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Bastet

"Bloody hell," Beckett muttered, "I'm not half coupin."

Svetlana Vasileva, one of his nurses, turned around with an expression of polite concern. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he said, waving his hand with a dismissive smile. "I've just got a headache." It had come on very suddenly, at the same time the lights had blinked out in the infirmary. If Beckett didn't know better, he might have even thought that the one thing had something to do with the other. But that made no sense--people didn't get instant headaches from a change in the light.

He hoped that whatever had caused the momentary blackout wasn't anything serious. He couldn't help wondering if there was another one of the black entities loose in the city, and the thought almost made him shudder. He remembered all too well what it had been like when Lieutenant Ford had been brought in after being touched by the creature. He'd never said anything to Ford or Sheppard, but he was privately amazed the young man hadn't died.

He really didn't want to have to go through that again, not with anyone.

But whatever the cause, it felt like he had a nail in each temple; he could practically feel the pain throbbing in time with his heartbeat. It wasn't going to be possible to work like this.

Beckett sighed, leaving the experiment he was conducting to go get a painkiller. Hopefully a couple of aspirins would set him to rights--

The lights went off again, and the nails suddenly became railroad spikes. Beckett cried out involuntarily, clutching the edge of his worktable when the world started spinning. When the lights blinked on a moment later he was nauseas and trembling.

Svetlana was at his side in an instant, helping him back to his chair. "What is it?" She asked, her Russian accent becoming more pronounced with her worry. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Beckett said. He was blinking spots out of his eyes. He felt something on his upper lip and rubbed it absently with his hand. His fingers came away bloody.

"Do you need to lie down?" Svetlana asked. Her eyes kept flitting between his fingers and his face. "Should I get Doctor Olivares?"

"No," Beckett said. He knew better than to shake his head. "Just… give me a minute. I'll be all right." He was still staring dully at his blood-smeared fingers. The pain had only faded from excruciating to agonizing, but that didn't matter. It was obvious now that the power shortage and his headache was no coincidence. He had a bad feeling he was going to be needed.

"I'll get Doctor Weir," Svetlana said. Beckett nodded carefully, and she went over to the comm system set in the wall.

She was just about to turn it on when Sergeant Stackhouse came in, dragging Sergeant Markham. "He said his head hurt," Stackhouse said, "--and then he just collapsed." The poor lad looked terrified.

Svetlana came rushing over, and she and Stackhouse helped move Markham onto one of the infirmary beds. Markham's face was very pale, and there was blood leaking out of both his nostrils.

Beckett pushed himself off the chair with an effort, trying not to weave as he walked as quickly as possible to the comm.

He needed to let Weir know that members of her personnel had somehow been incapacitated, if she wasn't already aware of it; they might well need to send rescue teams for some of them.

And then he needed to contact Doctor Olivares. It looked like he'd be asking for her help after all.

Peterson swore hotly in nearly every one of the seventeen Earth based languages she spoke, liberally peppering the expletives with a few choice words of Goa'uld and Ancient she had picked up at the SGC.

The bright flash that arced in the tiny room had blinded her momentarily, but the all-too human scream that had accompanied it galvanized her into action. It took several moments for her eyes to adjust to the near-dark of the room and let her locate the pen light. She snatched it up and crawled over to Doctor McKay's inert body. Peterson heaved him onto his back and franticly searched for a pulse. She realized she was panicking, and made herself stop, take a breath, and then check. McKay's skin was cold and clammy, but she found a pulse. It was really fast, but it seemed steady enough. She started checking him over. He was obviously unconscious and in shock, but breathing. He had a nasty bruise already forming along his temple from where he had hit the wall. Peterson felt down his arms and his chest and didn't feel any broken bones, but that didn't mean he couldn't have cracked ribs. She shone the light on his hands and grimaced. They were burned, but not too badly.

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap! This was one of the reasons she had transferred out of her exploration team!

Peterson wracked her memory, trying to remember first aid for electrocution, head trauma, shock. She started through her litany of expletives again.

She sat back on her heels a moment to think. One at a time, she told herself.

Electrocution.

Peterson checked his hands again. Burned. Some blistering, but nothing charred. She thought a moment. Electricity affected the heart and the brain. His heart was beating and he wasn't having a seizure or anything, so maybe that meant he was all right. Also, the body acted as a really good conductor and went in one place and out another.

