DISCLAIMER: Don't own anything, let alone these two. Borrowed for entertainment purposes only and returned no worse for the wear.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.

Stabler's Roses
By DiNovia

The petite, raven-haired firestorm that was Tracey Kibre stalked into the squad room of the Manhattan SVU unit. Her eyes slowly swept the room--from John Munch's keenly interested owl eyes staring at her from behind thick glasses to Olivia Benson's conspicuously empty desk. Then her eyes caught their prey.

"YOU!" She pointed at Elliot Stabler and narrowed her eyes dangerously. "In Cragen's office! Now!"

Elliot--eyes wide with shock--nearly fell over the back of his chair as he scrambled to obey the order. Kibre ignored him and stalked on to Don Cragen's office, barging through the closed door without knocking. By the time Elliot reached the office, a very confused and somewhat frightened-looking Cragen was fleeing it.

"What the hell did you do this time, Elliot?" he hissed, stopping for a brief second as he passed his detective.

Elliot shrugged, his face the epitome of a question mark.

Kibre growled impatiently. "Detective, I will not ask you again!"

You didn't ask the first time, thought Elliot as he entered the office. However, he wisely kept that observation to himself.

The door slammed behind him and someone lowered the blinds in the office windows, shuttering them as fast as was humanly possible.

Cragen, at a loss, sat at Elliot's desk as he, Munch, and Fin all stared at the small room at the end of the squad. After a moment, feminine tones rose and fell. Though the three men could not make out the entire conversation--or even the gist of it--they did understand a word here and there.

goddamn, idiotic, jarheaded and--strangely enough--satin fucking sheets, which had been shouted quite loudly.

"Yo, Cap'n...Elliot gettin' a piece of that?" asked Fin, looking more confused than titillated.

Cragen shrugged. He had no idea. And he didn't want to know.

The crash of something glass arrested their attention for a moment. Then the shouting started again.

"That's a heavy case of woman trouble," said John, leaning back in his chair. "I haven't heard such a one-sided shouting match since my second wife found out I'd bet her whole paycheck on the ponies."

"Shit, man, I don' unnerstand why any woman would marry you, let alone four. You ain't made o'money, you're freaky as shit, an' you fugly. Fuuuuugly. How you get four sane women to marry you?"

Munch's eyebrows rose above his glasses. "Did I say they were sane?"

Fin snorted but Cragen ignored him. He could not fathom what Elliot had done but whatever it was, he was certainly getting an earful. He wondered if he was going to have to smooth out relations with the entire Homicide department of the DA's office or if this was an isolated incident. Because he sure as Hell didn't want Jack McCoy on his ass later.

A short silence got the listeners' attention only to be broken by another shout. This one could have probably been heard on the street below.


There was another brief silence and then the door flew open. Tracey Kibre blew out of the SVU squad as quickly as she had blown in and she said absolutely nothing in parting.

Cragen listened to the click of her heels until he was certain she wasn't coming back. Then he rose and took a few steps toward his office, wondering how bad it looked.

Elliot, white as a sheet yet somewhat bemused, exited his boss's domain.

"Elliot, what'd you do?" asked Munch. "I might be able to help you smooth it over with her. Whatever it is, I probably did it to one of my wives, too."

Elliot shook his head. "You got it all wrong, Munch. All. Wrong."

"Then what did you do, Elliot? And am I going to be hearing from Branch about it?" Cragen's brows crowded low over his eyes.

The detective didn't answer. Instead, he asked a question of his own.

"Did any of you know that Liv is dating Casey?"

When his only response was a trio of dumbfounded, owlish stares, he asked another question.

"And did any of you know that today is Kibre's first anniversary...with ADA Gaffney?"

Silence hung in the squad room like a thick fog.

Cragen started to see the shape of the problem.

"When Olivia was shot by that perp last night, you didn't call Casey, did you?"

Elliot shook his head. "It was a through and through. The docs said they'd bandage it, give her some pain meds, and send her home later today when she woke up. I didn't think about Casey until I remembered that Liv was supposed to be in court this morning to testify on the Amato case. So I called her. She hung up on me right after I said, 'I'm calling because Liv can't be in court today. She's down at Memorial getting patched up.'"

Cragen gaped at him.

"And a panicked ADA Novak probably called EADA Kibre to ask her if she could take care of the continuance this morning, right?"

Elliot nodded slowly.

"And she and ADA Gaffney were probably...otherwise engaged...when Casey called, it being their first anniversary and all. Right?"


Cragen blinked twice.

"So let me get this straight..." Everyone ignored Munch's snort. "You panicked one ADA unnecessarily which caused the interruption to the first anniversary celebration of an EADA and another ADA. And you did this all on the same night that your partner, a woman licensed to carry any number of deadly weapons, was shot."

Now it was Elliot's turn to blink.

"Four dozen roses."

The detective frowned and looked over his shoulder as if expecting someone to be standing behind him. Someone else his captain might say those words to.


"Four dozen roses. No, make it five. Four dozen yellow--a dozen each for the four women who will likely be forming a hunting party for you tomorrow--and a dozen red for Kathy--because God knows, she deserves them. And it's coming out of your own pocket, Elliot. Maybe that will get you to be a little more considerate of these women's feelings."


"That's an ORDER, Detective. And you deliver them yourself. All five dozen. Do I make myself clear?"

Elliot clenched his jaw but nodded.

"Good." Cragen started toward his office, intent on cleaning up the mess he just knew was waiting for him. He stopped before he entered, though, and turned back. "Oh, and Elliot? Call first. Let's not piss them off again by showing up unexpectedly. I don't want to have to put those roses on your grave, okay?"

The slamming of his office door was deafening.

The End

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