Author's Note: As promised, another chapter! :D I decided to italicize all of the bits where Michael and Teyla speak in her mind, as well as just her personal thoughts, because I think it reads weird if I don't. Personal thoughts are when there are only single quotation marks ( ' ), or none at all. Conversations in her mind ae in normal double quotes ( " )

This chapter is set about a week BEFORE the corresponding Ronon chapter, which you (hopefully) just read ;)

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Fallen Angel: Chapter Four

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Teyla fell to the ground, holding her head. By now she had given up trying to stop Michael from hurting her; she just tried to ride out the pain. She'd already known anyways that he would punish her for what she'd done.

"You killed him!" he raged at her, so different from the beginning when he'd had to force her to take another's life.

"Why are you angry?" she asked. "You "saved" me so that I can kill!"

"You killed the wrong man!" she felt like he was punching her and kicking her; like he was right there next to her, even though she knew it was all in her mind. "You've compromised yourself for the sake of a barmaid-"

"She was in trouble!"

"People are going to hear about this, Teyla; she'll never keep it a secret. And eventually they will start asking questions. If you are discovered…"

"I'm dead anyways," she said bitterly. "What does it matter?" Michael shouted in rage, but his attacks stopped. For a moment all was silent, and Teyla lay on the ground panting, her own breath unnaturally loud in her ears. She wondered if he would leave her alone.

"You've earned a rest," Michael said suddenly, changing his tune. "There is a village on the world you are on; I will make sure that they offer you shelter for a few days until we find out how much damage you've caused, and I decide how to punish you." Against her will, her body began to right itself, and she rose to her feet. "Start walking. Slowly."

Confused, but too tired to fight, Teyla did as she was told, hearing the sounds of the village in the distance. She wondered what Michael's plan was to get her accepted into the village; if he was going to take over her voice, or merely tell her what to say, or make her fight for it…"

"Don't run," he hissed, the second before she was attacked.

Three pale men in dark clothes leaped at her, looking wild. She reacted instantly, dropping into a low, defensive position. She let out a savage, not quite human growl to let them know what kind of woman they were dealing with, and was prepared for their next attack.

There was something different about these men; or maybe it was something about her. Either way, she was not doing as well against them as she had expected. And it should have been easy; after all, they were just bandits; and she had spent the last month killing people twice as strong as them. So why was she failing now? Her body felt slow and sluggish; and each movement made her feel like she was straining to move through thick tar.

In spite of her efforts, the men soon overpowered her, and had her on the ground. She grunted in pain and glared up at them defiantly as they leaned close, whispering vile threats to her. She wondered grimly what purpose all of this would serve if Michael wanted her to be accepted in the village.

"Scream, fool!" Michael's order came clear in her mind. To illustrate his command, the bones in her wrist suddenly snapped.

Teyla cried out in agony at the unexpected hurt, but Michaels intent soon became clear to her as unfamiliar voices and footsteps approached. Her leering attackers quickly took flight as several men appeared from the direction of the village. Three of them instantly gave chase to the retreating men, but two of them stayed with her, kneeling and examining her wounds carefully.

"Grandfather, look! It's a woman!"

"I can see that, Jonai." The first voice had belonged to a boy no more than twelve; he reminded her of Jinto. The other voice---his grandfather---belinged to a man who was very old and wrinkled, but had the gentlest, kindest face. Teyla's eyes dropped closed, but for a moment she remained conscious enough to hear what the man and the boy were saying.

"She's so pretty," Jonai said, as if he did not see her wounds, the blood and mud that covered her. "Do you think she's an angel?"

"I would not be surprised," his grandfather replied. "In fact, I would not be surprised if she was sent by the ancestors themselves!"

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What happened next was all a great blur to Teyla.

The men had not succeeded in catching her attackers; they had returned livid with rage at what those men had done to Teyla.

Jonai had talked incessantly as the men had tenderly carried Teyla to their village, and handed her over to the village healer. The woman had shut her doors and sealed Teyla inside.

Wood. Smoke. Herbs. All characteristic of a healer; their scents were familiar and comforting.

Another voice; another healer. A younger woman had joined the first, and they spoke quietly on what to do.

Teyla could feel herself being stripped to reveal her wounds. The woman tending her were talking about burning her clothes.

"No!" she cried deliriously. "Don't burn them! I need… I need… I need…" but she was unable to complete the sentence. Every thought was lost and jumbled in her mind, until only one clear image remained. That image was a face, and that face had a name; and that name became her lifeline as she continued to hurt.

"Ronon!" she sobbed, her voice sounding garbled in her own ears. But she hung on to his image, his face, his name, and called to him again and again.

'Ronon, Ronon, Ronon!' She needed to survive. Michael was doing this to her, and she needed to survive so she could kill him, and go back to that man, that face.

'Ronon, Ronon, Ronon!' She needed him, he was what kept her alive. Her thought of him, her memories, that was what had kept her living so far. That and the hope that maybe one day she could see him again, hear him tell her that he loved her just one more time; hear her own voice tell him the same.

"Rono-ah!!" The pain grew worse, almost unbearable; and Teyla thrashed feveredly against the arms that held her down, and gathered her breath for one final scream.

"RONON!" The scream turned into a shriek, the shriek turned into a whimper, and everything grew black.

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A/N: Thoughts?