Given a chance to set foot outside the ship and actually go planetside for well over a year, it was a given that Guide would act on it. After this long, it was a blessing to see something else. Not that wraith believed in such things, but he'd heard fellow travelers talk.

On this one particular day he's wandering one of the smaller towns on his own. He'd been keeping an eye out for a new coat. His current one really is getting too worn, almost starting to come apart at the seams. Asking a local had given him directions to a tailor, so that's where he's heading when he spots Carson Beckett tending to a small child. He gives the man a nod in passing but doesn't stop. Though Beckett's unease seems to have lessened somewhat, they are not on particularly friendly terms.

The explosion come from nowhere seconds after Guide has passed, completely unexpected and severe enough to knock even him off his feet.

With ears ringing from the blast and with a few aches and pains but nothing more severe than that, he pushes himself up on his knees and then to stand, looking back at the devastation. People are screaming. Doctor Beckett, wasn't he..? Oh yes. There he is, and from this distance Guide can't tell if he's alive or dead. In any case he's not moving, and since it seems that his clothes has caught fire to some degree, that has to mean unconscious.

A few thoughts run through Guide's mind at once, in just the span of a couple of seconds. One being; why should he care? He could just be on his way. Another is that, as far as humans goes, Beckett isn't so bad. A third is that if Beckett were to die here, then Sheppard would be quite saddened by it.

WIth an exasperated snarl, the old Wraith steers his steps towards the injured man lying there, snapping open the clasps of his coat and pulling it off, to use it to quench the flames eating away at the fabric burning the flesh underneath. Well. That really was the deathblow for that coat, wasn't it?

With the fire dealt with, it's time to assess the damage. And, while the doctor is apparently still alive, it quickly becomes apparent that this is about as bad as it gets. The burns are extensive and they alone would be life threatening. But the rasping, wet sound of the human's shallow breathing suggest a punctured lung, at best. Pulse is thready and weak, and when carefully lifting his eyelids Guide finds his pupils to be dilated and uneven, responding only slightly to the light. Concussion is a given, though with this degree of trauma intracranial hemorrhaging can hardly be ruled out. Or any other internal bleeding, for that matter.

Amongst his own kin, Guide is a warrior and officer rather than a scientist or doctor. But he is far from unskilled. It has been said before, that he has the heart of a cleverman. And, in his opinion, Beckett only has minutes at best. Possibly too little to even get him back onto the Enterprise and into the sickbay. Honestly, it’s surprising he isn’t dead already.

Again, those thoughts from earlier run through Guide’s head. This time, they end with a sigh rather than a snarl before he swiftly rips open the tattered fabric to bare Beckett’s chest. ”You are going to owe me for this,” he mutters as he lays his feeding hand there, pushing down and setting his claws. The first second there’s a pull, whetting his appetite. But he pushes it away, pushing back, pushing his own life into Beckett rather than taking what little remained of his, forcing his body to start healing and to bring him back from death’s doorstep.

The Wraith isn't concerned when Beckett stops breathing. He could have brought him back even later than this if needed be. But the toll it would take on him would have been greater. But when the man gasps sharply for air again and begins to move ever so slightly under his hand, he still feels a brief moment of pleased triumph.

Then Beckett opens his eyes, and Guide really can't help a smirk at the obvious confusion. "I could always take it back."

He can't know exactly how injured Beckett was, or how much he's healed. When he thinks he's given enough, that Beckett will be able to make it back onto the ship and into the sickbay without dying along the way, he lets the flow of life taper off and lifts his hand away. It wouldn't be good if he gave more than this. He can already feel it, a deep weariness settling over him, the ache of hunger like burning embers in his very bones. Oh yes, the good doctor is going to owe him for this, indeed.

"Why do you humans always have to state the obvious?" It's not a question he expects an answer to, and he's really only commenting for the sake of talking, or rather to try to engage Beckett into talking. Leaning over he's more gentle than what one might expect when he uses his thumb to pry open Beckett's eyelids, first one then the other, to check the pupillary responses now. Yes, much better.

"There is hope for you yet, doctor. With some luck you might even live. Though I think we had best get you to the sickbay to improve your chances." Now, where did his commbadge go? Oh yes, over there, still attached to the collar of his battered and now singed coat. He can only hope it still works.

"That is rather irrelevant, I would say," Todd answers simply, as he retrieves the goat to remove the comm. "As you are unfit to do anything about it, and I am otherwise occupied."