She paused and then gently rolled him on his side, sliding his arm out of one the sleeves of his jacket. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it up, checking his back. After a minute or so of examination, she couldn't find any exit wounds. The brunt of it must have just been located in his hands. Peterson breathed a small sigh of relief and pulled his shirt back down, and then threaded his limp arm back through the jacket sleeve. She rolled him onto his back again.

Head trauma.

Peterson grabbed the penlight from where she had left it on the floor and knelt over McKay. She could vaguely remember something about checking to see if the pupils were equal and reacted to light. She carefully peeled back his right eye and stared at it, flashing the light into it and out again. Peterson watched in fascination as the pupil dilated in the darkness and then contracted to a pin prick in the light. She repeated the process on the left eye with the same reaction. Well, that was a good thing, right?

Peterson checked for bleeding from the ears. Nothing. McKay's nose was bleeding slightly, but didn't seem to be broken. She dug in her pockets for something to wipe away the blood with, but came up with nothing, so she used her sleeve. It didn't take much work because it had already stopped bleeding on its own.

Shock.

She sat back. There wasn't much she could do for that, but keep him warm. She tried to make him comfortable as she could and pulled off her jacket and draped it over him.

Peterson sighed. This was bad. This was why she transferred off SG4 and became a lab monkey. That, and because she didn't trust herself any more after that mission to Avalon. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her forehead down on her knees.

A soft groan snapped her head up and she quickly crawled over to McKay's side. He shifted a little and then confused, pain filled eyes struggled open.

"Doctor McKay, are you okay?" she asked him.

He stared at her a moment. "What happened?" he asked, closing his eyes and grimacing as he shifted to try to sit up.

Peterson helped him sit up and slide back so he was resting against the alcove wall.

"The panel you were working on shorted out and you took a pretty hard jolt. How are you feeling?" she asked him again.

"Electrocuted," McKay said dryly, his eyes finally focusing on her. "Did the door open?"

Peterson shook her head. "No."

He groaned in frustration and struggled to get to his feet, but Peterson pushed him back down. "Doctor McKay, you need to rest for a minute. You just about electrocuted yourself. Give your body a moment to recover."

McKay frowned at her. "We really need to get out of this alcove."

"Fine. I agree," she told him. "But tell me what to do and rest for a minute."

McKay put his hands down on the floor to shift his position and hissed, quickly pulling his hands onto his lap. "Ow," he said, his face screwing up in pain. He swore softly under his breath and then looked at her. "Did I burn out the door crystals?"

"I don't know."

"Then check them," he snapped.

Peterson bit back a comment. The man was hurt and not thinking too clearly yet. She got to her feet and went to the panel. With some trepidation, she touched one of the crystals. She jerked her hand away, almost expecting it to shock her, but it didn't. She pulled one of the crystals out and shone her pen light over it. "This one is fine."

"Check the other two," McKay said shortly, cradling his hands against his chest.

Peterson slid the crystal back into place and then pulled out the other one. It looked fine as well. The third one wasn't there. She shone the light along the floor, looking for it. After a few minutes of searching she found it, lodged in a crack against one wall. She held it up to the light and sighed. "The ones still in the panel are fine, but this one is cracked," she said, holding and shining the light through it so McKay could see.

McKay reached up for it, flinching as he took hold of it. He struggled to get back to his feet. "It might still work for us it as a jumper to hotwire the door open."

Peterson bared his way. "I don't think so," she said, snatching the crystal out of his loose grip. "You nearly fried yourself doing that the last time. That's obviously not going to work."

"There isn't another way," he shot back. "These things don't have wires you can just reroute."

She stared at him long and hard another moment, and then looked at the crystal. "What do I need to do?"

He stared at her. "I'll do it."

"No," she said, pinning him with a look. "You're hurt and you can barely hold onto to it. What do I do?"

He sighed. "You need use is as a jumper between the top crystal and the bottom on. The arc should be enough to open the doors."

She nodded and took it back to the panel. She took a deep breath, then touched the top crystal, and slowly bumped the bottom one with the crystal she held. She let out a yelp as electricity snapped at her fingers, jolting the crystal out of her hand. She stuck her fingers in her mouth, but this time the door opened.

"Are you okay?" McKay asked worriedly, hovering behind her.

"I'm fine," she said, grabbing his arm and hauling him through the door before it shut on them again.

The door clamped shut with a dull metallic clang behind them. The sound echoed eerily through the darkened corridors.

"Oh, this is nice," McKay said softly, his voice sounding strangely flat.