The village men finished binding John's hands and ankles together, then slipped a sturdy pole through the loops of his arms and legs. He groaned a painful, disgusted moan when they next hoisted him off the ground briefly, swinging by the bindings, to slip a wide leather strap under his hips, then lowered him again to tie the strap to the pole as well. John cried out when his shoulders touched the ground first, resting on the inflamed skin. He struggled madly with the pain for a long moment, and there was a brief, violent scuffle as the men wrestled with him, pinning him again into the ground. John's furious grunts of anger melted into whimpers of frustration, then quieted down completely into soft moans. The men hastily finished tying the last strap and laid the pole down along John's firmly restrained body.

Teyla was so enraged she could only stand seething as John was subdued, the hands on her own arms digging painful bruises into her flesh as she continued to pull and lean towards him. When she found her voice again, she was shocked at the betrayal she heard dripping in every word. "Why are you doing this? Iguel! John has done nothing to you, can't you see he's in terrible pain! He needs help and you bring bindings?"

Iguel ignored her pleading outburst, but consented to answer part of her question, even as he was kneeling by John's head and uncorking a leather flask that hung from a strap around his neck. "Those who are bitten by the Androctonus are consumed by the pain, most become violent before it takes them completely. That is why we bind him."

"John Sheppard is no danger to you, even in pain. He is strong, Iguel, and our people are coming soon to take him to our home. But time is critical. If you have seen the effects of this venom before, can you not do more for him than bindings!"

"The Shaman may offer him the Dream Serum if he is as strong as you believe. That is not for me to decide." Iguel spoke his reply from a squat at John's head. The village leader rested his hand briefly on John's again-shuddering shoulder, then shook his head solemnly at the man holding John's elbow into the ground. "He's already begun the tremors. Help me, Inez."

"What exactly are you doing?" blurted out Rodney as the man called Inez left John's arm to prop up his head and shoulders slightly. John winced and set his teeth, but this time held himself in check, resisting the impulse to fight.

"The tea sometimes helps with the pain," Iguel answered. He brought the leather flask to John's lips as Inez firmly tilted his chin into position. John looked at the flask warily through narrowed eyes and clamped his mouth shut. Iguel grabbed for John's jaw and pried into the flesh until his teeth reluctantly unlocked and Iguel forced the narrow spout between unwilling lips. "Some lose the ability to swallow, the tea can also help soothe the Androctonus' effect on the throat."

John's eyes widened as Iguel tipped up the flask and began to pour its contents, then he made a horrible grimace and gagged as the strong, bitter-tasting drink filled his mouth. Iguel did not relent and grabbed his jaw again, continuing to pour. John coughed, then was forced to choke down the liquid in desperate gulps. When he finally coughed again and the tea overflowed over John's chin and spilled onto his cheeks, Iguel removed the flask and swiped the drips off with a careless hand. John continued to gasp and splutter as Iguel re-corked the leather bottle, determinedly ignoring his captive's discomfort and Teyla and Rodney's protests.

When Iguel stood again and, with a wave, signaled the men to prepare for the march back to the village, his face seemed worried to Teyla; but worried for what she couldn't tell. Holding her temper in check, and shooting Rodney a look to quiet his protests, she spoke calmly but urgently to Iguel as he passed by on his way to the front of the line, pouring every ounce of persuasion she possessed into her words. "Iguel, you must listen. We are no threat to you. John is no threat to you. I see you are trying to help, but there is no need to use force or restraints. We will do what you think is best for John, but if you are concerned about our trustworthiness I must tell you this: what trust I do have in our longacquaintance will be lost if my friend continues to be treated in this way."

Iguel hesitated, looking down the path towards his home and Teyla saw a deep sadness flicker over the face of her old trading partner. "I lost my father to the Androctonus," Iguel said softly, still refusing to meet her gaze directly. "I thought as you do, I thought he was strong, too. When the seizures began, I couldn't bear to see him bound...so I cut him free."

Iguel abruptly turned towards Teyla and she gasped at the hardness that had replaced the instant of grief. Iguel's eyes flashed in the torchlight, and the flickers of shadows playing over his face brought a shiver of dread to Teyla's spine. "My father killed a man and wounded three others before the Androctonus finally claimed his life. That is why I bind your friend and treat him roughly. He is no longer himself. That is why I bind you. So you will not repeat my mistake."

