Teyla turned away from the Shaman and bent over John, still holding his hand. To distract herself from the decision thrust upon her, she gently wiped away the trickle of blood from the corner of his lip with her finger and brushed fine strands of hair plastered in sweat and blood off his forehead.

"You can't do it," said Rodney suddenly, leaning over John to speak to her in an intense whisper.

"Can't do what?"

"You can't let these people give him any crazy potions or magic plants. For all we know, the stuff might be meant to take out a victim even quicker, to relieve the symptoms permanently so to speak."

Teyla frowned, unsurprised by Rodney's opinion on the situation, but somewhat taken aback by the bitter mistrust in his tone. "I don't think they would give him such a thing without telling us what it does?"

"So, then one guy got lucky - once. Maybe this dream potion had something to do with it, maybe not."

"The Shaman has told us that the Dream Serum offers no guarantees, Rodney. He is not deceiving us!"

"They tie people up, Teyla! Tie them up when they're sick and leave them to die with the man who makes the tea!" Rodney's whisper had become a furious hiss, and Teyla studied him warily for a long moment, certain she'd never seen the man quite so upset or frightened. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay calm, telling herself over and over that Rodney was only scared.

"Your people also restrain those who are sick when they are a threat to themselves and others, Rodney. I trust that the Dolsans are trying their best to help in the way that they know best..."

"You're going to do it, then. You're going to let them give him this dream stuff!"

"I haven't decided yet, Rodney."

"Who says you get to decide!?"

"I do," croaked a weak whisper below their fiercely bent together faces. For the second time that night, they jerked their heads towards John and felt themselves jolted out of senseless arguing. "Teyla...knows these people. She...decides."

Teyla felt her eyes sting with emotion as she looked at John's pain-creased brow and tension-taut shoulders. He blinked slowly, still groggily returning to consciousness. The tension spread from the shoulders to his jaw and into his hands, the one entwined with Teyla's gripping with trembling ferocity. Despite all he'd been put through, all he'd endured, John still trusted her. He always had, she knew. But in that terrible moment, when his life could literally be determined by her actions in the next twenty minutes, she suddenly realized that what was so wonderfully, uniquely John was that his trust wasn't founded on proofs or great noble acts. It was John Sheppard trust: the kind where you were summed up in an instant of keen perception and he decided he trusted you. And once he did, that was it. It was the kind of trust that bound people to him in a way she'd never seen before, and it was the glue that bound their team together.

She glanced back at Rodney who was staring at John with suspicious curiosity, "Sheppard, do you even know what we're talking about here?" he asked.

John chewed his lip for a long moment then shrugged ever so slightly. "Not really," he gasped.

Teyla laughed, a desperate, choking, sob of relieved tension.

"I didn't think so," Rodney sighed, clearly still angry but bound to John in the same way she was. He would accept her decision, because John had asked him to. With a cold shiver, Teyla suddenly wondered what would become of their team if they ever lost John. Feeling a surge of resolve and fierce determination, she refused to accept that possibility. She watched John for a long time, saw the pain that the Shaman anticipated would be more severe than even before creep into every muscle and contort his face into a mask of effort. She finally took a deep breath, certain of her path. She would not let doubt deviate her from what she felt was truly John's best chance at survival.

"We'll wait a little, see if we hear from Atlantis or get any information about when they might arrive. If it looks like they will not arrive before John is in danger of a second seizure, the Shaman may administer the Dream Serum." Her voice rang with authority, and she saw both Rodney and John nod slightly, if only at the decisiveness in her tone.

She turned back to the Shaman, who had been again politely ignoring their conversation and Teyla's respect for the man went up a notch at the realization that the man could easily have been offended by Rodney's not-so-private outburst. He instead seemed to have chosen to allow the friends to work out their difficulties as they had needed to. He was a wise spiritual leader.

Holding his eyes, she completed her request, "John may have need of the Dream Serum, what do we need to do to prepare for it?"

The Shaman nodded, concerned intensity knotted on his brow. "I will prepare the Serum. It takes little time, but I must retrieve it from the herb cellar. He started immediately for the door of the hut, pausing at the threshold. He twisted back briefly to add, "Iguel will send in a guard to watch over your friend while I am gone." Then he slipped out before Teyla could so much as begin to form a protest.

A moment later, Iguel himself and two other hunters, armed with their spears and knives glittering on their belts stepped inside to stand alertly at either side of the door. Iguel crossed the room and stood at John's feet, his face a mask of pained fury. Teyla was nervously worried about the hunt leader's presence. He was clearly distraught by the situation that reminded him of his own tragic past. For a moment, she wondered if he often stood guard at others' sickbeds. She wondered if he felt he was paying penance for the death his father had committed. Or did he feel so convinced by the experience, that all who were bitten were lost, that he carried out the duty to guard with something like fanaticism.

