24 Hours (a.k.a. "The Longest Day")

First off, the biggest of all possible big love to Heathen, to whom I handed off the ER baton at the end of Season Seven. Her recaps of Seasons Eight and Nine never failed to crack me up and I couldn't have asked for a better writer to carry on my legacy (such as it is). Heathen, you're the greatest.

Second, this is the recap of the pilot. The various episode guides I consulted differed as to whether the pilot --which aired as a two-hour "movie" -- should be considered one two-hour episode, or two related episodes that happened to be aired back to back. The majority (including the official ER site from Warner Bros.) treated it as one, so I'm going to go by that, too. Also, I'm recapping it from a commercially available VHS tape that Sars bought for me, which -- since it doesn't include commercials -- would make it hard for me to guess where the halfway mark is, and where hour one of the broadcast version ended and hour two began.

Uh. It's been a while since I wrote a recap, so I am probably a little rusty, but I promise the whole thing won't be as boring as that last paragraph was.

The now familiar greenish background and synth music appear as "er" in copper-coloured Courier glides into the centre of the screen. Then we cut to a black screen, over which we hear the sound of gentle snoring. A door opens, illuminating the room; we get our first shot of Mark "Sisyphus" Greene, and a flattering shot it is not: he's lying on a bed, his feet in our faces, and the camera is unfortunately positioned right at crotch level, so that Mark's garbage is dead-centre in the frame. We see Lydia's silhouette on the wall and hear her voice as she calls Mark's name -- quietly at first, and then more sharply when he doesn't respond. Finally, he starts with a snort, and she tells him there's a patient for him. Cut to an overhead shot of Mark's head as he whines at her to make an intern take it; Lydia tells him the patient asked for Mark, and exposits that it's 5 AM. She looks completely unimpressed by his sleeping ass. Mark puts on his glasses -- which are similar to the National Health-style round-lensed specs he wore toward the end of the series, though these have black rims and make his head look less penis-like; I approve -- and asks again, "Can't the intern take it?" Lydia flatly replies, "It's Dr. Ross." Mark nods in a resigned, unsurprised way, and says he'll be right there. Lydia full-body whatevers out of the doorway. Mark groans, like, you'd think he'd have learned by now that a short, fitful, interrupted nap makes you sleepier afterward than if you hadn't slept at all.

As Mark saunters down the hall, stretching his arms, the credits start appearing unobtrusively in white text at the bottom of the screen, so I guess we aren't getting the Grand Mal Special that is the opening credits sequence. Tinny, vaguely bluesy music plays on a radio as Mark negotiates the hallway. The layout of the reception area looks different here than it does on the show now; instead of being a kind of island, with desks on all sides, it looks to be about half that size. Actually, the layout of the whole ER area looks different than it does now, possibly because they didn't want to go to the expense of building a great big set just for the pilot, in case the show didn't get picked up. Anyway. Doug "Confessions of a Dangerous Pout" Ross is leaning over the reception desk (such as it is), drunkenly rambling at Jerry; there's a wheelchair right behind him. Mark taps him on the shoulder. Doug turns, resting a hand on the handle of the wheelchair to steady himself, though it quickly starts to roll away from him. Mark holds Doug up as Doug asks whether he got Mark out of bed. When Mark tightly confirms that he did, Doug -- staring into space at nothing in particular as though he's blind -- opines that Mark is "a real friend" for getting out of bed to tend to him. (At this point, we also learn that this episode will include "Special Guest Star" Julianna Margulies.) Jerry tells Mark that Room Three is free, and Doug babbles, "Room Three is free! Three is free. Three for three!" Mark throws Doug's arm across Mark's shoulders and they wander off, at which time Doug decides to favour the ER with a rendition of "Danny Boy" while palming Mark's bald-ass head.

Doug and Mark stagger into Room Three, where a bad spiral permed Wendy futzes with an IV. Doug loudly tells Mark again that he appreciates Mark's ministrations, adding, "I'm a little under the weather." Mark tries to help him into bed, but Doug makes a show of feeling the bed with his palms and then climbing onto it, again behaving as though he's blind, but trying to prove that he's not incapacitated. Doug lies down and starts calling out drug orders for himself; Mark quietly tells Wendy to get him some aspirin. She takes off. Doug, chuckling, says, "So anyway, she says to me, she says, 'I didn't know that pediatricians could be so sexy.' And I said, 'Honey, you ain't seen nothin' yet.'" Mark the disgusted prig starts Doug's IV a little more aggressively than he might were he not so obviously jealous of Doug and Doug's confidence with the ladies and Doug's hair and Doug's smile and Doug's future movie career. Doug sits up a bit at the IV stick, and then tells Mark he needs a fast drip. Mark bitterly tells him to lie back and let Mark take care of it. As soon as Mark glances away, Doug is sitting bolt upright, expositorially murmuring, "How's your beautiful wife? How's Jennifer?" Mark dismissively says she's fine. "You two settle your problems?" Doug asks. Mark lies, "Yeah. Yeah. Everything's okay." Doug -- whose breath is probably a real treat right now -- leans closer and grins, "Hate to lose you in the ER, you know." Mark noncommittally tells him again to lie back. "I am!" croaks the still-sitting Doug. Then he lies back, tells Mark again how much he appreciates Mark's taking care of him, and apparently passes out. If Clooney were acting this scene opposite any other man, or woman, or mammal, it would be redolent with Ho- or HetYay! As it is, the unstoppable force of George Clooney's charisma is utterly foiled by the immovable object that is Anthony Edwards's milquetoastitude. Wendy comes back in and chirps that she has Doug's aspirin; Mark tells her to give him 2000 ccs on a fast drip. Wendy asks, "Does he always do this?" "Only on his nights off," Mark sniffs. We learn that this episode was written by Michael Crichton and directed by some nobody. Lydia wanders in; Mark tells her he's going back, and that she should wake him at 6:30. Lydia -- only a nurse, so she doesn't get the luxury of sleep -- has no response.