At Iguel's words, a hunter unclipped Teyla's P-90 from her chest, tossing it clumsily into the forest, and began wrapping her hands tightly together with more leather. The group around John lined up to heave him off the ground by the pole. The procession passed by Teyla and Rodney in a solemn march, John swinging slightly from the pole and struggling to hold his head up as he was carried. Teyla called his name, her voice thick with encouraging worry, and his eyes met hers briefly before he was hauled on by. She was surprised to see no anger left in his expression. Only a cold, blank mask of carefully cultivated indifference remained, and he looked away with a resigned sigh even before he was out of sight. Teyla sucked in a startled breath.

"What? What's wrong? Other than the obvious we're being held captive while Sheppard dies a painful death at the hands of psychotic villagers thing?" Rodney was shoved into place beside Teyla and they were both hustled along behind John's escort, their own escorts waving torches over their heads. "Teyla?" Rodney prompted, not letting his concern go.

Teyla licked her lips. "It's John..."

"What? Is he sicker? Did that tea concoction poison him?!"

"No, he's just... He just looked...afraid."

"Oh, is that all. If I were swinging from a pole while fighting off scorpion venom, I'd be a little afraid too." Rodney rubbed his hands together and craned his neck to try to get a closer look at John. "I'm a little afraid for him, actually."

Teyla only nodded, but it wasn't the fear that Rodney was speaking of that she'd seen in John's eyes. It wasn't fear for his own life, it was something else: It was the same distancing she'd felt from him ever since they'd returned the crystal entities to their home and she wondered what the connection possibly could be. What fears were pulling him away from her, from all of his friends, when she thought he'd be turning to them the most?

Teyla looked at her watch in frustration. Ronon had been running for an hour and a half. It would take him at least another half hour to get to the Stargate, then at least another half hour for Atlantis to muster a rescue team and clear the 'gate. She had no idea how long it might take to burn or cut through the massive tangle of tree branches so that a jumper could get through, it might take longer than 30 minutes. Help would not come from Atlantis for at an hour at best. And in the meantime, John was in the hands of people who believed him dangerous and inhuman. A deep knot of shame threatened to overwhelm her. She had insisted on bringing John to the village. She had believed they would help, that they might even have a local cure. She felt betrayed, and more uncertain than she had ever felt. She had been wrong.

Or had she?

Teyla shook her head, forcing herself to put aside what she could feel was becoming almost paralyzing insecurity. John needed her to think clearly, to figure out what to do. She couldn't afford timidity, she had to think it through: These people had been trading partners, friends - albeit casual friends - for years. She had never seen them behave this way and she felt she needed to understand.

"Rodney, what happened when you went to the village and asked for help?"

"What? Oh. Well, I walked into town - ran. I mean, I ran into town and asked some guy to take me to Iguel like you said. Iguel was all friendly and helpful and started to knock on a few doors once I asked for help and for the Shaman's hospitality. You told me to say that." Rodney paused, looking to Teyla for confirmation and she nodded hastily in a 'get on with it' sort of way.

Rodney went on with it, "Anyway, Iguel and I went to the Shaman's hut together just before we were about ready to come get you. Iguel hadn't asked many questions, he just seemed eager to help, but the Shaman gave me this look..." Rodney screwed up his eyes comically and pointed two fingers at his own eyes for emphasis. "The first thing he asked was about this Androctonus creature and was Sheppard insane yet, or something obtuse like that. I told them he'd been stung by a scorpion and that the venom was causing great pain and that he couldn't walk any further."

He sighed and shrugged in confusion, "Everything got strange then. Iguel got all uppity and the Shaman got all intense. He gave Iguel that flask and a handful of those bindings. I guess I might have gotten a bit upset myself, what with all the talk about tying Sheppard up, and so they tied ME up. The rest you know!" Rodney gave a weary two-handed wave at John bobbing along in front of them.

Teyla was thoughtful for a long moment, "Did the Shaman say anything about a cure or treatment? Iguel mentioned...Dream Serum."

"Not really, although he kept telling Iguel to hurry. You think they're holding something back?"

"No. In fact, they seem quite familiar with the venom's symptoms. I think they must treat anyone who is stung in this manner."

"That's small comfort. If they can do this to their own people..." he trailed off and bent his neck again for another check on John.

"That's just it. I think they DO try to help their own people. Maybe, in their own way, they are helping. They did give John the tea, Iguel said it helped the pain."

