Memory

Part 4

I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to. I watched the darkness eat away at the edges of my vision, and wondered if there would be a bright light at the end of it all. Would angels sing? Would they even care? I was a monster, a creature of the night, condemned to Hell for feasting upon the blood of the living. Of course they wouldn't care. I wasn't meant to hear them sing. I was meant to burn.

And suddenly, I wanted to breathe, to taste the freshness of the spring rain in the air, to smell the lush, growing grass. I didn't want to choke on the smoke of a thousand fires, or know the acrid scent of sulfur. I didn't want to die and go to my punishment. Selfish as it was, I wanted to live, to keep living, to see the sky turn that magnificent indigo a few more times, even if it meant feeding on the life of others. They had the opportunity to go to Heaven, still. I did not.

My arms felt dead, and my lips felt cold. This time, I didn't want death, I didn't want the burning in my lungs to cease. I wanted them to keep burning, because that meant I needed air, and if I needed air, I couldn't possibly be dead. But I couldn't move, couldn't take off the noose. The darkness ate away the last of my vision, and I couldn't see.

What had I done?

I asked myself that several times, panicking more with each repetition. What had I done? What had I done? What had I done?! And then I stopped asking. I asked myself something else instead, something I'd never asked.

Where was Kro?

There was pressure around my waist. At first, I could barely feel it, and wondered faintly at what it was, until the noose loosened. I gasped for air, and my lungs continued to burn, this time from how full they were. I filled them as much as I could, emptied them, and then did it again, reveling in the feeling. I was still alive.

My eyes opened, and I could see. The feeling and strength came back to my limbs, and I felt the hard ground beneath me. And once again, I saw that face, the face of the barbarian I'd thought killed me. But no, he'd saved me, saved me from more than he could have ever imagined. He'd saved me from myself.

"Teyla?" he asked, looking uncharacteristically worried. He'd seen battle, seen death, faced many things, but this was the only time I'd ever seen him worried. And he was worried about me. "Teyla, can you hear me?"

I nodded, and tried to laugh, just happy that I didn't hear the screams of tortured souls, or smell burning hair and flesh, or feel the pain of a blade, or see the light of a thousand fires, or taste the bitter sulfur on my tongue. Instead, I ended up coughing, my throat suddenly feeling very sore. But I could not remember a time when I'd been happier to be alive, even if it was because of someone else's blood.

He hugged me close, and I relished the feeling, even as he whispered, "Please don't do that. Please don't do that ever again."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes, and I couldn't be sure whether they were from happiness, or if I was still distraught at what I'd almost done. Shaking my head, I whispered back, "I won't. I won't, I promise."