Episode Report Card Demian: A | 7 USERS: A+ YOU GRADE IT All Hell Breaks Loose
By Demian | Season 3 | Episode 22 | Aired on 2001.05.17
San Francisco Memorial. A gurney carrying the grievously injured Piper slams through a set of swinging doors. Prue asks one of the nurses for the whereabouts of Doctor Griffiths. At that moment, he hustles to one side of the gurney. He starts barking out orders for Piper’s vital statistics, and all of the sudden I’m recapping ER. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised if Luka popped in right about now with his scythe. Piper’s pulse is “seventy and weak.” They lift her from the gurney onto an operating table. She’s hyperventilating, her face has a greyish cast to it, and her lips are turning blue. Doctor Griffiths, by the way, justifies my earlier rant about Piper’s injuries when he confirms, “Small entry wound upper back, large exit wound lower abdomen.” Smelly Alice would have to have been hovering in mid-air above the first floor of the damn manor to pull that off. As Griffiths determines that Piper’s “lungs are failing” and calls out for a couple of units of blood, Prue again calls for Leo. Piper still has the presence of mind to pant out, “He can’t hear you. Something must have gone wrong.” Prue takes Piper’s bloodied hand in hers and leans in to whisper, “Don’t die on me.” Oh, man. This is rough. I mean it. Piper, struggling to breathe, softly whimpers, “Prue? I’m cold.” That sent chills up and down my spine as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt like I’d been slapped in the face when she delivered that line. Damn, she’s good. Prue’s composure -- fragile to begin with -- shatters. She wordlessly pleads with Griffiths to save her sister as sobs wrack her body. Piper, weakly gripping Prue’s hand, continues, “I can’t feel my legs.” She turns her head to beg of Prue, “Don’t go. I love you.” Piper slides down into cardiac arrest. The nurses wheel in a defibrillator as Prue backs away from the table in terror. She raises her hands -- stained with her sister’s blood -- to her face as Griffiths charges the paddles and shouts, “Clear!” Piper’s body jerks violently at the shock. They recharge the paddles for another try. Another violent jerk. Nothing. She’s gone. Griffiths mutters, “I’m sorry,” as Prue wails. Her face is now streaked with Piper’s blood as well. She moves to Piper’s side, keening, and gently draws her hand over Piper’s face to close her eyes. Prue’s sorrow turns briefly into rage. “Get out of here,” she snarls at the various medical personnel. “Go!” Griffiths is the last to leave the room, and he looks guilty as hell. Prue dissolves into strangled sobs. As the medical personnel shut the doors behind them, soldiers in full body armor moves in to block access to the room.