Suddenly curious, they both shifted on the path for a good look at John. He hung limply from the restraints, and his head was sagging backwards towards the ground. He jerked it up once or twice as they watched, as if he were startling awake from dozing, then he would relax again. Teyla sighed, unable to tell much about John's condition from her position - but she thought he might look just a little bit less tense than before.

"I don't know," Rodney said at last, bitterness seeping into his tone. "Tea and maracas and leather ropes don't seem very much like a 'cure' in the medicinal sense. More like superstition and exorcism."

"But didn't you say yourself that most myths have some basis in fact? What if their traditional medicines also have some basis in experience. My own people make teas and ointments from the plants we cultivate. Dr. Keller has been quite interested in studying them, and the Dolsan tea."

Rodney shrugged, unconvinced, and Teyla didn't press. She was feeling just a tiny glimmer of hope, the initial shock of the startling actions of the villagers fading into guarded perspective. Perhaps they were helping, she thought to herself again. But she kept the thought private, knowing Rodney would disagree.

It took what seemed like a only short time to finally reach the village and Teyla watched Iguel closely as he moved ahead of their group to jog quickly up to the Shaman's door. The village leader knocked on the frame of the large domed hut, then disappeared inside briefly. When he stepped out again, he waved the men holding John towards him and held the thick leather drape that covered the entrance to one side. He then dropped it closed once they passed through.

Teyla and Rodney headed immediately for the hut themselves when their escorts grabbed for their elbows and Iguel stepped into their path at the door, preventing them from entering. "The Shaman requires privacy to judge the afflicted," Iguel intoned respectfully.

"Oh Great!" Rodney suddenly and surprisingly lost his temper. He squared up, face to enraged face, in front of Iguel who narrowed his eyes and stood his ground despite Rodney's furious advance, "That's just pretty darn convenient for you isn't it? We can't get in so we can't stop you from whatever torture you've all got cooked up for Sheppard next. And then, when he's conveniently dead you can pat us on the back and say 'too bad, the bug gods must have needed another whipping boy in the neanderthal afterlife!'"

"Rodney!"

He spun to her in frustration. "Teyla, these people are giving us the runaround. We should never have asked for their help. We should just take Sheppard and go. Ronon will find us!"

Teyla winced at the rebuke, but she saw the desperate worry in his eyes and was instantly sympathetic. He was badly frustrated and badly frightened, and this last obstacle had thrown him over the edge of panic. Angry again herself, she took a deliberate step between the men, the gesture clearly meant to hold Rodney in check without undercutting his sentiment. She drew herself up to her fullest height, and glared at Iguel with her sternest expression.

"Your friend must stay..." Iguel said quickly and hesitantly, his eyes darting warily between the strangers who were suddenly directing pure fury at him.

"We will stay with John," Teyla said matter-of-factly. "You will allow us to enter. Now." Her tied hands drifted to her hip where her 9mil still sat comfortably holstered, within reach despite the bindings. Iguel's eyes widened, recognizing the gun as a weapon and the determination in Teyla's gesture.

"Your friend means enough to you to fight for?" he asked licking his lips and glancing at the men who stood close by but no longer heldTeyla's elbow. He was clearly calculating how quickly she might be able to draw and if his men would be able to stop her.

"He does," Teyla answered firmly. Her fingers touched the gun's butt.

"He is...family?" Iguel asked after a long hesitation. There was an odd quality to his voice.

Teyla tilted her head, "Yes. He is family. We are his family," she answered truthfully. John had admitted as much to her once, and Athosian custom was generous in its definition of the term.

Iguel relaxed just slightly and nodded jerkily, "Family are permitted join the stricken in vigil. You can enter when the Shaman dismisses the escort."

Teyla slowly nodded back and withdrew her hand from the holster, accepting the compromise. Iguel had no wish to fight her and she understood that he had found a face-saving way to allow their request. She was certain he was breaking the letter of the local customs, but he was trying. Teyla shot a quick look at Rodney's mutinous face, but he also accepted the agreement at her silent command. A long uncomfortable minute or two passed and Teyla stood exactly where she was, a step away and facing Iguel, Rodney planted equally firmly just behind her right shoulder. Iguel fidgeted at the pair's cool determination, his eyes flicking now and again to Teyla's 9mil.

