Teyla dropped to one knee beside John again and lifted his arm over her shoulder. Rodney followed suit and at last they were able to heave John to wobbly feet. He gasped at the movement and closed his eyes tightly. Teyla knew that standing had to be extremely uncomfortable as his already low blood pressure failed to compensate quickly enough for the change in elevation, and she gave him a moment or two to adjust. John finally nodded, just barely, and they began to walk in awkward coordination, her one hand holding tightly onto John's arm over her shoulder, the other crossing Rodney's at John's waist and hooked into his belt.
Five minutes passed, then ten. The forest path grew darker and darker and the sound of alien birds twittering in the trees was replaced by the screechings and clickings of nocturnal creatures. By the time twenty minutes had struggled by under their feet, the sun had set completely and they walked in the dim twilight of a clear, star-filled night sky. Time passed too quickly, and every moment was a moment that Teyla worried about John falling deeper into the venom's influence. And yet, every moment felt infinitely long, as if they'd been walking in shadows for days rather than a mere fraction of an hour.
Teyla found herself nervously distracted by the unfamiliar night sounds, although they were the same as she'd slept peacefully among last night. She knew it was the tension and the worry clutching at her heart that added fear that would not otherwise have been there, but she was still unable to keep from glancing into the deep shadows of the bushes and trees they walked among. A sudden rustle of movement in crunchy leaves off to her right jolted her heart into her ears, and left it pounding until they were well past the place.
The laborious walk left her dripping with perspiration, her hair hanging limply plastered against her head, despite the night-cooled air. She was excruciatingly aware of every fast, shallow breath John took and the tension of listening for signs of respiratory distress knotted her shoulders into aching stiffness. Her heart ached with every hitch and painful gasp John let escape and she knew he made every weak step on sheer willpower alone. Such was John's obvious struggle to stay moving and stay conscious that even Rodney remained remarkably silent, his own face flushed and dripping.
Forty-five minutes or so after they began down the path towards the village, John began to moan softly with each gasping exhale and Teyla twisted in her hold on him to see his chin dipping closer and closer to his chest and his eyes rolling in unseeing randomness. She lurched to a halt, panting with exertion, "John?" Teyla gasped out in alarm.
Rodney gulped on his other side and worriedly watched as John jerked his head at hearing his name, then let out a sudden growling whimper and threw his head, arching his back. He sagged completely in their grasp and they all sank to their knees, Teyla and Rodney driven down by John's sudden deadweight.
John remained on his knees in stiff agony for a moment longer, then with a great sigh of defeat, he slumped forward. Rodney guided John's head and shoulder gently to the ground where John immediately curled his legs into himself and clutched at the back of his neck with both hands. The panting moans continued, each breath sounding like a soft curse of protest.
"Is he in shock?" McKay still had his hands on John's head, and he was looking at Teyla with something like desperation.
"Maybe, but I just...I think he's mostly in pain." Teyla answered breathlessly even as she was checking his pulse again and leaning her head close to his face to listen closely to his heart-breaking but unlabored breaths. John's pulse was pounding under her fingertips, and she rested her hand briefly on his chest to feel the hammering even through his heaving ribcage.
"Pain? That's just pain? He doesn't get taken out like this with just pain! This is Sheppard we're talking about!"
"No Rodney, there's more than pain. The venom is affecting his pulmonary system and possibly his nervous system as well. We are lucky it has not yet affected his breathing." Teyla scooted herself closer to John's head and began to tug at the jacket still tied around his waist, wadding it up into a ball to press gently under his head as she continued speaking.
"Rodney, you need to run the rest of the way to the village and bring back help to carry John the rest of the way. Go to Iguel, he is the village leader of men. Ask him for a travois and strong backs, then ask him – politely Rodney – to request the Shaman's hospitality once John reaches the village. They will understand, then, that you need medical help."
Rodney froze at her instructions, looking suddenly terrified. "I'm not really very good with the… people thing, maybe you should – ."
