You see many things during a surgical residency at Johns Hopkins. The hospital's located in one of the worst parts of Baltimore, so the emergency room is always filled with trauma of every sort imaginable. People get shot in places you wouldn't think possible and consume almost every substance known to man. So when I was finished with my training, you can forgive me for thinking that I couldn't be surprised by anything anymore.

Of course, that changed when I moved my practice to the Pegasus galaxy. However, after many months here, I once again fell into the trap of thinking that nothing could surprise me. Life-sucking alien bug-people? No problem. A 10,000 year-old doppelganger from an alternate universe? I can handle it. A body with two consciousnesses, one of whom has the hots for my boss? Please, don't make me laugh.

My complacency came back to bite me in the ass when the last person I expected was dragged into the infirmary after a drug overdose: Rodney McKay.

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I think I was fortunate to have been spared the experience of watching Rodney when he came through the gate from Ford's planet. From Elizabeth's frantic report to Carson, I knew it must have been quite a sight. He's normally a frenetic person, bouncing from one idea to the next, but this was supposedly amplified ten-fold after exposure to the Wraith enzyme.

It makes me shudder just to think about it.

Rodney was unconscious when he first arrived, but unfortunately it didn't last. "NO! What are you doing?" he screamed when he realized where he was. "I have to go back!"

Carson ducked between the two nurses trying to get him onto a gurney. "Calm down, Rodney!" he ordered. "Let us take care of you, lad."

Rodney twisted and writhed, causing two marines to step up to aid the nurses. "I'm fine. Go help Sheppard and the others!"

Elizabeth was standing in the background, and now she spoke up. "We can better help them if you calm down enough to tell us where they are!"

Carson jumped back as Rodney tried to lunge at him. "Get out of here!" he snapped to Elizabeth. Then he turned to the marines. "Hold him down, damn it!" It took several more minutes, but between the soldiers and the nurses they subdued Rodney long enough to get restraint cuffs around all four extremities.

"Do you want me to get some haldol, Dr. Beckett?" one of the nurses, a wide-eyed young woman, asked. I think she was new to the city. Hell of an introduction.

"I don't want to sedate him until we know more about what we're dealing with." As Carson spoke, I stepped up to the gurney and started applying monitor leads. He nodded his thanks, then continued. "We'll need a complete set of blood chemistries and a tox screen. Include a Wraith enzyme level, too."

I flipped on the cardiac monitor. It immediately started to squeal as the EKG tracing shot across the screen. "Heart rate 168, looks like sinus tach," I said. Next to me Rodney continued to fight the restraints, snarling wordlessly now.

"Lovely. Can you get a blood pressure?"

It was hard, since our patient's movements kept screwing up the reading, but eventually I had my answer. "220 over 140!" I whistled. To put it in technical terms, Rodney was lucky if his brains didn't squeeze out through his ears.

"Oh, crap," Carson growled. "All right, people, here's what has to happen. We need to get this daft bugger calm and stabilized, then he needs a head scan to make sure he hasn't killed anything in there with that skyrocketing pressure." He shook his head and I heard him mutter under his breath, "Did he really take that stuff voluntarily!"

Carson called for a beta blocker to lower Rodney's heart rate and blood pressure, and the new nurse jumped to get a dose of IV lopressor. In the middle of this, Rodney began complaining of severe nausea, so I administered compazine in defense of my shoes. We continued in this fashion, but after he got out of the restraints twice and almost hit me in the head we realized that we needed to put Rodney down if we were going to be able to treat him effectively. A hefty dose of Valium worked quite nicely, and things went much more smoothly after that.

A familiar voice behind me made me tense in anticipation. Elizabeth had returned to the infirmary, and she had brought that prick Caldwell with her. I still hadn't forgiven him for the way he acted when John was infected with the retrovirus. He'd added to Elizabeth's anguish at a time when she needed his support. And he tried to throw his weight around while I was nominally in charge of the infirmary.

I didn't quite tell him what to go do with himself, but it was very close.

Despite his famous temper, Carson kept a firmer grip on his emotions than I did as he walked over to the two of them. In fact, the only thing I could hear in his voice was mild surprise. He explained what was going on in blunt, precise terms. Rodney, if he survived, was going to have a hell of a time going through withdrawal. The Wraith enzyme resembled no Earthly drug, so who knew how Rodney's body was going to react.

Then it was my turn to be surprised when Caldwell suggested going out to harvest more enzyme. I didn't think he would be compassionate like that. Too bad his idea couldn't work. Rodney's metabolism was running like a furnace. I don't even think we could get a team through the gate before he went into withdrawal. Rodney was going to have to get through this the old-fashioned way.

"Cold turkey," said Caldwell.

Yup.

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After several hours we were able to decrease the sedation, which was a good thing for Rodney. It wasn't so good for us, though, since he proceeded to rant incomprehensibly. Carson took the brunt of the abuse, although none of us was spared. I was a "knuckle-dragging Neanderthal" who butted into everyone else's business. I can think of several classmates (and one or two ex-girlfriends) who might have agreed with him.

Carson stayed at his bedside pretty much the entire time, leaving it only to personally check on test results or order different medications. I know he cares deeply about all his patients, and about Atlantis's primary team in particular, but this went even beyond what he usually does. I wondered why, until I overheard one particular conversation he had with Rodney.