When at last the leather drape was pulled open again, Teyla watched Iguel smother a relieved sigh and hastily step out of the way as the four men who'd carried John quietly slipped out and back into the village towards their own homes. Still holding the drape, Iguel swung his arm and gestured them inside. Teyla made no move except to hold out her hands, flexing her wrists against the bindings subtly. Iguel twitched and his eyes grew hard again with a deep, personal anger. But he reluctantly drew his knife from a beautifully decorated leather scabbard and sliced through her bonds, doing the same for Rodney a moment later. Only then did Teyla pass by, murmuring her thanks.

Rodney whispered into her ear as they were bending together to duck through the door's low frame, "So we're family now, eh?"

Teyla's lips twitched at the sarcasm in his tone, pleased that he had regained his composure enough to joke. "Of course," she whispered back deadpan, then added, "It seemed the prudent answer to the question."

"Just as long as I don't have to spend holidays with the man, too..."

The inside of the Shaman's hut was richly decorated with skins of the animal she'd seen in the forest and roughly woven tapestries. A stone fire pit was positioned in the exact center of the large circular room, and was glowing brightly, throwing off waves of heat. The room was warm and stuffy, thick with a refreshing but pungent scent. Teyla took one look around and quickly spotted John who had been laid on a blanket-covered platform on the far side of the fire. The Shaman sat on a stool by John's head, holding a bowl and seeming to be meditating over it. He was a rugged, middle-aged man in his prime, dressed in the same style of clothing as the hunters of the village with the exception of an elaborate beaded necklace and a spike of some polished bone in the lobe of one ear. Teyla suddenly remembered John and Rodney's amusement that the village medicine man wasn't an old, wizened and withered character, shuffling around the camp with a cane and missing teeth. Their image of what a Shaman should look like greatly amused Teyla in turn: A medicine man or woman was spiritual leader of the community, and worked long hours treating and counseling the people of their village. That was no job for a weakened elder?! In the Pegasus Galaxy, any fortunate elders who reached the age of failing strength was treated with great respect and comfortable rest.

Teyla hesitated a moment, waiting for some sign or signal from the Shaman, but he neither moved nor acknowledged them in any way so she simply began towards them.

"Smells like an inhaler in here," Rodney muttered. Teyla took another deep breath and realized that, in fact, the scent was stimulating her lungs and nostrils with a pleasant tingling sensation. The small glimmer of hope grew just a bit; if the Shaman was using local medicine to soothe John's symptoms, then maybe they had found the help they needed until Atlantis came for them after all. Feeling more optimistic, she reached John's side.

The optimism died nearly as quickly as it had bloomed upon her first good look at her friend.

John had been stripped to the waist and lay on his back on the platform. His hands and ankles were tightly tied to brass rings attached to the platform's sides, another strap was stretched across his hips, and she saw his holster and 9mil laying in a careless pile a few feet away. Another strap across his forehead held his head down. Teyla choked back fury and slipped her hand into one of his, noticing the red, raw skin under the straps from his bindings and hanging from the pole. His eyes were tightly closed and she could see the lines of tension in the creases, the vibration of pain still reverberating along the long lines of his body. He shuddered slightly as she stood staring at him, but the tremors were not from any chill of air against his bare skin.

Teyla shot a glance at the silent Shaman, narrowing her eyes at his calculating return gaze. "We thank you for allowing us to sit vigil with our friend," she managed to say with enough courtesy to bring a small nod from the medicine-man.

"It is difficult to watch family suffer the fate of the Androctonus. Many choose to leave their loved ones in my care alone until the pain passes," he said, his voice gentler and smoother than his youth and his vigor would suggest; but there was still an edge in the tone. "Yet you may stay as long as you understand your place." She tilted her head at the warning, but made no promise with her eyes. They were trapped within the customs of these people, and she felt the delicate dance of diplomacy with every interaction. She knew that her input into what little, if any, help they could provide to John would be dependent on remaining cordial. But she would not agree to sit by if he were being harmed.

Instead she returned her full attention to John and spent some few moments running a first aid check for herself. She felt John's pulse, felt his forehead for fever and gently ran her fingers over the edge of the inflammation that had spilled just slightly over his shoulders and up his neck to his jaw line, giving the impression that he was wearing a red cloak tied around his throat. She at last rested her hand on his forearm and shook it slightly, "John? Can you hear me?"

She thought she saw him knot his brow slightly at the question and so she waited. Finally he nodded, as much as the bindings would allow. "Still breathing, still feel like crap," he said as if to cut off her obvious next question. His voice was barely more than a growly whisper.

