Previously on ER, Chen and Malucci misdiagnosed Paul, a patient, and that mistake led to his death. Weaver reamed them, at which time Malucci points out that they paged her three times during the ordeal. Weaver fired Malucci, in part because she needs a scapegoat and partly, we suspect, because she took umbrage with his attitude (and the fact that she caught him humping a medic in an ambulance). Luka and Abby broke up. And, many, many moons ago, Weaver and Mark complained that Dr. Susan Lewis was leaving the hospital. As her train pulled away from the station, Susan leaned out and waved farewell to her would-be boyfriend, Mark Greene. "Goodbye," she called. And a nation wept. Except me, because although she's a good actress, I never thought she deserved to be deified, as she has been by so many critics and fans. But hey, I'm open-minded. And the show needs a jolt.
A train pulls slowly into the station and stops. Sherry "David Caruso" Stringfield's blonde head pokes out of the train and peers down its length, looking to see if her career is waiting right where she left it. This is the heralded return of Susan Lewis, motoring back onto screens in a symbolic reversal of the scene in which she left. Susan pauses long enough to really irritate the people behind her, then hops off the train and almost runs into a reunited couple making out on the platform. Dazed, she roams the street, refusing to give change to a homeless man and almost walking into a cyclist. The whole time, Susan looks awed and confused by her surroundings. Is she Crocodile Dundee? Where has she been, East Podunk?
Approaching the hospital with an air of trepidation, Susan watches as Dr. Cleo "Susan's Already Had More Screen Time Than I've Had All Season" Finch spars with a paramedic who brought in an "unconscious" man. "That's rigor mortis and lividity!" Cleo corrects, exasperated. The medic tries to leave the body with her, but Cleo insists they take it to the morgue. Susan stares, beginning to realize you truly can't come home again, because inevitably, some of your family has fled to go make movies or sing backup with Tina Turner.
Inside, Frank is refusing service to a flasher: "Let me know when you start paying taxes and wearing clothes." Another unknown-to-Susan, Abby "Have They Rescheduled The Emmys Yet?" Lockhart, hands out medication to a family and appears slightly harried. Susan politely asks where Mark might be. "Talk to the clerk," Abby dismisses her. Frank motors behind the reception desk, tailed by a young punk who's been waiting forever to get a boil removed and doesn't think a two-minute procedure should require an entire day of sitting. Frank figures this kid should fuck off, except he's marginally more polite than I. Susan quizzes Frank on Mark's whereabouts. "Fill this out, then come back here," Frank says, handing Susan a form. Grinning, but not without a tinge of a sneer at being mistaken for a patient, Susan explains that she is Mark's lunch date. "Chairs are thataway," Frank points, not impressed. Susan makes him promise to alert Mark to her presence. "You might want to know my name," she offers, backing away -- and right into Dr. Luka "Hot Hot Hot" Kovac. Again, Susan begs for help locating Mark, but Luka is preoccupied and barks an order to Yosh. "[Mark is] a friend of mine," Susan explains, hoping this will give her some credibility, when in fact it should lead to her permanent exile. Luka waves her off with a "hang on," and whirls right into reception, where he encounters Abby. "Have you still not forgiven me?" she asks. "My angelfish died," he replies. I can't relate to this. He had it for two weeks, it never knew him, and didn't fetch the paper or pee in his slippers or snuggle with him on the couch. He won't miss the slippery bastards. Anyway, Abby promises to buy him another. "I had two," Luka notes. "I'll buy you three," Abby bargains.
Still not content to sit patiently, and evidently having forgotten the hospital floor plan, Susan grabs Yosh and asks about Mark. Again, she's directed to Frank, who is screaming, "Go ahead, call the Mayor! Shut us down for all I care!" Finally, someone calls out, "Dr. Lewis!" Susan turns expectantly, but alas, it's no one familiar. A tall, dark man in an electrician's jumpsuit hurries over to her and introduces himself as Ralph Binks. Susan doesn't recognize him, though, so he explains that he once took a 20-amp current in his ass while working in the hospital basement. Panning behind him, we see a white sock stuck to his back. "You treated me -- said I would be just fine," he barks. "Well, I wasn't. My life has been a living hell of static cling since then!" Susan stares at him, flummoxed, convinced she'll end up on Oprah for this. Ralph storms away. "Thanks, Doc. Thanks for nothing," he yells.