Back to the room in which we opened. The camera apparently hasn't moved, and Mark gets back into bed. Fortunately, the door glides shut and blocks out the light before we get another eyeful of Mark's...uh, pantsful. He moans a little. The door opens. Lydia wakes him up to ask if she can give a Mrs. Williston some Demerol. He says yes. She leaves. The door opens again. It's 6:30. Mark puts on his glasses and checks his watch. Mark, do you really think Lydia doesn't have anything better to do than fuck with you? Just get up.

The ER -- which was mostly dead at 5 AM -- is now bustling with activity: ringing phones, doctors and orderlies with charts, announcements on the PA, yada. Susan "Forbidden Fruit" Lewis strides past the camera toward Reception, greeting some dreadlocked dude she calls Timmy but who I totally don't recognize. The actor playing him must be the nobody director's cousin or something, because they waste a precious five seconds of screen time making him call Susan back and hand her a chart. What? Whatever.

Peter "The Stranger" Benton comes in the ambulance-bay doors (I guess? Like I said, everything looks different) just as a bundled-up Jerry heads out. Jerry greets him, and Benton warmly replies, "Hey, Jerry." What? Benton? Warm? Who? And he's GRINNING as he walks in. Obviously they hadn't yet decided to make Benton kind of a prick. As he walks in, we hear typical "action news!"-type music from the TV, and then an anchorman's voice narrating some exposition about a construction accident in the Loop. Behind Benton, that dude Timmy is on the phone at the desk, finding out how many casualties there were and when County should expect them. The anchorman says there were twelve injured and at least two dead. Benton turns away from the TV and heads for the desk. Timmy hangs up just as Carol "Suicide Brunette" Hathaway rolls up, looking about twelve years old; she's unfortunately clad in those baby-pink scrubs the nurses wore in the first season, underneath which she's also wearing one of those t-shirts with the polo collar but no button placket that just look pointless and stupid. I mean, the point of a polo shirt is that you can wear the buttons done up or undone, right? So the collar on the t-shirt without the buttons is...god, this beeyotch is eighty-eight minutes long and I'm writing about Carol's stupid t-shirt. Anyway, Benton ALSO greets Timmy very warmly; Timmy returns the greeting before turning to Carol and telling her to notify Trauma about the accident. Of the twelve injured, apparently seven are critical. Carol gets on the phone as Benton picks up a chart and wanders off, commenting, "It's a good day for us surgeons." So, he's already really ambitious -- just not a bastard yet. FYI.

Elsewhere, Mark is giving orders about Mrs. Williston, among others, to some guy. The guy looks very nervous, and keen, and is writing down Mark's orders in an itty bitty little notebook. Mark also tells Dr. Whatever to roust Doug from Room Three. Mark is about to move on to instructions about the patient in Nine when Benton rounds the corner. We can faintly hear sirens outside as Mark asks Benton, "Do you know what this is all about?" Benton, on his way to the elevators, tells Mark about the collapsed building, adding, "They're sending over a dozen hot ones." Mark asks who's on. "Just us," Benton replies. Mark pauses a moment, and then turns to Dr. Whatever and -- just as the Impending Trauma music starts to thrum on the soundtrack -- smoothly starts again: "Okay! Forget all that. Call Susan Lewis. Call the seventh and eighth floor -- tell them we need anybody they can spare. Why don't you do that now?" Mark cockishly hands poor Dr. Whatever the phone, and continues on his way.

At the totally different ambulance bay doors, two paramedics (neither of whom we've seen before) wheel in the first casualty. Timmy directs them to take the patient to Trauma Two; Carol, chart in hand, walks along beside the bed, asking the patient's name. Another victim comes in right afterward, and Timmy directs them to Room Three.

In the aforesaid Room Three, Doug wakes up.

Out in the hall, we get a dose of GurneyCam, as we roll along just behind the third victim's head on the way to Surgical One. (What? "Surgical"? What happened to Trauma, Exam, Curtain, and Suture? Oh, whatever.) Wendy asks GurneyCam's name; he tells her it's Edward Wilson. She asks his address, and he starts to give it but apparently loses consciousness in the process. Way to go, Wendy.

Benton and various anonymous others are waiting in Surgical One -- which looks like a trauma room, in case you were wondering. Paramedics and some gowned nobody hoist Mr. Wilson onto the bed and go to work. Mr. Wilson's eyes are open now, so I guess he didn't lose consciousness after all. Benton distractedly asks the patient, "How you doing, sir?" like, what's he going to say? "My day was going pretty well until, you know, that BUILDING FELL ON ME"? Benton half-assedly assures Mr. Wilson that he'll be fine. The camera swirls around all the action in the soon-to-be-trademark manner. Benton makes a crack about having to cut up Mr. Wilson's suit. Basically, Benton acts like a cowboy, all, "Call Orthopedic; tell them to come down here now -- this is their lucky day." Um, Peter? The patient is still conscious, so maybe you shouldn't be saying that he's in such bad shape he's going to thrill ORTHOPEDIC SURGEONS, okay? Benton, I guess, remembers that the broken body still has a person in it, so he tells Mr. Wilson, "Your hand is still attached -- not by much, but it's going to be okay." Mr. Wilson sort of squints and rolls his head back and forth, emoting as much as one can when one is in a neck collar after having had a building fall on one. Benton orders some tests, and then asks Mr. Wilson whether he can feel anything in his almost-severed hand. Mr. Wilson says that he can't. Benton promises that they will save his hand. Boy, I hope that cowboy surgeon isn't writing cheques his butt can't cash.

Back out in the general reception area, trauma cases are still rolling in. A team of anonymous personnel is using the paddles to shock some shirtless fat guy. Pan over to Mark, who is asking his patient -- a Mr. Jackson, whose shirt is open, exposing a big smear of blood on the left lower quadrant of his torso -- where it hurts. With some difficulty, Mr. Jackson says his chest hurts. Mark eventually determines that it hurts when Mr. Jackson inhales, but that he hasn't been coughing up blood. Mark is about to listen to Mr. Jackson's lungs when suddenly Susan appears, and she and Mark share A Look. What?

