Author's Note:

I don't own anything. All belongs to Prodigy Pictures/Showcase.

This is my first fanfiction ever. I am not a writer, just someone who has had a Dark!Lauren theme stuck in my head for the past several months, so any constructive criticism would be appreciated. Also please note that although this says Bo/Lauren, they are the endgame, not the journey. I plan on pairing both characters up with others throughout the story. There will be a large amount of Dark!Lauren/Morrigan, and expect erratic updates due to the fact that writing is difficult for me.


It is interesting what details one can pick up when they are immobilized. Having found out that Dyson escaped from supposedly six doses of anesthetics, they correctly pointed the finger back at his doctor. Well, more like gun barrel. Thankfully Lauren was far away enough from the guard that her thoracolumbar fascia was able to stop the bullet's momentum before it hit her spinal chord. The downside, of course, was that everything hurt, and the swelling in the region caused a temporary inability to do much more than breathe and gasp in pain every time her rib cage expanded. Well – she couldn't do that, since apparently an irate wolf on the loose was cause for them to stuff a wad of gauze in her mouth and fasten it with surgical tape. She could have told them, of course, that the man's sense of smell was far better than his hearing, but really who would listen to someone who betrayed her own kind in order to save what they perceived as a monster.

Despite her circumstances, she did have to grudgingly give the guard credit where it was due – he was able to think on his feet quite quickly. Due to his 'medical care', she was immobilized and dependent on medical help, unable to do anything other than stare at the chemical storage information on various bottles. At this point, she was able to determine that Taft needed to replace his stack of Nitroglycerin just by looking at the off-white color of the container. Of course it would be cheaper than replacing his stash of Daytroglycerin, which if it didn't exist, she would be happy to synthesize just for the express purposes of calming the man's psychosis.

Feeling a chuckle come on at her own morbid humor, Lauren's ears perked up as she heard two familiar voices echo in to her room, the mere thought of Bo finding her causes ears to obscure the tantalizing view of Taft's chemical collection.

"Ugh, this place is a freakin maze."
"This is the operating room."

"Sorry, I don't think Dr. Frankenbitch is here. Besides, I told you...It's time to go."

If Lauren didn't know Bo any better, she would have thought the sounds of Bo's grunting and screaming that came outside the door were from a feed session, however given the fact that Bo much preferred a four poster bed than to her operating table while feeding - She'd better if she preferred to keep her succu-bits in tact! – Lauren tensed in concern, which in turn caused her to cry out in pain in to her gag.

Well, at least she has learned to think before acting. When I get out of here, I swear I am creating my own special brand of pain that will live with that Valkyrie for as long as...oh shit they are bonding. Maybe just a month of pain then, two tops. I'll suggest that it is some sort of Fae STD. Although if Dyson hasn't contracted any, it's doubtful they even exist. I should do a study after Bo thinks to open the damn door - perhaps I can find the cure for HIV through the Fae.

"We need to get the team back together. Ok? Regroup. Somewhere safe."

"Safe? Ok...I'm going to get Dyson."

"And I'll find Kenzi"

"What about Lauren?"

Lauren is currently immobilized lying six meters to your left Bo. Open. The Damn. Door. And I swear to you I will let you have whatever talk you want. Or fuck for three days straight after I heal. At this point, I'm not too picky.

"I don't know where they took her..."

Six. Meters. Stop allowing the Valkyrie who just tried to kill you allow your very abundant hormones to take control of the logic that you somehow have seemed to acquire since we started dating...I swear Bo, if you leave me here like this now I will never let you talk me in to those sheets again!

As the volume of Bo's heels slowly diminished, Lauren's tears began to fall more freely.

I can't believe she just left me here. I thought she knew me enough to know I would never hurt her or those she cared about. I hoped...no. It doesn't matter. Dyson is safe. Bo is safe. Even the blonde coward is safe. I did my job, now I just have to wait for the guards to...oh no, did Bo restrain them in some way? I hope they are at the very least treatable, they only see the Fae as creatures who predate on them, and are in no way more viscous than Bo is. I need to get out of here.

Recognizing that her musings were becoming more jumbled, most likely due to the fact she was entering shock, Lauren focused on maintaining calm breaths, ignoring the pain that came with each. She no longer measured time in seconds, but in the volume of Nitrogen, Oxygen, and Carbon Dioxide inhaled and exhaled, figuring she could get to around 2,000 Liters before her need for medical care and water would cause her situation to become dire.

When she reached 100 Liters, Lauren knew that Bo was gone for good, causing a small crying jag. When she reached 500 Liters, she knew that her guard, and probably Taft, were gone. When she reached 800, she gave up any hope that Bo would be back to look for her. It wasn't until 1,386 Liters, or approximately 13.5 hours of doing nothing but breathing, where the opening of her door added temporary blindness to her paralysis. The Doctor was only able to make out a slim form hovering above her before bending down to remove her now sopping wet gag.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the succu-slut's favorite feeding toy. I must say doctor, I didn't expect to find -you- of all people looking like something out of one of my least favorite Mesmer's BDSM hospital movies, only gone horribly wrong. Even succu-cougar was able to escape to who knows where. But...her loss is my gain, you are, after all, the Dark's number one target."

Lauren tried to speak, only managing to gasp as her dry mouth struggled to produce any coherent sound other than a jumbled groan.

Resettle. Moisturize the tongue and throat. Just inhale 0.35 more Liters of air and hold it. Just one word...

Although it was easier said than done, Lauren steeled herself and forced herself to make eye contact with the woman mere inches above her, choosing to ignore the malevolent grin on the woman's face as she croaked out the one name she was fearful to use.

"Morrigan..."


I'm not so sure about the train of thought in italics, debating getting rid of that in future chapters. I am also having trouble with formatting. Again, constructive criticism is welcome, I would love to improve. Thank you for reading.