She looked at Iguel warily for a moment, then shot a glance at Rodney who stood glaring at Iguel with his arms crossed, and his chin tilted up in barely controlled temper. Teyla understood his anger.

"There is no need to worry, Iguel," Teyla said sternly. "We are in no danger from our friend."

"You do not know the strength of the call of the Androctonus," Iguel answered back tightly, and Teyla could only sigh and returned her attention to John. Healing her friend Iguel was beyond her capacity.

John had continued to tense and his whole body seemed strung like a bow, taut against the restraints. His face seemed pale and he tightened his grip on her hand as a moaning gasp escaped his lips. "John, is there anything I can do?" Teyla suddenly wished the Shaman hadn't left, she desperately wanted some way to relieve his pain.

John didn't, or couldn't, answer but writhed with another trembling wave of suffering. His eyes began to dart wildly around the room, taking in the guards, flicking over Teyla and Rodney, then returning to Iguel who shifted his hands on his spear restlessly. Teyla reached for his neck and found his heart pounding, even feeling the vibrations against her palm that rested lightly against his chest. Rodney had begun to pace back and forth, wringing his hands as he helplessly watched John ride out another surge. Another moan, sounding like a growl of anger was wrenched from him and he worked his hands open and shut, twisting against the restraints.

"Is he having another seizure?" Rodney asked meekly.

"He feels the call," Iguel whispered.

"He feels great pain!" Teyla snapped, feeling helpless herself. "Iguel, go and bring the Shaman, please! There must be something he can do."

Iguel just scoffed and scuffed his feet more firmly into the ground.

John moaned again, "Sssstop, stop, stop..." he began to pant, his wild eyes locked on Iguel.

"Stop what John? What needs to stop?" Teyla forced her voice into soothing tones.

"Make it stop. It hurts, make him stop."

Teyla was confused, understanding nothing but that John was delirious with pain and had set his sights on Iguel. "John, you've been stung by a scorpion. You're suffering from its venom. Can you remember? The pain will pass, you must be strong."

John shuddered and closed his eyes tightly. His face was slick with sweat again and she twisted to look around for a cloth or something to cool his head. She spotted a wooden barrel and a drinking gourd across the room and, giving John a hasty pat, she untangled her fingers from his and quickly jogged over to snatch at a towel that was set nearby and began to dip it in the water that was stored in the barrel as she'd suspected. A sudden scuffle behind her startled the cloth out of her hands and she whirled, heart pounding.

With an almighty, vicious and desperate wrench, John had snapped the leather thong that held his right wrist to the platform. His yelp of pain at the yank stunned Iguel long enough for John to next shove at the strap across his head, pushing it off and scraping the skin into a long oozing band of raw flesh. Teyla spun just as John heaved himself upright and began to reach over for the straps around his boots. Iguel gripped his spear and drew it back for a stabbing thrust at John's chest.

"No! Iguel, NO!" she shouted, throwing herself back across the room, even as she realized the two guards by the door were also moving towards John.

Iguel never completed the thrust. Rodney lowered his shoulder and clumsily plowed into the hunter, knocking him sideways. They both staggered away from the foot of the platform and Teyla watched in horror as the distraction gave John the time to finish pulling the hidden knife out of his boot and cut the bindings around his ankles and remaining wrist. Shocked at how quickly and smoothly he was moving in his pain enraged state, Teyla watched him throw his legs over the side and stagger to his feet.

John wobbled unsteadily in roughly her direction and she skidded to a halt, planting herself between him and the hunters who were also nearly upon him, their own spears drawn back. Rodney stumbled and shoved until he had bulled his way next to her and together they stood with their hands out, barring the hunters from approaching any nearer. Teyla could hear John's ragged breath behind her, and he took a few more scuffling steps before he also stopped moving.

Iguel pushed his hunters aside and gestured fiercely with his spear, "Move out of the way before you are killed by your own folly."

Teyla shook her head firmly. "No, Iguel. It is you who need to lower your weapons."

A deadly click sounded just behind Teyla's right shoulder and she blinked in horrified realization: John's holster and 9mil had been tossed aside to lie in a heap, just about where John was standing now.

Slowly turning her head, she risked a glance behind her. John stood in firing stance, his legs planted one in front of the other and the 9mil cocked at shoulder height. She continued to turn slowly, realizing that he was shaking with the effort of holding the position. He blinked and shook his head a little, but his eyes and the muzzle remained locked on Iguel.

"Iguel, listen to me," Teyla spoke low and calmly. John never even glanced at her. "You must lower your spear. You will be in no danger if you lower your weapon."

"He's mad! He belongs to the Androctonus. He will kill all of us if we don't kill him first!" Iguel sounded panicky, on the verge of hysteria, and Teyla cursed the Shaman for allowing the man to be here. Surely the healer had known how unstable Iguel would be in this situation...not that any of them had expected John to free himself, she admitted.

