"Rodney? What's going on?" Carson asked, seeing the scientist intoxicated and loosely grasping a half empty scotch bottle. Rodney slowly looked up to meet the scot's blue eyes.

"Hey, Carssss'n" Rodney slurred. Carson chose to sit down beside him.

"Rodney, love… why?"

Rodney looked incredibly sad, the alcohol removing his façade to reveal the emotions as he was feeling them.
"Becausssse I want to." Rodney responded. He went to drink again from the bottle, but Carson stopped him by grabbing the hand that held the bottle. He tried to gently remove said bottle from Rodney, but the scientist kept his grip.
"You've had plenty, Rodney. Now give me the bottle."

Rodney pouted, but released his grip. Carson took it quickly, and put it on his other side out of Rodney's reach.

"This happened when you got back from Doranda… did something else happen today?"

Rodney's sullen eyes, which looked half glazed over, continued to stare right into Carson's. The doctor in Carson was worried medically for Rodney, since he seemed to be unable to focus on what was being said to him. But he wanted to be a supportive boyfriend first, and then the caring doctor.

"Sssomethin' did." Rodney uttered. He was torn between being open and honest now with Carson, or keeping it in and finding another time to bring it up. Not realising he was talking aloud, Rodney considered the options.

"On the one hand, I … I could ssay it now, but later…later I gotta brin' it up again 'n I no wanna do that causssse that'sss awkward. But ssayin' it now wouldn't be sso good either, cause I'd get'n trouble with Carsss'n."

Carson's interest peaked at the idea that something happened that he would scold Rodney for, but it concerned him that Rodney was talking as if he wasn't here… like he was thinking, but not realising it was vocally. He began to wonder how much of the bottle Rodney had actually drunk, hoping it wasn't full when he started.

"You can tell me, Rodney."

"Noo, I HAVE to tell you, cause if… if I don't, then Zzzzelenka will. Either way, isss all over."

"What's over?"
"Thiss…everything. My life." Rodney snapped, annoyed, and threw his arms out to make the point.

Carson was growing concerned. Rodney had confided in him the feeling of wishing he wasn't alive anymore last time he'd gotten drunk. Now it was sounding like suicide was getting more of a serious possibility.

"Rodney, are you telling me you are going to die when you tell me what happened?"
"Noo, no tha's ssilly. I'm not gonna die righ' now. I gotta tell you though the thing though." Rodney responded, much to Carson's relief.

"Then what do you mean by your life ending?"

Rodney sighed and looked up at the lights of the city.

"This." He said, waving his hands up to the buildings before him. "Atlantis. I don't wanna be sent away. This my home, this where my life isss. When you know the sssecret, you'll all get rid of me."

Rodney slumped into himself and hid his face with his hands. Carson was still rather confused, but at least Rodney having done something, like a mistake, that would make him think the team would ship him away was better than Rodney going to commit suicide.

"I promise I'll do everything in my power to not let anyone send you away." Carson spoke softly. Rodney looked pained, but then sighed.

"Alright." He sighed, and then pulled his sleeve up.

Even in the dim light Carson could see a multitude of cuts atop of Rodney's forearm, most running horizontal but some scattered in different directions which made the overall impression appear very chaotic.
"Good lord." Carson uttered to himself. He'd had no idea. He inspected closer, and could see some were recent but some were quite old… which stabbed him in the gut with guilt. This had been happening for quite a while, and he had been oblivious. Why hadn't Rodney come to him? Did Rodney just not trust him enough?

While Carson sat there in shock, Rodney started to cry. Carson pulled him close and held him, stroking his back. Everything just seemed to be falling apart around him, and being a doctor, he wanted to fix it all. He really didn't know what to do now, however. Self harm, especially to this degree, was rather serious. He couldn't keep this between themselves anymore. Rodney would hate it, and his fears of being shipped away were actually rather founded. Carson maintained, though, that Atlantis was still the best place for him. Carson took a deep breath to strengthen his resolve. Right now, he needed to help Rodney. And that meant all the feelings of guilt stirring up inside him had to be put aside.

"Come on Rodney, I need to take you to the infirmary."

"Wha? No no no no no no, I don't wanna go. I wanna stay here. The people there… no, I gotta ssstay here away from them."

"No Rodney. You have to do as you're told right now. I'm going to take care of you." Carson stated, and began to help Rodney to his feet while standing himself. Rodney didn't have much fight left in him, and so followed Carson out of his quarters and to the infirmary.

The medical staff asked many questions, all of which Carson ignored. He put Rodney in a bed close to his office, put in an IV drip, and grabbed some kit and a seat beside Rodney to look over his arm. Rodney uttered things under his breath, not really aware of what was happening to him. Carson didn't respond to him either. He was too overwhelmed to respond correctly. Instead, he focused entirely on his job; the simple task of cleaning Rodney's wounds. They weren't serious in themselves compared with the things he had to deal with often; only a few of the recent ones were significantly deep. Still, he swabbed them with disinfectant, some blood smearing over the gauze from the ones that had only just sealed shut. Carson knew that they would probably be fine to leave open to heal, but deep down he didn't really want to look at them… and so he bandaged up practically all of Rodney's forearm.

By the time he'd finished, Rodney had fallen asleep.

"You daft bugger. Why couldn't you just talk to me?" Carson whispered to the still form. He patted his boyfriend a few times on the shoulder, and then left to fill out the paperwork. He knew he should really go to sleep himself… no doubt the morning would prove challenging for them both. He sighed to himself, and them went to inform the doctor in charge of the night shift.