Presently, a paramedic calls Susan's attention away before she and Mark can start making out or something, and she (I guess) follows another patient somewhere. We pan over to...somewhere else, where Doug and Haleh are working on an old lady. Haleh is wearing an Anita Van Buren-looking wig instead of her usual short, neat Afro. Neither the old lady's head nor her neck hurts. Doug slides his hand under the patient's head and gently starts to sit her up, instructing her, "Now, what I want you to do --" Unfortunately, he can't complete the sentence because she pukes blood all over him. Doug isn't fazed in the slightest, and slowly lowers her back down, saying she should tell him if it hurts when she breathes. A very young-looking Haleh says she can't get the patient's blood pressure. Doug reels off a bunch of orders, concluding, "Get Dr. Benton in here. This is no place for a pediatrician."

Did someone say Benton? Oh, there he is, still in Surgical One, jargoning about Mr. Wilson to a bunch of people I assume are the orthopedic and vascular surgeons he'd called for before. The guy who seems to be in charge is a bald, bearded dude, and he sends Mr. Wilson upstairs for surgery. Benton asks whether Dr. Bald-Bearded can save the hand. Dr. Bald-Bearded says he thinks he can. Benton cocks, "Good. I told him you could, so he's counting on you." Dr. Bald-Bearded may be an excellent surgeon, but his talents do not lie in delivering clumsy dialogue; we learn this as he declaims, "Peter, you're a smart-ass. You'd love to do this case yourself, wouldn't you?" Benton declares, "Yeah. I'm ready, I'm strong -- yeah, I could do it." Without the slightest affect, Dr. Bald-Bearded replies, "You're a resident, Peter. You're years from a case like this." Benton's face falls. Dr. Bald-Bearded turns on his heel, leaving his thespianic career behind forever, I hope.

Susan, assisted by Wendy, examines Jeff Barr, a young dude in a green and black flannel and a quilted vest. In the course of the neurological exam, he tells Susan he's in "Cook County General," which the hospital rarely gets called in the course of the show. He also exposits that it's St. Patrick's Day. Susan checks his nose and neck and says he's fine; we can see he has a few small scratches on his face. Susan tells Wendy to get a facial x-ray for him. As Susan shines a light in Mr. Barr's eyes, he smooths, "You're beautiful, Doc." "Thank you," Susan replies flatly. "You married?" he asks. "No, I'm a doctor," she says. He starts to proposition her, but she grabs his chin and shines the light in his mouth before he can humiliate himself further. She kindly tells him, "Take it easy, Mr. Barr; you wouldn't want to fall on your face twice in one day."

Benton examines Old Lady Blood Puker. He appreciates some pain in her abdomen and tells someone to call the OR, though he doesn't say what might be wrong with her. She starts to crash. Oh, man, Malik looks like a fetus. They shock her.

Susan walks into an exam room, where two cops stand by the bed of a patient writhing in pain. Susan asks where the paramedics are. Getting no answer, she tells the cops to help her get the patient's clothes off. The cops exchange a "whatever" look. Susan's like, "Seriously, get his clothes off." The guy begs, "Give me something! I can't stand it!" Susan gently tells him she'll give him something for the pain and tells him to hold on. Carol hurries in, and Susan quietly tells her, "Notify the orthopods we have an open fracture." I love that word, "orthopod." It sounds like something astronauts would probe. Carol takes off again, Susan calling drug orders after her. Susan asks Open Fracture whether it hurts anywhere else. "My knee," he sobs. Doug appears in the doorway, offering to help; Susan tells Doug to check OF's knee.

Then there's a scene that exists for no reason except to show us that Benton is willing to keep working on Old Lady Blood Puker even though she seems like a hopeless case, and even though there are other patients stacked up waiting for his attention. Also, it sounds like Benton pronounces Haleh's name "HAIL-uh" at one point, but I could very well have heard that wrong. Anyway, Benton's a hero, I guess.

At the ambulance bay, Timmy's still directly traffic. He returns to the desk, where Carol hands him a chart and says, "Call Pathology: we've got a customer who isn't going to be charged services. The name's Canelli."

In chairs -- which looks so different that at first I think they're in a totally different building -- Mark calls out for relatives of Robert Canelli. A dude in the foreground of the shot puts up his hand and tells Mark he's Canelli's son. Anxiously, he starts to ask after his father, and Mark rather brusquely says, "Your father was in an accident today, Mr. Canelli -- you know that?" Canelli Jr. says he knows. Mark puts a hand on Canelli Jr.'s arm and tries to lead him somewhere more private, but Canelli Jr. doesn't want to wait: "No, just tell me. He's here, right? Just tell me!" Mark lowers his voice and, more gently, says, "Your father had a heart attack, and we were unable to revive him. I'm sorry." Mark goes to lay a comforting hand on Canelli Jr.'s shoulder, but Canelli Jr. angrily slaps it away, yelling, "Bastards! You bastards!" They scuffle a little until Canelli Jr. slams Mark into a vending machine. "You're sorry!" Canelli Jr. spits, and then starts sobbing. Mark puts a hand on the back of Canelli Jr.'s neck and steers him through the crowd.

Open Fracture is wheeled toward Surgery. Susan goes with the bed, leaving Doug and Carol loitering in the hall. "Any others?" Doug asks. Carol says, "No, that's it." Mark is around the corner, overhears, and repeats, "That's it?" "Yeah -- last two were DOA," Carol confirms, walking past him. "Well. That's it," Mark muses. He and Doug lean against opposite walls, waiting for a commercial break that never comes.

Lounge. Mark and Susan futz with files on either side of a desk while Benton reclines on the couch, reading a chart. Mark idly asks what happened to Doug; Benton smirks that he went to change, because someone threw up on him -- "that lady." Susan asks whether Benton is referring to the "lady" who "arrested" (though I would argue that anyone who would barf on Doug is no lady), and Benton confirms that it was she. Susan asks whether the puker pulled through; Benton, amid some jargon, says she did. Mark asks about the guy whose hand was almost cut off; Benton says that poor bastard's still in surgery. Benton abruptly gets up, strolls across the lounge, and asks if anyone wants a cup of coffee. Seriously: he offers coffee to people other than himself. I know you think that's a typo, but it isn't. Susan takes Benton up on his offer, and he asks how she takes her coffee. Susan dryly replies, "Same as yesterday, and the day before that." "And they call me a smart-ass," Benton shoots back. Uh. They do? NO THEY DON'T. Cheery Benton is still freaking me out, I have to say. Arriving at the coffee machine, Benton yelps, "Oh, dammit! The nurses have been in here raiding the coffee again. Why don't they just make their own?" He snaps that he's going to go talk to the nurses about their coffee-pilfering, and makes to leave, but Mark and Susan tell him, in unison, "Never mind." Benton regards them both a little suspiciously, but acquiesces, returning to the couch. Mark asks the room at large whether they aren't supposed to be getting some new students today, and Susan says she thinks so, and that she hopes they're good; the last two, apparently, sucked.