"Rodney!" Teyla interrupted brusquely, "I wish to stay and watch after John, I have taken the most first aid training and he may need resuscitation at any moment. The village is very near. Just Go!"
"Ok, ok." Rodney heaved himself to his feet and fumbled with the P-90, finally finding and flipping on the flashlight to illuminate the hard dirt path before him. Teyla was relieved to see he left the weapon's safeties on, however. She did not wish the jittery scientist to shoot any unwary villagers who may make the mistake of startling him. He took a determined step down the road, then froze, turning for one last glance back with a very worried look, "Is he going to be OK?"
Teyla understood his hesitation, her own desire to stay with John as much born out of her fear for his life as from her qualifications. She rested her hand on John's shoulder, this time more for her own reassurance than for his. "Just go…" she said earnestly, trying to pour as much hope as she could into the command. Rodney nodded, then lumbered away, the bobbing pinpoint of light from his flashlight disappearing from view as he followed the path around a gentle bend.
Teyla returned her full attention to John, checking his pulse again and finding that it had returned to fast and light. He still lay on his side, his face pressed into the jacket and one hand still wrapped around the back of his neck. She tapped his cheek lightly and nudged his shoulder, "John, are you awake? You need to tell me what you feel like right now so I can help." She wasn't actually sure he would be able to answer, she rather assumed he'd passed out when he collapsed.
"Feel like crap," he mumbled, his eyes still closed and his face still buried in the jacket.
A small smile found her face, and she was somewhat relieved. A surly and evasive John Sheppard was a fighting John Sheppard. "You look like crap,"she chided him back, finding the slang on her usually formal lips humorous even to herself. "I was able to determine that much myself, but I could use some specific information." She'd learned long ago that he was more likely to skip the protests if he wasn't smothered with sympathy. A little indifference went a long with John.
He groaned and rolled slightly to turn his face towards her. His eyes remained shut, but he answered through gritted teeth, "Still feel really lightheaded, nauseous. Good…thing…I didn't eat…a big lunch…" He paused and swallowed hard a few times, then went on, "Worst is my back. Really hurts. The bite really hurts." His voice broke, almost as if admitting the pain increased its power over him. He panted a few breaths and Teyla rubbed his arm in sympathy. At last he growled through a deep shuddering breath and forced a tight smile onto his lips, "To be specific…"
"Rodney went for the villagers. Help will be here soon." Teyla found she had nothing more to offer John than the reassurance of a plan, any plan. Despite her continued belief that the villagers might be able to help in some way, in the desperate cold darkness of an alien night, she felt doubt grow within her chest. Perhaps Ronon had been right, they should have tried harder to get John closer to home. Perhaps they shouldn't have tried to move him at all. She had known his exertions might help spread the poison, what if that ultimately was more dangerous than waiting longer for help…
Almost as if John were reading her thoughts, he opened his eyes a slit to look at her face. "It was the right call…" he whispered, the reassurance short-lived when he suddenly gasped, rubbing at his chest with the hand that wasn't still clutched over his shoulder.
Teyla leaped for his neck and found his pulse hammering again. A long moment of terrified watching passed until the pulse soothed once more. John sighed and relaxed just slightly, burying his face again and this time, ignored or was unaware of Teyla's attempts to get him to respond.
Sagging onto one hip, Teyla folded her legs around herself and sat worriedly patting John's arm between frequent, nervous presses against his neck. The night seemed to press in around her as she could do nothing but settle in to wait. Almost as if a volume knob was suddenly turned up, she became aware of the shrieking and clicking nocturnal noises, interrupted occasionally by the rustle of wind in the leafy trees above her and the more terrifying rustle of dry leaves on the ground being disturbed by the roaming creatures of the forest floor.