Suddenly, another voice rasps, "Bet I know what you came here for!" Whirling around, Susan sees The Flasher open his trenchcoat and bare limp man-boobs, a hairy pot-belly, and a crotch we don't see thanks to an extra's well-placed noggin. I wonder if this is a meta-statement about the possibility that Susan is really returning to Chicago for a chance to run free through Greener pastures. Tired of all this, Susan gazes at him for a second and then says disdainfully, "Is that it?" Yes, Susan. It really is.
After the credits, we see that Susan has finally hooked up with the core group of nurses. They're telling her all about how Carol disappeared -- she got on a plane, sent for the twins the day, and never contacted her old ER buddies again. She didn't? That's really, really lousy. "Dr. Kovac don't [sic] know what happened," Haleh sighs, shaking her head. Um, I'm sure he can take a guess. Susan doesn't know who Dr. Kovac is. "Tall, hunky guy, dark hair," winks Lydia. "Can't miss him." Haleh intones, "Don't want to!" Hee! Haleh rules. Suddenly, Weaver shrilly yells that someone must move Mr. Schnack "before we have to hold the wake ourselves." She's trucking down the hall. Susan takes one look at Weaver and gasps, alarmed. "She's still here?" Susan whispers, appalled. "Even worse, she's in charge," replies Haleh. As she reaches Reception, Weaver scolds the hens for clucking when they should be laying eggs. "We have patients breaking the eight-hour mark," Weaver notes, pointedly. Glum, they disperse, but not before bidding Susan a friendly farewell.
Grabbing her purse, Susan blatantly tries to make a getaway. Weaver glances up, then double-takes when she realizes that someone in the ER has a worse hairdo than she. Seriously, Susan's hair is all styled and blunt-cut in the front, but dead flat in the back, creating the effect of severe and unfortunate bedhead. "Susan?" Weaver asks, smiling. Susan fakes enthusiasm and explains that she's interviewing in Chicago, and planned to lunch with Mark. "He's in with a bad GSW," Weaver explains. They small-talk that Susan is interviewing for staff positions at Rush, Northwestern, and some private hospitals. Kerry thinks a minute, then snaps back into business mode and curtly clips, "Well, good luck with that." They exchange polite farewells. "Welcome back," Kerry calls as she bolts away. "Sort of," Susan says under her breath, accompanied by a mild eye-roll. Frank then kicks her out of Reception, because he is the master of that domain.
Inside a trauma room, Mark and Dr. Elizabeth "%$@!@#!" Corday hack away at a very bloody patient. "Chest cavity's filed with clot," Elizabeth shouts. They're covered in goo. Susan peers through the window and decides that what Mark really needs right now is an erection, so she knocks and waves with a warm smile. Bing! Mark's head pops up -- the one with his face on it, thankfully. "Who's that?" Elizabeth demands. "Susan Lewis," Mark answers. "Your friend from Scottsdale?" she asks, pointedly. "Phoenix," Mark corrects her, trying to be blasé. "It says Scottsdale on the phone bill," Elizabeth grumbles. So evidently, Mark has been calling Susan, and Elizabeth hadn't -- until now -- let on that she was paying close attention. Another completely manufactured point of tension, a chewy piece of revisionism to fuel Elizabeth's fury. Okay, let's say it's true -- wouldn't Susan therefore already know about Carol fleeing town to find Doug? Mark probably would've told her while they rehashed old times, especially given how close he became with Carol. Bah. Humbug. Elizabeth continues working as Chuny lauds, "[Susan] looks great, doesn't she?" Mark darts a look at Elizabeth, who pauses and glares at him. "Pericardium's tense with blood," Mark offers, reminding everyone that the blood-soaked slab of meat on the metal table is not, in fact, tonight's dinner, but a breathing patient. Elizabeth would rather know why Susan has inconsiderately chosen to reinvade her husband's life. Mark tries to be flip about their lunch date, but Elizabeth instantly calls him on the fact that he never mentioned it to her. Susan signals that she'll wait in the lobby for him, and disappears from view. "That's a big bleeder underneath," Mark says, again trying to sound relevant to the surgery at hand. He acts innocent about his omission and carefully keeps from meeting his wife's eye, but Elizabeth still shoots ocular daggers at him for roughly the eighty-third time this season. They probably hoard stock footage of Elizabeth's evil eye, just to save time and money. She is so one-dimensional this season. Mark shakily says, "Can you feel the defect?" He's referring to the patient, but it smacks of being a meta about their marriage. Chuny watches with barely contained amusement, ever more certain that she's going to win the office pool.