Carol marches into the lounge with a huge stack of charts, which she sets rather noisily on Mark and Susan's desk. Mark and Susan both start at her appearance, though it's not clear whether it's because of the way she slammed the charts on the desk, or because they're bracing themselves for Benton to tell her some shit about the coffee. Carol moves over to another table but, sensing the vibe in the room, innocently asks, "Something wrong?" Benton smarms, "Oh, you bet there is. We're out of coffee again because the nurses have been taking it: that's what's wrong." "Make some more," Carol shrugs. Oh, here we go, with the ExpoBenton: "'Make some more'? We work thirty-six hours on, eighteen off, which is ninety hours a week, fifty-two weeks a year. For that, we are paid $23,739 before taxes, and we also have to make the coffee?" Carol flippantly tells Benton, "My heart is breaking," and takes off. Benton: "Where are the filters?" Heh. Mark tells him they're in the fridge. I don't know. Just then, a voice comes on the intercom, informing Mark that his Vulcan wife is waiting for him in the cafeteria, which seems like kind of an abuse of hospital resources. Why can't Jen just come to the lounge and get him herself? Mark looks at his watch in surprise and then starts bumbling to collect himself, looking generally anxious. Susan looks mildly amused by his manner, and Mark tells her, before she can ask, "Everything's fine." Sure. Everything's always fine where Jen is concerned. Susan watches him go, looking...whatever.

Twenty minutes of shoe leather as Mark makes his way to the cafeteria.

Waiting in the cafeteria are Vulcan Jen and Original Rachel, who looks like a little tiny baby. Jen looks harried, Rachel looks neglected -- business as usual, in other words. Mark passive-aggressively disparages Jen's choice of breakfast for Rachel (grilled cheese sandwich -- and what's the problem with that? Shut up, Mark), and Jen passive-aggressively informs Mark that he's late. Mark starts making excuses about the trauma that came in, and ExpoRachel interrupts to tell Mark that Jen is reading about "tarts." Yeah right. If she were, that might make her a tiny bit interesting -- well, if they were "tarts" in the "and vicars" sense. "Torts," ExpoJen smilingly corrects her, before asking whether Mark is getting any sleep. Mark lies that he's okay. Jen tells him he looks tired; Rachel agrees. Mark takes the rest of her sandwich. Damn, that looks good. Jen exposits some more, to the effect that Dr. Harris's office called to confirm Mark's meeting. Around a mouthful of sandwich, Mark regretfully says, "Oh, geez. That's today." "You can still go, right?" Jen asks, looking like she's preparing to be pissed off. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess," Mark replies, unconvincingly. "You're not going to forget, or get too busy?" Jen needles. Yes, maybe he'll "forget" so much that he'll "accidentally" make an appointment with a lawyer to start the process of divorcing his annoying, naggy-ass wife instead. Mark curtly tells Jen he'll go. Jen grins. Mark asks what's so funny. Jen crabs, "You know you're gonna hate it." Then why are you making him go, and grinning about it? You both suck. Mark says maybe he won't hate it: "At least there, the patients don't throw up on you." Rachel is cutely aghast that anyone threw up. Jen sighs expositorially, "It's just that, between your hours and my studying, I feel like we never get to see each other anymore." Yeah, and your constant nagging and generally unpleasant personality has nothing to do with that, T'Jen. Mark, reassuringly: "I'll go meet Harris today, okay?" Jen, kittenishly: "I just hope you like it."

In the cafeteria, a doctor sleeps with his head on a table, and Susan and Mark have coffee. She asks, "How'd it go?" Mark exposits, "Well, you've been to Harris's office -- you know what it's like. It's like a nightclub or something!" If that's what he thinks nightclubs are like, he needs to get out more. Susan asks whether Harris offered Mark a job; Mark says he did, adding, "But I don't know....It doesn't seem like real medicine to me." Oh, why -- because it's fancy, you get paid well, and the perks fucking rule? I think it's possible to be a doctor without being a big ugly martyr about it, dicksmack. Though if it's martyring ye be after, I'd be happy to stone you myself. Susan asks what the problem is, then, and Mark says she knows. "Jennifer?" Susan guesses. Mark says that Jennifer is the problem. Duh, I'll say. Susan tells Mark that he can't live his life the way other people want him to. Well, actually, sometimes in a marriage you do have to compromise and do things you don't really want to for the greater good. Besides which, what Jen wants him to do is take a job with a kick-ass salary that will allow him more free time with the family, for whose sake he's supposed to be working at all. Yeah, Jen's the devil. I mean, it doesn't change the fact that she's generally kind of a bitch that she happens to be right in this case. Also, shut up, Susan. Mark, take the job and get off this show. Anyway, Mark agrees that Susan is right, even though she's not. Susan adds, "Especially a lawyer." Mark defensively says that Jen isn't a lawyer yet. Susan says he knows what she means: "It's gotta be your life." Mark whines, "It is, it's just...she just keeps talking about how she never sees me anymore." Susan chuckles, "Well, she probably never does. I never see Paul." Mark says he thought Susan and Paul broke up. Susan evasively says, "Well, we did, but...you know." Mark shakes his head and drawls, "Yeaaah." She's saying their friends who fuck, Mark, geez. Go to a "nightclub" sometime. Mark's pager goes off; he checks it and gets up, groaning. He ambles over to the phone and picks it up. Whatever it is is bad news, and he says, "Yeah, yeah, right away." He tells Susan they've got to go. She's all, "What?" but he doesn't say what the deal is.

