kind encouragement meant a lot to me. Thanks again!

Love,

Q.W.