Author's Note: First and foremost, I am so sorry for not updating sooner. But school's been insanely busy, I'm in a production of Babes and Toyland, I got sick recently and either I just didn't feel like writing, I've had too much homework or my laptop wouldn't work…. It's just been a frickin' tough month. So I am sorry for not updating this story sooner, and hopefully I still have a few readers. I am not sure when chapter 6 is coming – maybe over Thanksgiving break? I'm not sure yet. Please don't hate me!

Disclaimer: I own our trio of crazy girls and the guy with the flashlight. Thaaaaaat's about it.

Chapter 5: Anticipation
By the time Olivia and Kathy showed up at Cynthia's house, night had fallen, and they were about ready to kill each other. Rather than have a catfight, however – which probably would have pleased most male SVU fans very, very much – they had resulted in 4th grade name-calling.

"Poop head!" Kathy mocked Olivia.

"Dummy!"

"Booger brain!"

"Fart breath!"

"Puke face!"

"Stupid-head!"

They rang the doorbell.

An older bearded man with glasses opened the door.

"Hello, I'm Detective Olivia Benson," Olivia said, cheerful as a Girl Scout selling cookies. "I'm looking for Cynthia, does she live here?"

"She does, but she's not here," The man said, his face darkening. "She hasn't been home in about two days."

The man suddenly looked between Olivia and Kathy.

"…. You two aren't from that show, are you? That show Cynthia likes so much?"

"Well I am," Olivia said smugly. "She has been named a Special Guest Appearance because she is divorcing the best, handsomest, funniest, devoted, loyal, most intelligent, huggable man she could ever imagine coming in contact with."

Kathy stared.

"…. Did I just say that out loud?" Olivia mused.

"Why… you… little…"

Olivia elbowed her in the stomach, and Kathy doubled over, hacking.

"Anyway," Olivia composed herself. "Does she disappear frequently?"

The man shrugged. "She disappears a lot, but she always comes home. It's that nutty club of hers. They leave and drive around and try to find some guy named Stabler, but Cynthia always comes home eventually."

"What can you tell us about this club?"

"Not much. Cynthia just started it recently."

"Did she say where she might be going?"

"Well, actually yes. She said something about meeting up at Misty's house…."

"Misty! Perfect! Do you know where she lives?" Olivia brought out her pad.

Kathy straightened and glared at Oliva. "Bitch."

"Whore. Do you know where she lives?"

"Her last name is Ambrose, I think, but I'm not sure."

Olivia jotted that down. "And the address?"

"Sorry, can't help you there."

"Thank you, sir, you've been a great help. Good night."

The door closed.

"That's it!" Kathy turned on Olivia, her face a mask of fury. "I've had enough of this! You're not making any progress, Elliot is still in danger, and you called me a whore! This is the last straw!"

She advanced on Olivia, as if she were about to hit her. Instinctively, Olivia backed up but –––

Suddenly, the guy with the flashlight leapt out in front of Olivia, blocking her from Kathy.

Kathy let out a little screech of surprise, "Holy shit! What the hell are you doing!"

"Something that Quirky Writer's reviewers and everyone who watches SVU has wanted to do for a really, really, really long time," The guy with the flashlight said menacingly.

And before Kathy could react, the guy with the flashlight threw the flashlight at her. For a moment it spiraled majestically through the air, and then it hit its target – CLUNK – right in the center of her forehead. Kathy immediately crumpled to the floor, unconscious. The flashlight flew back into its master's hand like a boomerang, and he caught it mid-air.

"I am so getting a recurring role in Quirky Writer's fanfictions," he said smugly.

Elliot had been let out of the chair, on the condition that he would be watched at all times by Alma. He was still handcuffed but, after some debating, they had agreed that Elliot's hands could be in front of him rather than behind, allowing him some more comfort. He had crashed on the couch, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Until, that is, Alma decided to wake him….

"Elliot?"

In the darkness, Elliot squinted. He could just make out Alma standing a few feet away from the couch. How the hell did she get down here without him hearing! What was she? One of those horny fembots from Austin Powers or something?

"Alone at last," Alma said in a silky voice.

Oh God.