Back in the ER, we see over Doug's shoulder that people are standing around in clusters, looking worried. Lydia passes by him and shoots him a brief, reproachful look. The camera wheels around to show us Doug's lovely face; he clenches his jaw, looking freaked out. Susan and Mark appear, and flank him. "Did you hear?" Doug asks huskily. Mark says they did: "She's on her way. It's incredible." Doug, all shattered: "I don't know how...this happened. To her, of all people." "I don't know," Mark offers, unhelpfully. Mark taps Doug briefly on the shoulder and moves toward the desk. As sirens outside get louder, Mark exhorts everyone to "break it up" and get back to work. Everyone kind of snaps out of it. An ambulance opens its doors and two paramedics pull a bed out of it. Mark shoves through a crowd of looky-loos, barking, "Come on, what do you expect to see?" He meets the incoming bed, yelling at everyone again to get back to work. Mark directs the paramedics into a room, and the camera finally pans down to show us that the patient is Carol. Doctors and nurses hurry in, and an unseen woman gasps, "Oh my God, it is Hathaway!"

After the non-commercial un-break, we fade up on the same shot of Carol's unconscious face as everyone buzzes around her. They lift her onto the bed; Mark calls for them to undress her. Mark, this is really neither the time nor the place. An anonymous nurse cuts Carol's jeans off her with a pair of scissors, while another gets a gown ready. I hope those weren't jeans Carol really liked. Maybe they were -- maybe she figured she'd die in her very favourite jeans, and then she's going to wake up and be all, "Not only am I a failure as a suicide, but my favourite jeans are ruined. Thanks a lot, Mark." From the doorway, Doug watches, looking heartbroken, but doesn't participate. Some people work, grimly and mostly silently; apparently every single other person who works in the ER -- including Jerry -- stands around watching. Mark asks the young blonde woman who accompanied Carol to the hospital whether she knows what Carol took; the woman sobs that Carol "just went into the medicine cabinet," adding, "We've got a lot of stuff around." Mark pointlessly repeats that Blondie -- Carol's roommate -- has no idea what Carol took, just to make Blondie feel especially helpless and useless. Nice job, Mark. Mark demands a drug screen on Carol right away, adding a drug order. Nurse Anonymous asks whether Mark wants to "pump her," and...again, not the time or place. Oh, she means, does Mark want to pump Carol's stomach? He does. Cut to Doug in the doorway, still looking breathless and sad. Mark tells Malik to call Neuro, and the nursing supervisor. He tersely asks Blondie whether she's called Carol's family; Blondie cries that she didn't know Carol's family: "We were only roommates three weeks." Lydia asks Blondie why Carol did it. Mark lectures, "It doesn't matter why she did it. We don't ask that about any other OD that comes through these doors; we don't ask it about this one." A call for someone to withhold judgment? A call that comes...from Mark? Now I've seen everything.

More bustling around. Susan leaves the room, which requires her to brush past the hangdog Doug in the doorway. As the pumping of Carol's stomach draws ever closer, Doug decides it's not appropriate for him to stay, and steps out into the hallway to collect himself, and continue watching the proceedings through the window. Pumping. Watching. Crying. Test-ordering. Mark gets a reading on...something or other. Not liking what he hears, I guess, he asks Blondie whether Carol'd had anything to drink. Blondie says Carol had a scotch. "More than one?" demands Mark. Blondie breaks down and says she might have. Mark notices all the busybodies loitering about and yells at them to get back to work. They seem to ignore him, per usual. Nurse Anonymous does that test (you know the one) on Carol's foot; Carol reacts, which is good. Jargon. Bustling. Standing around. Susan reappears at Mark's side to say that Morgenstern's on his way, and to tell him another of Carol's test results. Mark doesn't like what he hears: "Is that a mistake?" "Repeated twice," Susan tells him. Everyone continues to gawk. Mark finally gets the bright idea of closing the curtain (or rather, delegates that job to Malik), reproachfully yelling at everyone who isn't working on Carol that "this isn't a show." Well, not a good one, anyway. The curtain is pulled, leaving Blondie outside. Doug stares.

Some time later, I guess, Jerry answers the phone at the desk, and then tells a nearby nurse to call Benton: "We got a shotgun wound to the chest coming in." Yeesh.

And now, back to patients we only care about a little. The shotgun-to-the-chest guy staggers in; Benton and some other anonymous nurse help him onto a bed. They pull open his coat to reveal the blood splashed all over his -- conveniently, for the producers -- white t-shirt. Benton examines him for a second, and then exclaims that it's a knife wound, not a shotgun wound. Carter, peering gingerly over Benton's shoulder, evidently gets an eyeful of the wound (which -- again, strangely, considering how gory the show is now -- we at home do not) and excuses himself, quietly saying, "I feel ill." He takes off. Benton calls after him, "That's okay, I didn't need you anyway." He tells the nurse to notify the ER, and they move the bed, so we can see Mark framed in a doorway behind them, sitting at the desk. He gets up, looking thoughtful, and hands Jerry the chart he'd been holding. He puts on a green scrub gown and wanders off.

Time for another opening-credits shot! It's Carter, in profile, sitting in the ambulance bay, holding his stethoscope, either trying not to barf, or having just finished barfing. Cut to a needlessly "artsy" shot of a puddle, with the "Emergency" sign reflected in it, backwards and upside down, which we pan up from to see Mark striding very slowly toward Carter. Like Angel, only wussy. Wussier. "Feeling better?" Mark asks, once he's reached him. Carter says he is: "I'll be okay in a minute. It just got to me, all of a sudden." Mark nods, and tells him to keep his head down: "There's no rush. Just relax." Mark boringly observes that it's stopped raining. Carter gulps air and says, "I thought I was going to be sick. I'm sorry." Mark pontificates, as Carter studies him raptly: "Don't ever say you're sorry. See, there's [sic] two kinds of doctors: there's the kind that gets [sic] rid of their feelings, and the kind that keeps [sic] them. If you're going to keep your feelings, you're going to get sick from time to time. That's just how it works." Carter is still staring up at him in adoration, so Mark tells him again to keep his head down. (Which, if it were possible for Mark to create a homoerotic vibe with any of his male co-stars -- or any man, anywhere -- would be the inspiration for a riff on Carter doing something else with his head...down...but we've already established that Mark doesn't have that capacity, so let's move on.) Carter loosens his tie and looks down again. Mark sinks down into a squat, yammering on, "People come in here, and they're sick, and dying, and bleeding, and they need our help. And helping them is more important than how we feel." Carter nods. Mark adds, "But it's still a pain in the ass, sometimes." Carter chuckles faintly. Mark confides, "Sometimes, I just want to quit and do something else." Oh my God, DO IT. Mark: "Yeah." What? Carter stares at him moistly. Mark tells him to take a few more minutes. Carter nods. Hauling himself up, Mark adds, "By the way, I was in medical school with Benton." He was? Does that ever come up again? "He used to get sick all the time. So, don't let him give you any crap. You're going to be fine." Gee, coming from Marque, Queen of the Wussies, that means a lot, not. Carter grins gratefully, and fidgets with his stethoscope.