Carter is treating a middle-aged woman, who corrects him that her name is "Miss McDuffy." She claims she can't quite put her finger on the particular problem that brought her in -- she's just tired, depressed, can't concentrate, has headaches and hives, and suffers from bloating and constipation. So basically, she's human. McDuffy devours Carter with her eyes while he checks her heart rate. Grabbing his hand and putting it on her pelvis, McLusty purrs, "It hurts here, too." Carter sputters, "Uh, any chest pain?" McChesty moves his paw straight onto her breast and pants, "Oh, that's the worst of all." Carter, by the look on his face, agrees. Yanking his hand away, Carter orders Abby to perform eleven tests that probably sound more serious than they are, and starts to hoof it out of the room. "I've got a yeast infection, too," McCrusty smiles. "Wonderful!" Carter chirps. "Wanna see it?" she growls. "Maybe later," he chokes quietly, trying to quell the rising bile tide, certain he could conceive of no fresher hell.
Following Carter into the hallway, Abby smirks that he should be a sport and play gynecologist. "I think that might just put me over the edge," Carter winces. "Into what, celibacy?" Abby cracks. Does he really need help in that department? Carter corrects her by saying that it might push him into taking a new position he's been offered. Abby brushes him off, insisting he won't take it because he adores County General. "Abby, I don't have a job here!" Carter complains. When his residency finishes, Weaver has guaranteed him some shift work, but that's it -- and he could do shit work...uh, shift work...anywhere. "Northwestern," Carter proclaims importantly, as though he's trying the word on for size. "It's a tenure-track clinical faculty position." Abby snorts, "You want to be a professor now?" Carter argues that it's better job security, although Abby rightly counters that he certainly isn't in medicine for the money, given his family fortune. "My money is, they have yeast infections at Northwestern, too," Abby says. She continues to rib him, and the more she does it, the more certain he grows that Northwestern is the place for him. I think he wants her to cower at his feet, weep tears of passion, and beg him to stay with her so they can breed baby doctors and smooch between pelvic exams. "Have to let them know by Friday," Carter goads her. This jolts Abby. "Tomorrow's Friday," she gapes. "I know," Carter answers smugly.
Chen interrupts, handing Carter a chart and ordering him to treat the hypochondriac with a spider bite behind Curtain Two. He considers trading up for the mystery box, but that's probably McCrusty's yeast infection, so off he trots to the curtain. Rounding the corner, Chen spots Weaver and stops dead for a second, gulps, then continues toward her. Weaver is treating a man who got mugged. "Stan tripped over a curb trying to get away," his wife snipes, as Stan quietly roasts in his own humiliation. Weaver says all he needs is an ice pack, then strolls away with Chen. The duo hashes out clerical business before Chen clears her throat and casually wonders if there's anything she should know in advance of her afternoon meeting with Romano. Clueless, Weaver stops and stares. "Risk Management called me, so I assume it's about the Marfan's death," Chen exposits. "Oh," Weaver says lamely, totally out of the loop on this one. "Has there been a wrongful-death suit filed?" Chen presses. Weaver covers that an in-house review of the situation is standard procedure with such cases. Chen counters that this is different, because her audience is a lawyer, not fellow physicians, as with Mark's Morbidity & Mortality briefing on the Bad Dad Fossen case. Weaver once again tries to assure her that the lawyers exist for her protection, and that of the hospital. "And assess exposure," Chen correctly assumes. Then she levels with Weaver. "Dave was fired," she says flatly. "I just thought maybe...." God, spit it out, Chen. Weaver bumbles that Malucci's termination reflected several other circumstances unique to him and his personality. "Am I in trouble here, Kerry?" Chen finally asks, whipping out the big gun by using the first name. She's appealing to Weaver as a friend. Too bad that f-word is foreign to Weaver.
