Disclaimer: I don't own "Stargate: Atlantis." I am in no way trying to make a profit off this story, I am merely writing it and posting for my and other people's enjoyment.

Synopsis: There are two people inside me, and I fear that the other is going to win and destroy us all. AU, RononTeyla

Rating: T

Warnings: Violence

Pairings: Ronon/Teyla

Spoilers: Rising; The Gift; The Siege pt. 3; Runner; Duet; Trinity; & Sateda

Title: Inner Battles

Author: fyd818

Part 1/17

Dedication: To SpaceMonkey0941: (mega!)talented writer, fellow shipper, and my awesome friend. THANK YOU!!! -hugs-

Author's notes: I've had this idea rattling around in my head for a while and am just now getting around to writing it. A forum I frequently visit had a discussion on whether or not Ronon knew about Teyla's Wraith DNA, and that was what actually inspired me to write this thing down instead of letting it sit and stew in my head forever. This is definitely AU, and deals with the ramifications of Ronon finding out in the worst way possible about Teyla's Wraith DNA. I hope you enjoy this fic!

Inner Battles

fyd818

-Prologue-

I could hear them talking, in my mind. They were whispering to me, trying to break down the mental barriers I'd so carefully raised and turn me towards them.

Eventually I lost track of time, not knowing how long it had been since they'd taken me—it could have been two hours or two weeks. To keep them out of my mind, I sang until my voice was gone. Then I hummed. And, when my voice completely gave way, I would think of anything and everything except what they wanted most: Atlantis, my team, my family.

Sometimes I would think rescue came, only to have those familiar faces dissolve into the terrifying snarls of my Wraith captors. By now I wasn't sure if I knew what was real and what wasn't—after all, I'd already been rescued three times and killed twice, so who knew what was actually happening to me right now?

I knew that the ones that the Wraith sought were out there looking for me; I also knew that they would find me. I hadn't lost hope yet, no matter how many hallucinations and dreams I'd had, but the only thing I was concerned about was whether or not I'd know if it was real when (not if) they came for me.

My captors were pressing against the barriers around my mind again, trying to make me break so they could get into my mind and discover all they wished to know about Atlantis and everyone I loved. I fought back the same way I had been doing for the eternity I'd been here: I closed my eyes, placed my hands over my ears, and began to hum. It was an aimless tune that dear Charin had sung to me when I was a little girl. That helped me to redirect my thoughts to the past, and away from everything and everyone I was currently missing.

Suddenly the assault against my mind stopped, without preamble or warning. I dared to open my eyes and uncover my ears, wondering if I had somehow figured out how to block them from my mind, or if they had stopped the assault to lure me into a sense of false security so that they could attack me again and catch me off-guard.

Or perhaps it was neither. . .

At first I honestly believed I was hallucinating again, because the very scene from a hundred of my dreams, both waking and sleeping, was playing out before me. He was standing there by the door to my prison, teeth bared in a very familiar expression of hate and rage, weapon poised to blast the controls that opened and closed it.

In the time it took me to blink, he had moved from the doorway and was now kneeling beside me. His green eyes had lost the angry luster that had made them glitter before as they studied me quietly, as if making sure I was as real as I wondered if he was. However, the slightest spark still lurked beyond the tender concern that masked his face as well as his eyes.

My painfully dry lips parted, and all I could force past my abused throat (from my singing/humming and screaming alike) was a croaked: "Real?"

He knew what I was asking; his expression told it all. I had only seen the expression that transformed his face once before, that look of all-consuming pain that wrenched at my heart.

He had feared for me then, too. It was an expression that I had fervently prayed he'd never wear again; yet here he was. . . Or was he? I wasn't sure anymore what was real and what wasn't.

He grabbed my unsteady hands and lifted them to his face, giving me the chance to feel the warmth of his grasp, assuring me that he was real, there, and had come to rescue me.

Just like I had known he would.

"Real," he whispered in affirmation, his voice unusually rough. For a moment I thought he was going to drag me to him and kiss me absolutely senseless, but almost as soon as that emotional expression crossed his face it was gone again. In its place was the businesslike expression that I was familiar with—I had worn the same look too many times in my own life, when business had to come before relief and all other emotions.

He didn't bother to ask me if I could walk—he could probably tell just by looking at me that I couldn't. Like the chivalrous hero in the book Doctor Weir had given me to read, he easily lifted me into his arms and headed towards the door, that look of hate and rage slowly creeping back onto his face, and into his eyes.

Our escape was a complete blur in my mind: it was a jumble of Wraith screams, human battle cries, and gunfire traded back and forth from both sides of the fight. It was not until my rescuer literally dropped to his knees with me in the back of the ship waiting to take me—us—home that it truly hit me.

Ronon Dex had come for me, like I knew and he had promised.

But still I knew that the nightmare I'd somehow just lived through was only just beginning.

-To Be Continued-