A basketball game is playing on the TV in the lounge when Benton strolls in, whistling. He settles down at a table in front of it with his chart and a cup of coffee. Carter meekly enters and glances at the TV. He then looks at Benton, expectantly. Benton looks back at him, but says nothing. Carter raises his eyebrows slightly and rocks on his heels, as if to say, "So that's how it's going to be." Yes, Carter, Benton is a bitch, like everyone else who works at this hospital is now, and like you'll be in juuuuust a few years. Carter glances back at the TV and then jerks a thumb at it, asking Benton what the score is. "DePaul is down," Benton tells him curtly, before conciliating, "You okay?" Carter firmly says that he is. Benton mutters, "Good. Don't worry about what happened out there. Just don't make a habit of it." Carter smiles, "Okay." He wanders out, looking either amused or relieved. Once he's gone, Benton smiles and sort of snorts to himself.

Carol's still unconscious, and connected to a bunch of machines. Doug holds a vigil several feet away from her bedside -- close enough to see if anything happens, but not so close as to be inappropriate. After a moment, he turns away from her. Oh, Doug. Would that I could make you feel better. Like, say, by Frenching you. Unfortunately, I'm married, and you're fictional.

Elsewhere, Susan is briefing a besuited lady (the nursing supervisor, I would guess) about Carol's condition: "She's been on dialysis for three hours. She's still comatose and unresponsive. She must have taken short-acting agents. She knew exactly what she was doing." Suit Lady asks whether Carol's family has been notified; Susan's not sure, but she thinks so. Suit Lady asks whether Carol is fully covered on "hospital policy"; she is, as far as Susan knows. Suit Lady asks whether anyone's spoken to the press office. Susan shoots Suit Lady a look like she just took a dump in Susan's handbag, and Suit Lady scoffs, "Let's face it, this is bad publicity. Some damn TV network will get a hold of it and try to make a sentimental movie about her." Huh, I'm kind of surprised that "sentimental" -- used in a context that negative -- actually made it past the censors on a Steven Spielberg production. Susan has no comment, so Suit Lady asks whether anyone knows why Carol "did it." Susan says, "No one has any idea. Her fianc didn't know anything either. Supposed to get married in June." Oh, yes. Yes -- they are "supposed to." Jeepers, I sure hope nothing goes wrong there, either. Suit Lady leaves. Susan stands by, looking dopey.

Carter rolls up to some patients' holding pen and asks who's . A young blonde in a low-cut black French maid's costume says she is; she's holding a gauze pad over a cut on her right forearm. She steps forward and clomps past Carter; he gets an eyeful of her booty (or, as the French say, "son butin") as she passes. Carter's young and horny. Check.

Mark treats a sort of doughy-looking middle-aged guy who has what appears to be abdominal pain. As he sifts through what look to be a pile of phone messages Lydia's just handed him, Mark tells Mr. Lawkowski, his patient, "I'm going to admit you to the hospital and start you on a medical regimen. There's some question in my mind as to whether that's necessary, but I think it's better to be safe than sorry." By this point, Mark has walked into the foreground of the shot, so he's between the camera and Mr. Lawkowski when the latter starts crying. Mark turns quizzically at the sound, and Mr. Lawkowski sobs, "I know the truth. You don't have to hide it from me." Mark's all, "Guh?" and Mr. Lawkowski presses, "I know you're being nice to me, but you can tell me. It's okay, I want to know the truth." Mark blandly -- and a little contemptuously -- informs Mr. Lawkowski, "You have a duodenal ulcer with complicating pancreatitis -- rather mild pancreatitis, judging from the lab figures. That's all you have." Mr. Lawkowski breathes, "Come on, you can tell me, please." Mark gets all pissy as he insists, "You don't have cancer, Mr. Lawkowski." Mr. Lawkowski loses it and whimpers, "Geez! I knew it, I knew it! It's cancer! And you were hiding it!" He sobs some more. Mark tries to muster up some human compassion as he lectures, "Mr. Lawkowski, every person that comes into this hospital -- whether they [sic] have a heart attack or a skin rash -- everybody's worried about cancer. You do not have cancer, I swear to you. You. Do not. Have. Cancer." Mr. Lawkowski snorts up a big gob of snot and hopefully asks, "It's not cancer?" "No," Mark assures him. "You have an ulcer, which flared up today because you went to a party and drank and smoked, both of which you're going to have to quit." Mr. Lawkowski takes a deep breath and repeats, "Quit smoking and drinking?" Mark says that's right. Mr. Lawkowski, mad now, barks, "Quit smoking and drinking? What are you, kidding me?" Wah-wah. You know, I really feel the point has been made that many patients in the ER are annoying weirdos. Did this episode really have to be two hours long? REALLY?

