Author's Notes: Sequel to "Frozen in Place". A little advice—if you haven't read the previous story or are fuzzy on the details, you probably should read (or reread) it before going any further.

This is a story that was never supposed to exist. I wrote "Frozen in Place" with no intention of carrying it further, but the overwhelming and gracious responses I received got me to thinking, and lo and behold a fic was born. So this one is dedicated to those of you who requested - sorry - demanded a proper ending. For those of you waiting on the next chapter of In the Shadow of Your Heart, it is coming. I've been busy with life and working on a new fic with a few of the girls on the Stargatefriends profile, but it is coming. I hope you'll accept this fic as my way of saying thank you for your incredible patience.

And last but certainly not least, HUGE thanks to nacimynom for her hard work as beta for this story. I couldn't have asked for a better critic, editor, hand-holder, and friend, and I appreciate it more than I can say!

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Chapter 1

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xo

Teyla blinked, and it was all slow motion. The blackness behind her eyelids, then the fading blue lights behind, in front, all around her. Spinning. Spinning. Black. Then the swirling vortex again as she opened her eyes and her hand reached out for purchase. Too late, she realized, right before she hit the cold, unforgiving floor. Lying on the ground, listening to the crackling sound of fluid crowding out her lungs, she gasped for air, unable to move.

Dying. She was dying and back inside this body that was out of time.

As the dark ceiling stared forbiddingly down at her, dormant memories surfaced one by one. The first stood out among the rest; the last sight her dim eyes remembered. Him, in this very room, suppressing a dreadful sadness behind a repeated promise she never expected him to be able to keep.

"You're not in this alone, Teyla. I'll be there. No matter what."

She clung to his image as her sight rapidly became little more than a graying illusion.

"John," she said, her voice a distant echo of what was past, weak, finished, and hoping only for an answer.

Her dreams seemed so real now. They teased her, returning her faint call with a deep, masculine groan that could only be his and a shuffling sound that landed to her right. "I'm here, Teyla. I'm right here."

"Good … that is good … " she whispered and smiled, allowing herself to be carried away in wistful flights of fancy. The warmth of his hand seemed like fire atop her chilled fingers, a parting gift from her listless mind to her withered body. If she was to die, she would choose no other way. With him, returned to the peace and solace of his arms.

Jarring in their suddenness, voices began clamoring in the background, drowning out her quiet reverie. Her lingering fears of leaving this world coming to claim their final say.

"What the …" John's hand tightened suddenly around her before being ripped away. "Teyla!"

She tried to keep her eyes open, for all the good it did her. Shadows surrounded her, strangers whose voices brought no comfort. Shouting. Too loud. Hands everywhere. A beam of light drilled mercilessly into her black vision, robbing her of what little sight that remained.

She struggled to bring him back, flailing uselessly against the phantoms around her. "John, do not leave me … "

"Teyla, I'm not going anywhere. Who are you? What are you doing to her?!"

"Keep him back!"

The din around her started to bleed together, blending into meaningless chaos. She felt like she was sinking, too frail to fight back, her will nearly gone.

"She's fading faster than we anticipated."

"Not even stasis can completely halt the body's natural processes," the nebulous form directly over her barked in a commanding feminine tone. "We can't wait. We have to push it now."

"But it won't work! We need more time."

"Which we don't have! Just give it to me, get that gurney in here, and have the crash cart on standby."

There was a tug at the waistband of Teyla pajama bottoms and a searing pain cut deep into the flesh of her hip, knifing with pinpoint precision all the way down to the bone. Her spine and neck reared back in shock.

Teyla screamed.

Noises of a scuffle erupted. Something large hit the ground with a concussive slam, followed by another, and several more voices yelling. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy!"

"General, you must calm yourself!"

"You're hurting her!" John shouted.

The pain quickly branched outward from its relatively small beginning. As it swarmed over her, reaching and stretching throughout every nerve and fiber of her body, she shook uncontrollably. She nearly missed the sensation of being hoisted up and set down on a more cushioned surface.

"Teyla, stay with us," the woman coaxed, her misgivings obvious in her tone. A hand vigorously rubbed her shoulder, but Teyla could do nothing. "We need to get her upstairs and on a monitor, stat."

"Teyla!" John roared. His voice seemed distant and choppy, as though he was struggling, but she latched onto it. She was shutting down, her remaining senses growing muddy and dark, but the agony she was in helped to wrench the delusional shroud from her mind, enforcing a fleeting lucidity.