A man holds up a tiny glass jar, his homemade prison for the spider that nipped him. This is a huge spider. This is the kind of spider that makes me move out of my apartment, but leave all my stuff, just in case it befouled something with its hairy legs and venomous fangs. This man had to get close to The Beast in order to catch it; thus, I'm dubbing him "Foolish." Anyway, Foolish found the spider in his slipper and brought it to the ER so they could milk it and find the antivenin. Right. Carter smirks and points out that no form of dangerous spider is native to the Chicago area. Therefore, I will be moving there tomorrow. "So this one hopped on a bus across the border," argues Foolish. "All I know is, the little bastard took a chunk out of my foot." Abby leans down to investigate, and deems his wound a flea bite. Foolish tries to argue, but Carter concurs and orders a treatment of hydrocortisone and a flea bomb. "See, look -- you've got this down, why would you want to leave it?" Abby snickers to Carter as they leave.
"Pardon, miss?" Julie Delpy calls out to Abby. "What's your name again?" Abby stares at her and introduces herself somewhat reluctantly. Julie says her name is Nicole, pronounced Neecole. Carter walks away, ogling Neecole the whole time. Neecole reminds everyone that she met Abby in the dive bar with Luka. She cut her hand, and thinks it's deep enough to warrant...and she can't think of the word. "Sutures?" Carter white-knights, sidling up to them with an extremely pleasant smile on this face. Neecole thanks him, then complains that Frank rudely refused to notify Luka of her presence. She wanted Luka to kiss her wound better and then hook her up to an IV of Love. "Dr. Carter's very good at suturing," Abby offers. Crushed, Neecole asks whether this means Luka isn't working. "No, I think that he is, isn't he, Abby?" Carter asks, aware that this is Luka's conquest and enjoying it immensely. Abby grudgingly affirms that Luka is indeed there, and leads Neecole to a room -- despite the extremely long line of complaining patients who've spent eight hours waiting to see a doctor. Abby could've very justifiably sent Neecole to the back of the queue, and richly enjoyed watching her twiddle her thumbs. I need to teach her some Nasty. Carter watches them go, then blithely turns his gaze to his shoe -- across which Satan's Pet Spider is scampering. He jumps ten feet in the air and kicks it across the linoleum. "Don't hurt it!" screams Foolish. Carter can't figure out why the hell that monstrous demon is running loose, but it turns out Foolish unleashed the beast because "[Carter] said he was innocent!" Foolish is hereby re-christened, "The Twelve Ways of Stupid."
Carter groans and peeks around the Reception area, hunkered down near the floor checking for the elusive arachnid. God, Carter, do not descend to its level! That's exactly what the spider wants. "Frank, I think I need Housekeeping in here," he says, backed by the Punchy Synthesizer of Wacky Misadventures. "Funny, that's not how I remember you," Susan says lightly. At the sound of a familiar voice, Carter jerks up his head -- and bonks it under the reception desk, cursing. "That is," she nods. He glances her way, then grins. "Dr. Lewis!" he says, bounding over and embracing her. "Susan, Carter," she corrects. Or maybe she's channeling Miss Cleo, knows the year's scripts, and introduced herself as Susan Carter in order to drive Carter/Abby fans straight to aneurysm. The hug is sweet -- genuine, if not impassioned, and the first such greeting she's received. "What are you doing here?" he asks, still amazed to see her. "Would you believe I'm looking for work?" she says with a self-deprecating chuckle. "In Chicago?" he clarifies. "Yeah, never say never," she smiles. Then, Susan considers Carter for a second, and breathes, seemingly impressed, "Wow, you look...different," as though his Y chromosome has kicked into gear and Carter's now dripping with machismo. He appreciatively states that she looks the same, which is true except for the mess on her head. Many people have ripped into Sherry Stringfield's apparent struggle to lose her pregnancy pounds. For the record, I think she looks healthy, and in real life is probably a totally normal size eight or ten. I refuse to rail on her for that. I'd rather see ten curvy Sherrys on my TV screen than the twig I would get if I squished together Portia de Rossi and Jennifer Aniston. Back to the scene. Susan mentions an interview with Northwestern, and Carter's competition radar bleeps -- curiously, he asks whether she's up for the clinical faculty position, then smugly confirms that job has already been offered to him. Susan is confused, because she didn't realize Carter transferred back to the ER. "So you must be Chief Resident!" she realizes, unwittingly opening an old wound and dumping a can of salt into it. Carter corrects her by saying that Dr. Chen is Chief Resident. "Deb Chen?" Susan asks, wonderingly. Also correcting her on Deb's new name, Carter fumbles the pronunciation of "Jing-Mei" a bit -- even if he doesn't use that name, shouldn't he know how to say it, out of respect for his friend? He asks Frank for help. "I don't know what she calls herself," Frank grumbles.