Her own heart began to speed as a large animal crunched, unseen, through the thick underbrush East of their path and she involuntarily rested one hand on the reassuring coldness of her own P-90. She could even track the animal's path as it wandered in fits and starts, standing still for long moments, then suddenly scuffing and trampling the ground. Chewing her lips, Teyla forced down the images of horrific creatures invading her mind's eye, all bearing Earth names that meant nothing to her but formless terror. She really needed to find out what a werewolf actually was, she decided nervously. She was certain no story could frighten her as much as her own active imagination.
In another of a series of trampling scuffles, the creature abruptly turned towards the path, stamping nearer her position with every noisy lurch.
In a sudden dash, the animal bolted onto the path only yards from John's prone position, and Teyla leaped to her feet, her weapon raised high and her breath coming in ragged gasps. The creature froze, its ears twitching frantically as it also finally noticed Teyla.
Trying to control her embarrassment, Teyla at last recognized the animal as one of the gentle herbivores that the villagers often hunted for food and skins. Rodney had called it a deer, John had made a joke about someone named…Bambi? that neither Ronon nor she understood. Whatever it was called on Earth or among the Dolsans, it was no threat to her and Teyla lowered her weapon immediately, dropping back to John's side, breathing deeply in relief. She continued to watch the deer curiously to see what it would do.
It remained frozen for a moment longer, then bobbed its head up and down, leaping into a sudden fit of lurches and bucking. It ran a few more steps closer, then stumbled, dropping onto the knees of its forelegs and panting heavily, rolling its eyes. Teyla tilted her chin, puzzled. The creature thrashed its head again, leaped to its feet and bolted off the path in a dead run. She heard it crashing away from them and blundering about for nearly a minute longer, then there was a muffled scuffle. After that, utter stillness fell upon the dark forest.
For some reason, the deer's silence felt ominous, and Teyla hastily reached for John's pulse again, only slightly reassured as the flutter under her fingertips remained worryingly fast. She looked at her watch. Rodney had been gone twenty minutes, and realistically wouldn't return for another fifteen, even if the villagers were quick in organizing themselves.
The knot of doubt returned. What if the villagers refused to help and they had risked moving John for nothing? What if the villagers were unable to do anything but provide John a warm place to die? Furiously she shoved that morbid thought aside, but her faith in her course of action and in herself continued to waver. With the part of her mind that could remain detachedly rational, she understood that her current diffidence was partly a symptom of the ongoing struggle to understand how she fit in on the new Atlantis. Teyla couldn't see herself in her same old role as Carter's advisor and was unsure that the strictly military Colonel would ever hand over command of Atlantis to her as Elizabeth had done on occasion. In her most insecure moments, Teyla wondered if, without Elizabeth, she would ever be again in a position of true leadership; if she would be able to prove herself to Colonel Carter sufficiently to earn that responsibility again.
In those moments, she selfishly missed Elizabeth the most keenly. In those moments, she missed her people and Athos most keenly.
John groaned softly, drawing Teyla's attention back to him. He thrashed his head slightly and stiffened against the pain she could see him repressing with furious concentration. His whole body seemed to vibrate with his efforts at control and she murmured reassuring nonsense until he calmed again, curling more tightly into a ball and burying his face more deeply into the wadded up jacket.She was truly awed by his endurance and it suddenly occurred to her that anyone else suffering the pain that John obviously felt would probably be screaming and fighting in desperation.
Or…bucking and running in panic like a stricken deer?!
Fierce, unwelcome tears squeezed out between her tightly closed eyes. If the thing that stung John habitually preyed upon animals as large as the deer, animals that averaged at least twice John's weight, then its venom must be formidable indeed. In desperation of her own, she clutched at John's limp hand and held it in her lap, watching him with something almost like apology, lost in doubt and worry. When he sighed and opened his eyes a few minutes later and squinted at her with curious confusion, she hastily blinked back the dampness from her eyes and forced the fear off of her face.
"What?" he rasped, sounding surprisingly self-conscious, as if he were concerned he'd suddenly sprouted a second head - or that his hair had gone flat. "You're looking at me funny."