This was no dream. He was truly here. Just as he promised.

She tried to answer, his name barely coming off as more than a whimper across her lips. Knowing he couldn't hear her let alone heed her cry, she summoned the last of her reserves. "John …" she panted harshly. " … John!"

"Pharellys, let him go!" a new voice bellowed. She knew that one, but it fell away too quickly for her to identify.

There was more, arguing perhaps, but Teyla was swiftly passing beyond hearing, beyond any comprehension. Falling precipitously into a pit of blackness, her head crumpled to the side and didn't rise again.

There was a vague sense of being moved, sliding through a slipstream faster and faster, being chased by urgent, pounding footsteps that echoed off the walls.

Then nothing.

For a long time, nothing.

Silent.

Still.

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A brilliant white light emerged before her, hypnotizing in its allure. Calling out to her with the promise of peace and serenity, flashes of beautiful memories led her quietly along. The burst of a sun's rays split a cloud-ridden sky. Ripples billowed out over the glass surface of a pond. Wind caressed her face as she walked through tall grass with her son's clumsy, undersized fingers closed around hers, his deep almond eyes shining up at her. Sun-kissed and carefree, John smiled at her from behind shaded lenses.

"Clear!"

A shrill alarm shattered the void. Pain exploded within her, amassing in her chest with brutal force. There was a respite for a protracted instant and then it slammed into her again, mercilessly spurring her back to life.

Intermittent beeps chimed at her side. How much more? she wondered as the resonant thrum of her heart settled again into a dull rhythm. What little substance that remained of her was already dissolving, bleeding unchecked through every pore and lost to the great abyss. How much longer could she go on?

A blanket covered her and dutiful hands tucked her in with care. The customary antiseptic smell of the infirmary surrounded her, and still she couldn't move.

Slowly, but finally, it grew quiet. The general aura of people began to disperse, yet she could tell she was not alone. John was here, his presence at her bedside having become so common she would know it anywhere. He was so near it was almost as though she were wrapped up once more inside his embrace, her hand directly over his beating, pulsing, living heart. His imprint still felt fresh on her palm, not diminished in the slightest.

"Hang in there, Teyla. Just hang on," he said softly, an audible tremor lightly touching her ears. Fingers skimmed along her hand, almost reverently running back and forth. "You have to stay with me. I can't do it again. Not again."

The crushing weight behind his pleas conjured a vivid image of despair marring his handsome features. From within the confines of her static prison, Teyla's heart wept at her helplessness to comfort him.

All he wanted was for her to live. Ever since that dark day when Dr. Keller informed her that her condition was terminal, that was all he had ever wanted, all he had fought for. So hard, at times, he had failed to see the reality of what was happening in front of him. And Teyla had never borne well the thought of leaving him behind.

She knew the others would be alright in time. Even her son, she recalled with an excruciating pang of regret. He was still so young and, despite their mutual separation, had a father she trusted implicitly to help him recover from her premature loss. Kanaan would love him, care for him, and teach him all the things he would need to know. She had been raised in much the same way. Eventually, Torren would be fine. But John …

He would blame himself.

He would assume responsibility for her death and no amount of reason would persuade him otherwise. In his eyes, she would become another person he had failed. Another person he cared for that he'd let slip away. Her deepest fear was becoming one of the many ghosts he carried with him as he wondered in anguish why. Why had it been her instead of him? Why was it always someone else when he would have gladly traded himself to save another?

She couldn't abide the idea of him grieving for her in that way. It had been hard enough to accept that she was destined to be a reason he would have cause to grieve at all.

She had wanted to live so badly for herself and for them all. She'd tried and tried, and eventually even she had come to accept that she just couldn't. But no matter how battered and worn she had grown, Teyla found she still lacked the simple strength it took to look John in the eye—her friend, a man she knew would endure fire for her, and one that for so long had been the object of a quietly harbored affection—and bid him goodbye.

The monitors continued to periodically sound. John remained, and Teyla rested silently; easier, in spite of the burning that raged inside and her body's oppressive yearning for release. She had already made her choice. Once before, by agreeing to undergo stasis and now again, by choosing to keep fighting. She couldn't die now. If he asked it of her, Teyla knew she would do anything, face anything to spare him more pain.

For John, she would go on forever.