A rather small baby is thrashing about on a bed, getting examined by Doug (assisted by Conni). He has a big old scrape on his knee, like he skinned it; several bruises on his torso and legs, and what looks like a cut over his left eye. He's crying lustily, and sounds like he has a cough. Oh, that's right. This is the obligatory child-abuse case, not the one with the key-swallower. My bad. Let's pretend that the actor who played Mrs. Jimmy prepared for the part by coming up with some big backstory about how she secretly abused him and he got back at her by swallowing her apartment key, okay? Could be true. Anyway. This baby looks like ten miles of bad road. A young woman is standing by while Doug performs the examination, looking worried. I don't want to jump to any conclusions (since I was wrong last time), but since the baby is white and the woman is black, I'm going to guess she's his babysitter or nanny. Anyway. Doug looks grim. In a rather flippant tone that suggests he thinks Nanny did all this to him, Doug tells Conni that they'll have to get some x-rays on Beat-Up Baby. He asks Nanny how this happened. Nanny very quietly says that Beat-Up Baby fell out of his crib. Doug skeptically repeats, "He fell out of his crib?" Nanny elaborates, "He was crying all night, so I brought him here." Doug bitchily says, "I'll bet he's been crying. When did he fall?" Nanny says, "I don't know. I don't want to get into trouble!" Doug clips, "Ma'am, your son has multiple contusions --" "He's not my son," Nanny interrupts. Yeah, Doug, duh, I figured that out ten lines ago. Doug snaps, "Whatever! Whatever your relationship --" "I'm his babysitter!" Nanny squeaks. Doug considers this and then quietly says, "This child has been beaten." Nanny nods. "I'm going to call Children and Family Services," Doug tells her, walking out. "Please!" "It's the law," Doug grits. "But I'll get into trouble!" Nanny protests. Doug tells Conni to stay there. Oh, Doug. I hate to say you're wrong when you look so right.

A girl walks in with her skirt hiked up. Way up. Like, high enough that we can see that her inner thighs are rubbed all raw and red. She looks around purposefully and then strides forward. Jerry spots her and, evidently recognizing her, turns to Mark and asks if Mark wants to "make a guess on the diagnosis of this one?" Cut back to the girl. (She's played by Liz Vassey, so I was just going to call her "Liz," but then I went to the IMDb to make sure I had the spelling of her name right and I see that her character is actually called Liz, so...uh, now I'm especially going to call her that.) Anyway, she walks toward Mark and Jerry, using the hem of her skirt to sort of fan at her thighs. She looks frankly at Jerry and Mark and then informs them simply, "I burned my legs." Jerry glances down at her extended crotch area and calmly replies, "I see." Hee hee. Mark snatches the x-ray Jerry's been holding and throws it up on a light box as Liz snits at Jerry, "It's not funny." She's right; it's lame. Jerry gallantly says he'll get her set up.

Back downstairs, Mark treats a woman who seems to be hyperventilating. He orders a bunch of drugs and tests and asks the patient, "Do you take digitalis, dear?" Okay, seriously, what's with the docs calling women much older than themselves "dear"? I don't even like old people to call me dear, so if I were old -- and it's hard to tell how old this patient may be, since she has an oxygen mask covering most of her face, but if she's old enough to have heart problems that require her to take digitalis, she's probably at least in her forties -- and some punk-ass clown like Mark called me "dear," I'd poke him in the eye. Anyway. She seems to shake her head no to the digitalis question, but I guess she must have said she does, because he then asks her whether she took any today, and when. It seems as though she took it this morning, so Mark calls out for someone to "add a dig. level." There are more drug orders, and then, in the brief moment of stillness, Mark glances around and smiles to himself, "I can't give this up." Digitalis looks alarmed, and Mark notices her and quickly assures her that she's fine. Lydia shows up to say that Jen is on the line for him. Mark gets back to work on Digitalis, telling Lydia he'll have to call Jen back.

OR. Things gurgle. Everyone waits for Morgenstern. It's 2:29 AM. Benton starts to make some stupid, sarcastic speech, but is fortunately interrupted when Morgenstern enters, telling Benton to give him the background. Benton gives him Mr. Harvey's medical backstory, concluding with the ruptured aneurysm. Morgenstern takes a gander: "So you decided to open him up. That's one of the ugliest incisions I've seen in a long time. A good veterinarian would do a better skin cut than that." Morgenstern takes over; Benton steps back, and then makes for the door, sighing. He also whips off his little scrub cap and mask while he's still in the OR, so if Mr. Harvey gets sepsis because the field's been contaminated, we know whom to blame. When Benton reaches the door, Morgenstern tells him, "You did a good job. You were lucky as hell, but you were right to open him up. Good work." And, as soon as it started, the "attaboy" moment is over, and Morgenstern is back to work. Benton smiles, and walks into the hall, where we get the opening-credits shot of him making the "booyah!" motion. That's nice and all, but shut up, Benton. I like him so much better all taciturn and morose than I do when he's chipper and making stupid jokes.

Downstairs, we're back to Beaten-Up Baby, whose mother has, by now, arrived. Okay, in my own defense, I think it's understandable that I confused this child-abuse mom with the one whose kid swallowed her key; they're both professionally attired, with weirdly long, luxurious hair (weird, given that they're otherwise all businessy) and gigantic lips. Anyway, Beaten-Up Baby is squalling as several nurses attend him, and Mrs. Beaten-Up briefly tries to coo at him to calm him before bitching at Doug, when he enters, for not giving Beaten-Up Baby something to stop him from crying. Doug examines Beaten-Up Baby, saying nothing. Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby bitches, "Look! He's still crying! Why aren't you giving him something?" Doug, judgmentally failing to meet her eye, curtly explains, "I can't give him anything until I know the extent of his injuries. He's been to X-Ray, so we know that he has a skull fracture." "A skull fracture!" exclaims Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby. To her totally whipped-looking male companion, she spits, "The babysitter! I never trusted her." Nice try, lady, but Doug sees straight through your snooty faade and right into your black, black heart: "Ma'am, your child has multiple contusions that are at least twelve hours old. He has a skull fracture. He also has several old, healed fractures. He is a battered child." Mmmm. Battered child. So yummy with french fries, the English way. Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby snorts, "Oh. I'm not even going to respond to that. You think I'd harm my child?" "Happens all the time," Doug clips. Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby -- getting flustered now, because she can tell the jig is up -- snaps that if Doug isn't going to treat Beaten-Up Baby, she's going to take him home. Doug declares, "No you're not." To Mr. Beaten-Up Baby, Doug barks, "Do you have anything to say?" Mr. Beaten-Up Baby is seriously such a caricature of a cowed man that he might as well be dressed up in Amos Hart's hobo costume. "He's my date!" Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby yells. Mr. Beaten-Up Baby shrugs, all, "Hey, I'm just waiting for her to turn my back so I can run away." One of the nurses picks up Beaten-Up Baby and joggles him a little, and he instantly stops crying -- for a few seconds, anyway.

Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby changes tactics, more gently saying, "Look, I can assure you, whoever you are --" "Ross. Dr. Ross," Doug tells her, like that's supposed to mean something to her. Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby continues, "Well, Dr. Ross, let me tell you, your concerns are unfounded, okay?" Doug barrels forward: "How'd he burn his legs?" Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby's all, "What?" Doug shows her: "These marks, right here on his legs -- those. Those are healed burn scars. How did that happen?" Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby stammers, "He...I...I don't know anything about burns on the legs. I'm beginning to think you're making this up, is what I'm thinking." Um. Nice one? Geez, most child abusers are better at covering their tracks. Doug tells Mrs. Beaten-Up Baby that she may want to call an attorney. "I am an attorney!" she yelps. Oh, BOOOOOO! Boo, we hate lawyers, right? First that mean Jen trying to make Mark take a job he doesn't want, and now this one, setting her kid on fire! They only care about making money and throwing their babies down flights of stairs! Boo! They're evil! Doug is not impressed: "Then I'm sure you'll know how the Department of Child Services will handle this." He starts to storm out, but she stomps around the bed yelling, "How dare you speak to me this way?!" Aggressive Pointing Finger of Judgment in full effect, Doug yells back, "How dare you treat your child like this? He's a little kid! I try to be understanding in my job, but lady, this just stinks." He sort of catches himself, as if he was about to spit in her face and then decided not to, and walks out, past poor Mr. Beaten-Up Baby, who really didn't bargain for all this when he asked that lady at his firm with the big hair and enormous, scary lips out for a steak.

Doug stomps through the hall. Spotting Tracy, he asks whether she found some patient's chart. Looking harried, she tells him she didn't. "Well, find it!" Doug tells her, more firmly. Tracy stupidly repeats, "Well, I don't know where it is." Doug barks, "Do you think that I am deaf? I heard you! Now find me the chart!" Throwing up her hands, Tracy squeals, "I don't know where it is!" and scurries off. Doug wanders away. Nanny spots him and runs up, asking, "Is it okay?" "It"? Doug quietly tells her that she can go home now, and that she did the right thing. Nanny explains, "I mean, is the baby okay?" If that's what you meant, why'd you say "it," fool? Doug musters his last ounce of strength to smile, and tell Nanny that Beaten-Up Baby will be okay. He walks off. Nanny looks after him adoringly (of course).

In the lounge, Susan exhaustedly pulls her head out of the fridge. She then goes to the coffee maker and picks up the pot, which she somehow didn't notice was empty until she had pulled it into the shot. "Oh, man," she moans. Oh, coffee hijinx. Benton strolls in and asks how Carol is. Susan says, "It doesn't look good." Benton asks whether "they" contacted Carol's family, and Susan says "they" found them. As she makes coffee, Susan asks how Benton's aortic aneurysm went. Benton says that Morgenstern showed up. A voice on the PA calls Benton to Trauma One.

Mark is in the hall when a cop comes in, carrying some other guy on his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Mark gets a bed ready for the cop to set the guy down, and asks what the deal is. The cop says that the patient was standing, blocking traffic. Mark looks at the patient -- an elderly man -- for a second. The cop adds, "But he's got that smell, so I thought I'd check." Mark says the cop did the right thing: the patient has suffered diabetic ketoacidosis, and the cop probably saved his life. They wheel him off, leaving the cop standing with Jerry. The cop looks chuffed at his great save, and Jerry snorts, "What do you want, a medal?" Heh. Jerry takes off, as the cop's face falls.

Mark treats Diabetes, and then leaves the room. In the doorway, Conni reproachfully asks whether he got the message that Jen called. Mark says that he didn't. But...he did! Whatever. Mark checks his watch, and says he'll call her in the morning.

Benton comes into a recovery room and greets Mrs. Harvey, who's sitting by her husband's bedside. He checks on Mr. Harvey, and then tells her that he seems to be doing fine. Mrs. Harvey effuses, "Oh, I'm so grateful. Dr. Morgenstern came so quickly! He saved his life!" Benton modestly agrees that Morgenstern is a great surgeon. Mrs. Harvey adds, "He said you did a lot too." Benton even more modestly lies that he just helped out a little bit. He makes to go, and runs right into Morgenstern in the doorway. They share an inscrutable look (inscrutable mostly because they're in near-total darkness), and go their separate ways.

Tracy is standing picturesquely in the doorway. Doug strolls out and joins her. He apologizes for yelling at her. She blinks, and offers him some coffee. He agrees. Problem solved? I guess?

Carter yawns as he stitches around a drunk patient's bad toupee.

Susan works by a lamp at the desk in the lounge. As she slowly leans her head down on her arms on the desktop, we hear the radio broadcast she's listening to, on which some (we're to think) crank woman is bitching about how doctors "get off" charging what they do. Yes, yes, we get it. Doctors are underpaid saints, and lawyers are soulless vampires. The cranky radio lady thinks doctors should be ashamed of themselves. Whatever.

Benton wanders up to the desk and asks Jerry, "That's it? Anybody else?" Jerry starts bitching about a sore throat, and Benton smirks, "You need to see a doctor." As he walks off, he asks, "Which room?" presumably going to catch a nap. Jerry tells him that 5 and 6 are open. "Five," Benton calls back. Carter appears, and sinks gratefully into a chair. After a moment, he stretches out across all three of the molded-plastic chairs on the unit. Ow. That's probably less comfortable than sleeping upright. Mark comes in behind Jerry, who bitches about his throat again. Mark says he'll be in Room 8. He picks up a novelty shamrock decoration off the desk, asks Lydia for a pen (which she supplies), and asks her to wake him at 6:30. Lydia exposits that he's lucky: "That gives you almost an hour and a half."

Down the hall. Mark sticks the shamrock on the door, with a piece of tape that has "WAKE AT 6:30" written on it. In the room, he settles onto the bed, sighing gratefully. Fade to black. One second later, Lydia appears: "6:30, Dr. Greene." Mark sits up, puts his glasses back on, and checks his watch. "Wow," he groans. Yeah. NO KIDDING. ER: The "E" is for ENDLESS.