"Perhaps that is because you are funny looking," she teased back softly to reassure him, somehow managing to keep her voice steady. She may be scared to death and riddled with doubt, but she would be damned before she'd worry John with that fact.
"Always with the jokes..." he sighed and closed his eyes again.
"How is the pain, John?" Teyla asked quickly, deciding to take advantage of his attention.
He chewed his lips for a long moment, as if deciding how or if to answer. "It's bad," he said. And that was all he said.
The next ten minutes passed in slow agony, Teyla felt she'd never endured such horror, such doubt, such fear. At least when the Wraith attacked, there was someone to blame, some anger to use, some revenge to seek. This was just mindless waiting.
John began to shudder, small tremors at first, then his shoulders shook and he jerked his head off the ground in puzzled discomfort. Teyla hastily checked his pulse for the thousandth time and bent to watch him watching his own hands shake. "John, are you cold?" she asked, flipping open the pocket in her vest that held a thermal blanket even before he answered.
"Not…really…" he breathed, grunting with another full body shudder.
Teyla paused, puzzled herself by the answer when a flicker of light out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She jerked her gaze towards the path and sudden relief flooded her chest as she finally saw a glow of warm firelight brightening the canopy of the forest just beyond the nearby bend. A genuine smile found her face and she turned to John, holding his hand again so he would be sure to pay attention.
"The villagers are here, John. They will take you to the Shaman."
John just nodded, then dropped his head to the ground when another tremor shook him.
Teyla stood up and rubbed her palms on her thighs. The glow brightened the path and she could suddenly see a large group of men carrying torches high over their heads. They were marching quickly, and some were waving the torches back and forth as if to ward off attack from above. Many were also carrying their hunting spears, gripped tightly in ready hands.
"Here!" she called out, unable to restrain herself from urging them on even faster. "We're here, please hurry."
Teyla finally recognized Iguel at the head of the pack and she looked for Rodney, finally spotting him in the middle of the group, obscured by the village hunters around him. She waved and was grinning in relief as Iguel gathered his men around them and finally stood before her.
"Colonel Sheppard, my friend, your friend through me, is in need. I am grateful for your assistance, Iguel." Teyla spoke quickly, forcing herself through the village courtesies, even as she was desperately eager to get John to the Shaman.
Iguel just looked squarely at her, his eyes sad with a kind of stern compassion. "Colonel Sheppard, my friend through you, is lost. He belongs to the Androctonus from which only a few have ever returned to themselves. I grieve with you."
Teyla frowned, confused by the response. "I don't understand, Iguel. John is right here, there's still time to help him."
Instead of replying, Iguel simply snatched for her arms. She struggled briefly then found more strong hands holding her firmly, keeping her arms pinned and away from her weapons. Once Teyla was securely held, Iguel nodded at four more of his men who immediately dropped beside John, gently but firmly rolling him onto his back and pinning his arms and legs into the ground and holding him tightly down as if he had just been about to fight them all.
"John!" Teyla exclaimed as he raised his head to look blearily around at his antagonists in painful confusion. She thrashed her elbows in rage and glared at Iguel. "What is the meaning of this?! We are old friends, Iguel. This man is my friend and therefore yours by custom. We asked for your help." She knew her voice was pleading in her confused fury, but Iguel's men merely held on tightly at her struggles.
"He belongs to the Androctonus," he repeated. "The Shaman will explain. Bring the pole!" Iguel shouted the last to the remaining men and left Teyla in the hands of the others. She was pulled away from John, powerless to do anything but watch as the men began next to bind his legs and arms together with wide leather thongs. He struggled weakly at the treatment, but was easily overpowered.
A soft, terrified voice in her ear jerked her head to the side to find Rodney standing close by, having finally been allowed to approach her. With a jolt she realized that he was also bound, his hands tied tightly together in front of him. He met her eyes with apologetic fear.
"I told you I'm no good with people," he said.