Weaver anxiously leans against the wall outside the men's room, appearing almost nauseous. Dr. Robert "As Bald As Greene, but Better At It" Romano shoots out the door, and as he does, we hear a loud zipping noise. From the motion of his hands, he clearly wasn't closing the trou, so clearly, an editor somewhere got all frantic and sweaty-palmed at the idea of dubbing in the sound of a zipper being closed. Because that's real, folks. These are the sounds of life. Romano snarks, "Kerry, lurking around the men's room now? What, are you changing teams again?" I love Romano. Long may he flavor this show with flippant evil. Weaver demands to know why he's scheduling meetings with her residents without notifying her. "I'm sorry, did you not get the memo?" he asks, almost apologetically. Momentarily appeased, Weaver replies, "No. What memo?" Romano barks, "The one that says I run this place." Romano 2, Weaver 0, although if we adjusted that for past incidents, the score would tip much closer to Romano 324, Weaver 0. "Dr. Chen is my responsibility," Weaver argues, claiming that she ought to receive warning of any Risk Management hearings that involve her staffers. Romano blithely tells her to consider this her warning. "Good. I want to be there," Weaver says. "No, you don't," Romano answers. "I don't even want to be there." Weaver thinks it's appropriate for her to attend, but Romano waves her off again, on the pretext that he prefers not to interfere with Risk Management's investigations. "Now it's an investigation?" Weaver squeaks. "Information gathering, whatever," Romano groans, annoyed. Trying another tack, Weaver alerts him of Dr. Chen's uneasiness that the meeting is with a lawyer, then blatantly lies that Chen wanted Weaver to join her there for comfort. This should've set off Romano's mental alarm, because they all know a pit bull would bring more cuddly relief than Weaver. Kerry then attempts to convince him that her presence could head off the involvement of yet more attorneys. "Does she have something to hide?" Romano asks, pointedly. "No, the truth is bad enough," Weaver insists. "I think we should be trying to protect her." Romano stops, swivels and sighs, "Sure you don't just have a little thing for her?" Weaver growls, "Oh, Robert!" but she comes off sounding amused and more than a little aroused by his teasing. They should totally hit the sheets in a hot three-way with...oh, I don't know, Cleo. She seems bored. Finally, Romano agrees to let Weaver sit in on the inquiry, and charges ahead alone through swinging double doors.
Mark and Elizabeth continue to prod away at their patient who, by the amount of blood loss, seems a goner. "Good femoral with compressions," offers Chuny. Elizabeth tells them to stop CPR, which reveals that the patient lacks a pulse and blood pressure. Susan raps at the window. "Your friend's back," Elizabeth spits. Mark apologetically smiles at Susan, then quizzes Elizabeth on what she's feeling inside the patient. "Probably entry wound through the left ventricle," she answers. "He's ragged through the mitral valve." They establish that it's a dangerously large tear, and as the nurses relay that the monitors aren't showing any positive stats, Elizabeth darts two evaluative, chilly glances at Susan. "He's gone," Mark sighs. "You want to call it?" She would prefer to keep working, so Mark marches out of the trauma room to delay his lunch with Susan yet again. It's so romantic. Fists aloft at shoulder-level and caked with the blood of a dying man, Mark booms through the door and practically shoves those fuckers right in Susan's face. Somehow, inexplicably, Susan has not keeled over with lust. He begs for ten more minutes. "You look great," he says, trying not to sound inappropriately enthusiastic. "You look great, too," Susan says. Her nose shoots out, a rod of deception that smashes the left lens of Mark's spectacles. Haleh yells that she needs Mark to treat a little boy, age six, with vomiting and dehydration. He wants her to get Cleo on the case, but Haleh relays that the kid has a genetic disorder. Is Cleo not a pediatrician? Or, maybe there's a specific qualification she lacks, barring her from handling this case. Either way, she's deemed the wrong doctor for it. Susan doesn't want to be late for her interview, so she offers to return to County later for coffee. Beleaguered, Mark consents to the plan and checks to see whether Elizabeth can spare him. Need he ask? "Forget it. Go," Elizabeth allows. Susan smirks, "Good to see things never change," referring to the ER chaos. Yanking off his bloody gloves and gown and heading for the young lad's room, Mark shouts, "Knock 'em dead!" Susan replies, "You too." The odds of that are definitely good -- this is County General, after all.