"I'm so sorry, John." Without meaning to allow them, the words just burst out of her and she bowed her head quickly to hide the shame on her face from the Shaman who continued to sit, watching them all with wary scrutiny.

"You knew these folks tied people up for fun?" he asked, almost managing to sound amused.

"Of course not!"

"Then...can't see what there is to apologize for..."

Teyla whipped her head back up to find him squinting at her. She frowned at the distance that remained in his expression, the amusement far from having reached his eyes. Before she could think of a reply, John went on, holding her in his gaze.

"Look, the Shaman, here, explained things to me. Apparently, after the tremors begin, seizures come next and then I die from heart failure and shock. AFTER a brief episode of going murderously mad, of course." He looked away, staring at the ceiling. "Iguel's probably right. Maybe you guys should wait outside."

Teyla shot a look of complete surprise at Rodney who was standing awkwardly at the foot of the platform, looking as uncomfortably puzzled as Teyla felt. This just wasn't John talking. Teyla felt a stab of fear that far outweighed any she'd yet experienced so far that evening. She dropped to her knees and touched John's cheek lightly with her fingertips.

"Ronon will bring medics from Atlantis long before you are in danger of your life. Help will be here within the hour."

"Even so..."

"Even so - what!?" Teyla snapped, angry at John for apparently giving in before the fight was over. "There is no 'even so'. Help will come. You will survive. And you will fight."

John narrowed his eyes, a flicker of anger in their depths, "It's the fighting I worry about. I don't want to survive if I end up hurting you or McKay. If you stay, and I go mad..." he trailed off swallowing hard for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as a deep shudder ran through him.

Teyla sat back on her heels. This was what was disturbing John so deeply? He was afraid of going mad and hurting her? He was afraid of hurting his friends? To her that fear seemed completely irrational; John would never hurt them, even in madness, no matter what Iguel's people believed. And even if he tried...

Teyla leaned close again and brushed a strand of hair off of John's forehead. "You will have to practice much more with the sticks before I fear you, John Sheppard. Even in madness!" she said firmly. John's eyes flew open and she cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to contradict her. He stared in serious thought for a long moment then flicked his eyes down to Rodney at his feet. Teyla shot a look at the scientist who jumped at the implicit command in her eyes.

"Oh sure. I'm not afraid of Sheppard either. I mean, if he comes at me or something I would, you know - I'd shoot him." Teyla widened her eyes in embarrassed reproach and Rodney threw up his hands. "Well I'd rather NOT shoot him, of course. I thought we were trying to reassure the sick man, here."

Teyla smiled and looked back at John. He was looking at the ceiling again and chewing his lips. At last he met her gaze, "Just...don't let me hurt anyone else, either," he asked softly, demanding a promise from her with his look. She nodded firmly and he seemed to finally relax, closing his eyes, and starting to pant a little bit, his breaths coming faster in soft gasps.

"What IS he doing, anyway?" blurted out Rodney and Teyla turned to see him staring at the Shaman who was swirling the bowl and returning the attention with equal intensity.

"He's waiting for the tea to cool," the Shaman answered, speaking himself and raising the bowl in explanation. "It will help soothe the flame under his skin." As if the question had prompted the proper timing, the Shaman dipped his fingers into the liquid and pulled out long, wide, wet brown leaves and began to plaster them over John's shoulders and neck, then coaxed John to arch his back so more leaves could be placed against the original sting and the inflammation on his back. John grunted, opening his mouth to pant harder.

"They're still hot, doc," John complained, narrowing his eyes at the unconcerned Shaman.

"The heat draws out the pain," retorted the Shaman, and John just sighed in a resigned of course it does kind of way.

"That's just disgusting," Rodney added as the Shaman next poured some of the remaining liquid into a tiny pitcher and insisted that John drink as much as he was able. John grimaced and managed to choke down several more swallows.

"The restraints I understand," he panted at Teyla after he'd stopped gagging from the vile taste of the herbal medicine. "But I may never forgive you for having to drink that stuff."

"I accept the responsibility," Teyla answered solemnly with a twinkle in her eye. In truth, the tea and leaves were the only thing Teyla felt reassured by.

John chuckled weakly, then coughed. Then he rolled his eyes to look vacantly at the ceiling and the soft gasps of his rapid breath became ragged moans.