John hissed at the anxiety in the man's voice and raised his weapon even higher. Teyla took a quick step directly in the line of fire and waited until she caught and held John's bleary confused eyes.

"He's sick. He's in pain. You are threatening him, Iguel," she said softly over her shoulder, then held out her hand and took a single step towards John.

John squinted at her, then leaned a little to try to find Iguel again, but Teyla shifted with him, forcing him to meet her gaze again. She took another step closer, John began to shudder even harder and the weapon wavered in his grasp. "You will not harm me, John. You need to put the gun down."

"I...can't...can't stop the pain. Make him stop it." He sounded angry, desperate.

"We will stop it together John. The pain will pass." She held him in her gaze, saw him wrestling between his unwillingness to hurt her and his irrational pain-fueled fury.

"Move ssside," he slurred, gesturing wildly with the weapon.

Teyla took one more step. "You will not hurt anyone. You are strong, John. You will fight the pain and it will pass."

John shook his head, as if she just didn't understand. "I can't stop it," he said, his voice pleading.

"Then you will endure it."

John rolled his head, then bit his lips as the internal battle for control was fought. His gun dipped then lifted again; he shook his head, then planted his feet more firmly. After a silent but intensely personal struggle, Teyla finally saw the moment that the anger evaporated, conquered by willpower alone, leaving only the desperation behind. Desperation and maybe just a tiny flicker of triumph. John closed his eyes and Teyla quickly closed the distance, gently pushing his raised gun arm down. He leaned into her slightly as she wrapped her arms around him, holding his to his sides and pinning them tightly, even as she rested her cheek against his shoulder. His panting breath tickled her hair, and she felt his body trembling against her.

"The pain will pass," she whispered again, certain she could keep that promise, terrified that it would be his death that brought him relief.

Rodney stepped closer and put his hands on John's arms from behind as well, holding him securely between them in friendship and strength. The gun dropped to the floor beside her foot. A long quiet moment passed, then she heard a spear being thrown angrily to the ground and feet stomping towards the door. She heard the leather flap thrust aside, then the feet were gone. John leaned harder and curled up against her in tense agony. Teyla struggled to stay upright as he buried his face in her neck.

"Help us get him back to the bed," she heard Rodney say, and there were suddenly two more pairs of hands on John's arms, holding and guiding him to the platform. The two remaining, very confused but helpful guards lay him down on the blankets where he curled into a tight ball, then they returned to their post by the door, spears resting forgotten in loose hands. Rodney busied himself with fussing over the rumpled blankets, then, finding no more inane tasks to complete, he sank onto the stool where the Shaman had been sitting and scrubbed his face with his hands.

Teyla stood looking over John with her arms wrapped around herself, trying to regain her composure. She had seen the delusional fury in John's eyes, and knew how close he had been to a raging rampage. She had seen how hard he had fought to release the anger. He still shuddered and writhed ever-so-slightly in the venom's grasp and she saw the constant effort and exhaustion beginning taking its toll. He was weakening. Despite all his strength, or perhaps because of it, he had run down his reserves and she saw him slipping swiftly into defeat.

The Shaman returned only a short time later. He dismissed the guards and walked over to stand next to Teyla, studying John as carefully as she had been. "His strength is failing," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Teyla breathed in reply. She knew the moment had come. They had heard nothing from Atlantis but as she looked at John, she realized that even if they came exactly when she expected them, the earliest they could possibly be there, she knew that John would not survive until then without intervention. He would not last the full thirty minutes. "We must give him your Dream Serum to sustain him. He needs it now."

"It is ready. If you are ready, you may place this on his tongue while I steep the rest in some hot water." The Shaman handed Teyla a small piece of the ever-present brown tea leaf, this one dried and about the size of a quarter. At her puzzled, worried look, the Shaman nodded encouragingly, "The medicine is soaked into the leaf and allowed to dry. The amount on the leaf is only a portion of the dose he requires, but it will be absorbed much more quickly into his system from the tongue, starting its effects hopefully in time. The rest he will need to swallow."

She nodded, then knelt beside the platform, brushing his hair again and shaking his shoulder to rouse him. He groaned and rolled halfway back onto his back to peer at her, his expression more weary than uncomfortable. "You must hold this on your tongue, John. It is powerful medicine that will help you fight the venom. Will you take it?"

John nodded. Before Teyla could place the leaf, Rodney's soft, strangled voice held her hand. "Teyla. Are you sure about this?" She looked over to see the scientist clasping his hands tightly together and leaning over his knees to stare at the floor. He finally looked up and met her eyes with cold, repressed anger. Are you sure, because I don't trust these people and trust their primitive medicine even less.

Teyla hesitated for only the barest fraction of an instant. "Yes, Rodney. I'm sure." And she held the leaf to John's lips.