The little boy, curled up sweetly on the stretcher, has been vomiting for three consecutive days and is severely dehydrated. Mark tries to scold the tyke's parents for waiting so long before bringing him in, but they claim their insurance screwed up and barred them from seeing their regular geneticist at Mercy. That isn't exactly an answer, because for all we know, they went to Mercy that morning and not two days ago. Mark doesn't dwell on this, though, so neither shall I. The tyke, a sweet, sickly little boy named Kenny, has Trisomy 18, a.k.a. Edward's Syndrome, a genetic condition in newborns that results in malformed organs, cardiovascular difficulties, unusually narrow hips that obscure normal body functions, and apnea, just part of a long list of dire complications. That rare defect usually claims the lives of afflicted children much earlier than this; Mark posits that he didn't know such cases could live past age one. "They don't. He's special," Almost Bradley Whitford chokes, while his wife averts her eyes, pained. Mark presses on Kenny's belly, proclaims it rock-hard, and bellows for Elizabeth to hurry to his aid. Then, he calls for a rectal temp. "I can do that, if you want," offers Kenny's shaken mother, an older, ragged Kirsten Dunst. Mark assures her that a nurse can handle it. "She only means she does it for him all the time," snaps Almost Brad, a tad too bitterly. Elizabeth enters, and Mark gives her the bullet; she's equally stunned to see a six-year-old with Trisomy 18. Haleh struck out with the IV, so Mark calls for a subclavian; Elizabeth determines that there's a loop of bowel, which on further analysis seems perforated. UnDunst bites her lip and averts her eyes, wincing. "I'm surprised he doesn't have a fever," Elizabeth muses. "He will," Almost Brad says. Elizabeth figures there's also dead bowel inside Kenny, and they prepare to wheel him to the OR; right then, Kenny vomits. All we see is a spray of yellow landing on linoleum; here, I notice they haven't shown Kenny again, so it's likely they chose not to subject the real child to a lot of prodding. That's a tasteful decision. "Please, this has to stop," UnDunst begs desperately. Mark starts to give an answer specific to the vomiting, but Almost Brad has a different end in mind: "Give him something for the pain." Elizabeth oddly obliges, calling for a dose of morphine at the behest of these armchair medics. Is it that easy? Because my tooth sort of hurts, and a little morphine might do the trick. Thanks. But Elizabeth still hasn't grasped their meaning. "No, to end it," Almost Brad wails. "Please, just end it for him." Elizabeth shoots him a strange glance before wheeling their son away.
Buy a Lexus. It will make you a sexier woman.
Chen fiddles with some paperwork at Reception, then notifies Haleh that she has to head upstairs. "Tell each resident to pick up at least two of the fast-tracks as soon as their sicker patients are tucked in," she instructs. "They don't listen to me," grouses Haleh. Weaver appears. "Ready?" she chirps. Chen stops dead in her tracks, smelling a rat. Weaver plays it off like her presence at Chen's meeting is routine and appropriate, and somehow at the request of Romano. Another lie. Heh. What if, instead of her nose, Weaver's cane grew every time she lied? I picture her leaning on it, dangling ten feet in the air, flailing. What? So I've had a little too much sugar today. Chen clearly doubts all this, so Weaver tries to soothe her with much the same reasoning Chen used on Malucci: "Do this job long enough, you'll make a serious mistake. It's true for everyone." Chen isn't encouraged.