"John?"

"He is experiencing a seizure," The Shaman answered, his voice thick with sympathy and distant with impotence.

Teyla gasped and felt panic rise as John's moans grew into hoarse shouts and his body began to thrash and twitch. She had seen people suffer seizures, but this was unlike any she'd witnessed before. Rather than random and uncoordinated jerking that was, in her experience, frightening enough, this was violent thrashing and almost coordinated, repetitive wrenching of arms and legs against the restraints. The straps on John's arms began to cut into the already raw flesh and blood began to ooze onto his forearms and wrists.

"Rodney, help me!" Teyla ordered with panicky control, then grabbed for John's closet arm, holding it firmly into the blankets of the platform. Rodney joined her on the other side, and they managed to keep him from damaging himself even more. John strained against the strap around his head, his back arching up off the table and his neck standing out in strings of tension. A long minute of terrifying wrestling passed. When the convulsions finally faded into mild twitching, and John's shoulders relaxed again onto the blankets, Teyla hung her head for several deep breaths, feeling her own shoulders shaking with reaction. A last glance at John confirmed him deeply unconscious, sweat and blood slicked across his face, the blood seeping out from the abraded skin under the strap on his forehead and beading from the corner of his mouth; he'd apparently bitten his lip during the episode.

She lifted her head and met Rodney's equally disturbed look. As one, they both turned to the Shaman who was adding more leaves to an oil lamp, and fanning the smoke into the room. From the sudden burst of scent, Teyla realized that the lamp was the source of the tingling fragrance throughout the hut. She could feel Rodney's anger bubbling under his terror, even from across the platform, so she spoke first and quickly, desperate to maintain the delicate truce she'd managed with these people. If the Shaman ordered them removed, there would be little they could do to protect John.

"Shaman, our concern for our friend is great. Is there nothing more you can do? Can you tell us nothing more about the venom's affects and how we might soothe our friend's suffering?"

Rodney glowered at her carefully formal questions, but she tilted her head in warning at him, begging him with her eyes to keep himself under control.

"Once the seizures begin, the afflicted stands at the beginning of the end. Two paths lead away from your friend. Both lead to death; only one has ever led to escaping the Androctonus' claim."

"Could you please be a little more obtuse? I think I might have understood a little about what you were saying!" Unable to stand the tension combined with the mystic way many spiritual leaders spoke, Rodney burst into a little fit of sarcasm. But Teyla was listening closely.

"Shaman, tell me about the path that leads to survival?"

"The venom stresses the body so severely, most die from the heart's inability to withstand the strain. There is a medicine, the Dream Serum, that can encourage the heart and body to continue to function beyond its normal capacity. If it can do so long enough for the venom's effect to fade, then there is a chance that your friend can recover. There is also the chance that the medicine will not push the body enough, and the chance that the medicine will push too much and he will die from its own effects."

"And if he does not take that path?" Teyla needed to be sure she understood the Shaman's choice.

"He will die."

"How long, though. How long will the body be able to withstand the stress without taking the Dream Serum?"

The Shaman glanced over at John with a sad look, "Most do not survive a third seizure. The pain and the call of the Androctonus are greatest after the first. Your friend is the most dangerous in this hour. The hunters will post a strong guard around the hut, now. If you choose the Dream Serum, you must do so before he seizes again or he may not regain consciousness again to take the medicine."

Teyla closed her eyes, forcing calm into her otherwise desperately terrified mind. She was a leader of people, but she had never held just one person's life so intimately in her hands. What would John wish? What would Dr. Keller advise? When would Ronon get here?

"How long do you believe John has before a second seizure begins?" she asked. Ronon could not get to them for another 30 minutes in the most hopeful of scenarios.

"Some seize in rapid succession. Your friend is quite strong, a good candidate for the Dream Serum. I guess that he will fight the venom well, perhaps as long as four turns." The Shaman gestured to a simple sand-timer, then, for demonstration, he turned it once and set it down to begin its slow trickle. Teyla watched the sand fall, counting seconds and guessing at the amount of time the sand represented. She closed her eyes again, this time laying her hand on John's and squeezing his fingers tightly.

"And how long before he dies if we refuse the Dream Serum?"

"The end is swift after the second seizure, another two turns."

Teyla sucked in a sharp breath that might have been a sob.

30 minutes.

If the Shaman's guess was correct, John had 30 minutes to live.