There were a couple of soft clunks as something hit the floor around him repeatedly, and then there was a loud click, and Alma's manically grinning face was illuminated by a small metal lighter. And to Elliot's terror, he realized that she was lighting candles.

And not just plain candles.

Oh, no.

They were scented candles.

... Lavender scented candles.

Why? Why, God, why?

In the light of the dozen or so candles, Elliot saw – again, to his absolute horror – that she was wearing pink, lacy lingerie.

"I just bought it last week at Victoria's Secret especially for you." She said brightly. "You like it?"

"Nope," He shook his head furiously, and averted his eyes. "Not at all."

"Oh reeeeally?" She said, a purr in her voice.

"Yes. Really."

"Well maybe I should take it off, then….."

"No!" His eyes were firmly fixed on the wall opposite him. "Please, Alma, don't do this."

"Why not?" Alma's voice was still smooth.

"Because I'm not even vaguely attracted to you!" Elliot burst out. "You kidnap me, starve me, mentally scar me, keep me away from my family and everyone I love, and you think that after all this shit, I'll want to sleep with you? You are one exceptionally crazy slut."

"But I'm pretty! Guys like to have sex with pretty girls!"

"Are you kidding me? You repulse me. I'd rather have sex with…. With…. With…. Cragen!"

Ewwwww…. Very bad mental image. Oh well, Elliot thought, desperate times call for desperate measures.

"…. You don't think I'm pretty?" She blinked. "No one's ever said that to me before…."

"Well, the truth hurts,"

"But I'm pretty."

"Not to me, you're not."

"Why not? Why don't you love me?"

"Love you! I loathe you! I think you're disgusting. I'm old enough to be your father. And I'm…. well, I'm separated, and she hates my guts for some reason, but technically I'm still married! And sex outside of marriage is a sin. So… you lose."

"…. Please?" She inched closer. "I can change your mind, I know I can. And you and Kathy have been separated for how long? And I bet you haven't done it in a reeeeeeally long time."

"Alma, I am not having sex with you!"

"I'm not asking you to have sex with me!" Alma snapped. "I am asking you to let me make sweet, passionate love to you!"

"I don't want any sweet passionate love made to me by you!" Elliot shouted.

"Shhhhh!" Alma clamped a hand over Elliot's mouth.

He spoke furiously through it. She ignored him.

Alma leaned closer, stepping carefully across the candles, until she was at the couch, and she climbed on top of Elliot, straddling him.

"You know you want to be seduced, Elliot!" She giggled quietly. "I can tell."

She removed her hand and, lickety-split, kissed him before he could yell out. Elliot resolutely kept his mouth closed, thinking triumphantly to himself that no, she would NOT be getting any tongue from him.

Alma broke from him and slapped a hand over his mouth again, scowling. "You're no fun, Elliot! But I can change your mind."

She then leaned down and, with her free hand, grabbed a roll of duct tape. And upon seeing this, Elliot began to jerk about violently, twisting and trying to get away from her, but Alma's grip was freakishly strong.

"Don't be mad at me," She said and held the end of the piece of duct tape between her teeth, and tore it off with her other hand. The roll of duct tape fell.

What happened next was incredibly quick.

Before she could put the duct tape over his mouth, Elliot threw all of his weight into his left shoulder, rocked back and forth for a second, and then rolled off the couch.

"Iiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!" Alma emitted a loud shriek as the two fell, narrowly avoiding the candles.

Elliot scrambled to his feet, leapt over the candles, and started running for the steps.

"Noooooooooooo!" She screeched, hobbling after him. "Misty! HEY MISTY! He's escaping! He's escaaaaaaaaaaaaaping!"

He was up the stairs, almost to the door. He was nearly there!

The door suddenly flew open.

Elliot skidded to a halt, but couldn't duck in time –

– WHAM! –

Misty hit Elliot squarely in the face with The Mallet, and Elliot toppled head over heels down the stairs.

"I win!" Misty sang. She went down the steps and then squinted at the sight that lay before her: Alma spread-eagled on the carpet, her pink lingerie barely covering her privates, grasping the roll of duct tape as if it were a lifesaver, while at least a dozen candles dripped pungent wax on the carpet.

"…. You are an appallingly bad seductress."

I hope that quenched your appetite - at least, for now!

Love,

Q.W.