Elizabeth approaches Kenny's parents, who are waiting in the lobby with gloomy expressions and sallow complexions. They've been through this wringer before; they know it flattens them a little more each time. Soothingly, Elizabeth informs them that Tyke stopped puking, and is doped up on plenty of meds. "You must think we're awful people," UnDunst says weakly. Sitting down, speaking from a place of apparent empathy, Elizabeth promises them that she understands how high emotions can run when a child's health is at stake. As such, she's fairly certain they didn't truly want death for Kenny. "Of course we don't," Almost Brad almost weeps, brokenly suggesting that they're just tired. UnDunst exposits that Kenny needs non-stop care and attention, on a far more demanding level than the average healthy six-year-old would require. I'm pleased to see this softer Elizabeth. She gently explains that Kenny has an incarcerated inguinal hernia, which is easily repaired through surgery. The trick: if he's had it for a while, they'll need to check all of Kenny's internal organs and perhaps perform a colostomy. Kenny's parents visibly sink, their eyes glazing over and all their energy leaking onto the hospital floor. "How many has he had so far?" Elizabeth queries. "Four," exhales Almost Brad, jaw set in angry agony. "Three laparotomies and a VSD repair." Tiredly, her voice hard and her eyes reflecting more self-pity than concern for Kenny, UnDunst sighs, "He's had more surgeries than birthdays." Elizabeth's concern here is palpable -- she's not sure what to make of this lifeless couple.
Outside, Chen is venting to Carter, upset that she placed severely misguided trust in Weaver. "I thought she was going to protect me," she whimpers. "She was going to protect herself." Carter, like the rest of the continent, can't believe Chen would be so naïve, but tries to comfort her by suggesting that perhaps Weaver has devised a way to save both their asses. "Weaver's political, that's true, but she's smart enough to protect her own," Carter concludes. A gent from Housekeeping interrupts to ask Carter what "it" looked like. "It's a big insect! Big, hairy!" Carter replies. Oh, the spider is back, crawling through the script like so many dumb time-filling comic devices. As an ambulance pulls in, Carter reminds Chen that her status as Chief Resident reflects on Weaver, so theoretically, it's in the boss-lady's best interests to yank them both out of the dung heap.
The paramedic gives Carter the bullet, and me a chance to use my favorite piece of ER vocab. A thirty-five-year-old man fell off his roof and impaled himself, but by packing around the wound, the EMTs staved off severe blood loss. A fence picket pokes from the belly of Vlad the Impaled, having settled there when he landed upon it during a routine attempt to steal cable from his neighbors. So, kids, let that be a lesson to you -- if you don't pay money for cable, you could pay with your life. The More You Know. "Don't touch me!" screams Vlad.
Kenny clings to his mother's hand as his gurney is wheeled toward the OR. Almost Brad can't believe his son is being sliced open again. Elizabeth offers to review the procedure with him, but the man bitterly spits that he knows it all by heart. Politely, Elizabeth passes him the consent form as Kenny disappears into the OR. Her voice raspy, UnDunst expresses interest in the cafeteria. "It's the only time my husband and I get to share a meal together -- when Kenny's in the hospital," she says, huskily. This doesn't look good. The couple thanks Elizabeth and vanishes.
Elizabeth moseys over to the desk area, where a receptionist has just told Dr. Peter "Where Have You Been All My Hour?" Benton that his nanny candidate turned down the job. He's frustrated, because he can't find a caretaker for Reese who knows sign language. "You look tired," Elizabeth beams, the picture of empathy. "So do you," Peter smiles back. "Parenting will do that to you," Elizabeth says, looking for the first time like she actually relishes the challenge, instead of her usual "I'll trade my baby for a cigar and a hot dog" demeanor. Peter chortles, then leaves a message begging his would-be nanny to reconsider the job. As he chats, his pager beeps.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH," Vlad says, showing off some lovely orthodontia. His gray, blood-streaked picket still sticks straight out of his swollen, greenish-gray belly. I believe the technical term for this is "repulsive." When Benton arrives, Carter understates that Vlad has fragments in his peritonetum. Peter reacts accordingly. "That's one hell of a fragment," he replies coolly, snapping on some rubber gloves. Vlad's blood pressure drops, so Chen yells for a central-line kit. Vlad's wife, a cute young woman with flippy blonde hair -- who therefore earns the name Dido -- begs Peter to remove Godzilla's Splinter from her hubby's abdomen. Dido is cradling a young girl, who watches with interest as her father thrashes and howls and, in a nutshell, laments the presence of wood in his tummy. Hope the kid doesn't like sleeping, because she won't be able to do it ever again. Benton calmly explains that if he plucks yon plank from the peritonetum, Vlad will promptly bleed all over the floor. They'll have to wheel him into the operating room. "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH," Vlad insists. Okay, we heard you! Jeez. Take a Tums. Dido wails, "Can't you give him something?" Grimly, Chen says they already did. Benton yells that Vlad's diaphragm may have ruptured, and they should red-line him immediately. "I love you!" wails Vlad. Dido shushes him, frantically insisting that he should shut up, because goodbyes aren't required and he's going to be fine. "I do! I love you!" Vlad insists. Carter wants the O-negative blood. "Waiting on Dr. Chen," Lydia says crabbily. Hey, cow, let her work. Dumbfounded at the bitchery, Chen glares at Lydia, then insists she's almost established a central line.