True to form, it began with Rodney insulting the CMO's parentage and accusing him of proclivities toward barnyard animals, and then it went downhill from there. Carson barely batted an eyelash as the physicist accused him of taking pleasure in his pain, knowing that Rodney was in the full throes of withdrawal. A recent test had shown no trace of the enzyme left in his blood, and his body was obviously feeling the loss. He began pleading for the drug, offering everything up to his first-born child for another dose. Sadly, we had none, so his next request was for Carson to kill him.

Jeez, that's two. Who's going to ask us to take them out next, Ronon?

All right, I know that sounds flippant. But it's still really disturbing that two men were brought to a state where they sought death rather than healing from a physician. I've gotten that request from terminal cancer patients, but never from anyone who was otherwise relatively healthy.

"You have no idea of the agony I'm going through," Rodney sobbed.

I saw a dark look cross Carson's face, as if he were remembering something better left buried. This was followed by other, equally unreadable, emotions. Almost too softly for me to hear, he said, "Oh, I have an inkling."

At that point. Carson turned around and noticed me. "Steve, can you take over for a spell? I'll be back in a few." He walked out of the room without another word.

What the hell?

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By the time he came back, though, I had resolved not to say anything. Sure, I was curious. But I didn't see how the information would help me take care of Rodney, so this wasn't the time to ask. If Carson wanted, he could tell me later.

Eventually Rodney couldn't rant anymore and fell asleep ("finally, mercifully," as Carson said to Elizabeth). Our stalwart CMO continued to sit at his bedside, though, despite Elizabeth's gentle urging. So after checking up on the other patients in the infirmary, I did the same. We sat in silence for a long time. Finally, without looking up, Carson said, "I suppose you'd like to know what I meant back there."

"Only if you want to tell me."

He leaned back and put his feet up on the side of the bed. Good thing Rodney wasn't conscious or he'd start bitching about cleanliness or some other such thing. "It happened to me," Carson admitted.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He laughed somewhat bitterly. "You never think it'll be you. Oh, you listen to the warnings, but deep down inside where it counts you think you'll be able to keep control."

"What happened, Carson?" I asked softly.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which was beginning to look like John's. "I don't know what medical training is like in the States, but it was pretty damn brutal when I studied at Edinburgh. This happened during -- well, let's just say that it corresponds to the internship year in American hospitals. We weren't paid very well, so I shared a flat with a fellow I knew from university."

I remembered internship. We were paid crap, barely enough to afford the rent. But that was okay, since we never spent time at home, anyway. Supposedly there was one surgical training program that was actually proud that it had a divorce rate greater than 100 percent. The guys -- and they were mostly guys -- got divorced, then remarried, and then divorced again. "Yeah, the American training system is brutal, too."

"My mate was a brilliant man. Also caring and compassionate, everything you'd want in a physician. But that was part of the problem. When bad things happened, he took it too much to heart."

I think all of us know someone like that. There are people who are able to distance themselves emotionally, and people who aren't. Those who can't distance themselves need to find an outlet, or they'll crash and burn. It didn't sound like Carson's roommate had found an outlet. "What happened to him?" I asked quietly.

"He drove his car off a cliff."

I'd expected something like that, but I still winced.

"I came home one morning to find the police and his mother looking around the flat. Guess they were trying to see if he'd left any indication of what he was planning." Carson took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "I'll never forget the look on his mum's face. She didn't say anything, but I know she blamed me for not realizing how distressed he really was. I had nightmares about that look for weeks. Then one day, I decided to get rid of the nightmares."

I didn't say anything, but waited for him to continue. Finally, "At first, my own physician had no problem with prescribing a tranquilizer. Who wouldn't be agitated after something like that? But eventually she wouldn't prescribe any more, so I... found other means."

"How did you stop?"

Carson gave a harsh laugh. "Fortunately, one of my attending physicians was a better doctor than I was and realized what was happening to me. He pulled me out of my training position and gave me two choices. Voluntarily go into rehab and keep my license or refuse, ruin my career, and possibly face criminal charges for drug theft."

"Not much of a choice, obviously."

"No. And it wasn't cold turkey, but it was close. So I'd like to think I can empathize with Rodney." As if in response, the physicist stirred and mumbled something incomprehensible. Carson smiled sadly and settled back to keep vigil over his friend.

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I wonder how much of that blame came from his roommate's mother and how much came from Carson's own tortured mind. Let's face it; our CMO wears his heart on his sleeve. Of course he would think others blamed him for missing clues about the suicide; he blamed himself, after all.

Does he blame himself for Rodney's condition now? I can't see how he logically could do that. Besides, if there is blame to be assigned, it probably belongs to all of us. Ever since Doranda, Rodney's been desperately trying to prove himself and regain everyone's trust. This must have seemed like a golden opportunity for him.

Do I still think I've seen it all? Not really. The trouble we get into, like blowing up a good chunk of local space-time, certainly continues to be unique. But on the other hand, the conflicts and motivations of the characters in the drama are pretty universal. People will always be searching for some type of redemption. And, as demonstrated here, people will do amazing things to earn it.