Author's Notes: "Conversion" Tag fic. Another for the Beya Re-watch 100 word Challenge. No, I don't intend on making this a weekly thing, but hey … if I get an idea and I can manage to keep it SHORT, why not? Another scene from the episode, but with a slight twist.

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The Devil's Dance - Metallica

Yeah, I feel you too
Feel those things you do
In your eyes I see a fire that burns to free the you
That's wanting through
Deep inside you know, seeds I plant will grow

One day you will see
And dare to come down to me
Yeah, c'mon, c'mon, now take the chance
That's right
Let's dance

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Whether it was because she caught the slight movement in the corner of her eye or if it was something else—something intuitive—Teyla would never know. It all happened too fast. The light on her scope centered on him. "Above us!"

John scaled the wall with inhuman speed and agility, and before they could catch him in their sights again, he was in their midst. He took out members of the security team as though they were nothing. Insects to be extinguished, she thought with a shudder as he was hit with multiple shots from the stunners with no effect whatsoever.

The remaining SO's dropped the useless stunners and reached for their weapons. They were meant to be the last resort, but if Col. Sheppard would not be taken, they had no choice. And he was leaving them—or rather, her—with exactly that. He dispatched the pair with no more effort or caring than he had the others. Teyla, alone, stood among four unconscious bodies.

John ran for the stairs, then turned in an instant at her shout. "Colonel!"

Her gun trained solidly on him, he stepped toward her with no fear and a savage heat in his cold, yellow eyes.

"Please. Do not make me do this," she pleaded as her heart thundered in her chest.

He didn't respond. His shoulders square and sure, he pressed on, closing the distance between them, treading with animal fluidity.

Teyla fired a single shot at his feet, hoping to warn him off. He didn't flinch. He stared into her and kept walking. Her finger hovered over the trigger, the slightest movement from her all it would take to end John Sheppard's life. Yet, she did not pull it. She couldn't.

In a flash, he was directly in front of her and her weapon clattered harmlessly across the room. Teyla waited for the blow that would send her sprawling into oblivion alongside the security team. Where had Ronon gone?

Clawed, mutated hands closed roughly around her wrists, rapidly twisting around her until he was behind her, imprisoning her against his body and holding her bound. She felt his hot breath on her neck, moving in and out in a deep, harsh rhythm.

"Teyla … " His voice was coarse and raspy.

Her eyes flitted up and behind her to catch the sight of him studying her with a bestial reverence. His head tilted and the tip of his nose nuzzled the skin of her neck, gliding along the silken curve until he reached the place where her neck, her hair, and her ear all converged in a sensitive storm. Her back arched away from him and he only pulled her tighter. Heat stirred within her under his penetrating gaze, her lungs heaving as he moved to grip both wrists in one hand, surrounding her waist with the other. She could have struggled. Fought. And perhaps she would have gotten loose.

But then, he would run and the next team to come across him would shoot to kill.

"John, please … Come with me," she whispered.

John's free hand ran firmly up her side, rumpling her clothing as he went, and surrounded her neck, a deep grunt in the back of his throat. A soft hiss crept into her ear, the brush of a lip contacting her lobe. With a sharp gasp, Teyla's eyelids slammed shut.

The familiar pulse of Ronon's blaster echoed across the room. John's body jerked behind her, followed by another immediate hit. He collapsed, his hold on her so tight he nearly took her with him as he fell.

"You okay?" Ronon asked.

Teyla stared down at John and, very gradually, she nodded. "Yes. I am fine."