Romano studies a file. "Didn't [Chen] leave a guide wire in some poor shlub's chest?" he asks, casually. Weaver insists that was six years ago, back when Chen was a young, innocent medical student named Deb who had never even heard of The Single Guy. RiskMan figures this amounts to a pattern of misbehavior by Chen, calling for decisive action that protects the hospital from looking like a giant death trap. "We could have real exposure if she kills anyone else," he muses. His tone offends Weaver, who thinks he's being dramatic. "The guy's dead. Can't get much more dramatic," Romano snipes. Weaver defends Chen, saying there's no plausible reason to assume she'll kill anyone else. RiskMan wants a guarantee, but obviously, Weaver can't give that, because medicine will always be an imprecise science governed as much by chance as skill. Extenuating circumstances can dictate the day. That's life. Cheekily, Romano asks, "What happens the time you take a twenty-minute break off-campus, Kerry?" This gives Weaver pause. She knows her ass is on the line. She doesn't even try to suggest a more refined system with which doctors can regulate dinner breaks, and fails even to offer to create a blanket rule that all on-call doctors can only eat across the street, within reach should pagers somehow wander into the bathroom and stay there. True, she might've been shot down, but the effort would've spoken a bit more for Weaver's character. Instead, she dirties herself too readily with the politics of it all, wondering aloud how important the technicalities of Chen's status really are. "You mean, can you end the blood trail with Chen?" Romano asks, knowingly. RiskMan drops his papers and clasps his hands, aware that some variety of ball will commence imminently. Weaver demands to know what kind of personal support she can expect from the hospital regarding this matter. Blithely, Romano refuses to dictate a course of action, but pointedly suggests that the family will probably expect accountability beyond just Malucci. Weaver knows she's trapped.
So, is everyone out there fired up about the Dr. Dolittle 2 DVD? Huh? Anyone? Is this thing on?
Benton introduces himself to Vlad, explaining that he's going to anaesthetize him and make a few repairs specific to the gaping gash in his belly -- you know, the one with the fence sticking out of it. "Don't," Vlad rasps. Glancing askance at his patient, Benton assures him that he's probably feeling funny due to the medication, and promises a happy ending to the gory story. "Just let me die," Vlad intones. Curiously, Benton asks the nurse whether this is a known suicide attempt; it is not. Briefly, a nurse pops in to tell Benton that his niece can't pick up Reese from school because her car called it quits during a contract dispute. Weakly, Vlad grabs Peter's scrubs and pulls him a bit closer. "Nooooo," he moans. "It has to be an accident." We get a shot of Peter unclenching Vlad's fingers, returning the man's hand to the bed. He reminds Vlad that he must recover for his family's sake. "They need the money MORE," Vlad growls, reaching for his tummy timber and giving it a nice hard spanking. Vlad's tummy rejects this idea, spurting blood everywhere. Bad Vlad. Freaked, Benton and the nurse grab Vlad's hands. Monitors beep Vlad's life away; his pulse disappears. Dr. Babcock dashes in as Peter begins compressions, so Benton orders him to bag Vlad immediately. "I need to clamp the aorta," Benton barks. Babcock wants to wheel Vlad the extra twenty feet into the OR, but Benton insists Vlad won't make it if they do. A nurse scampers over to gather some tools, but slips and falls. Weird. That came out of nowhere. ["I thought maybe she wiped out on the giant puddle of blood." -- Wing Chun] Benton yells for scissors and a rib spreader, but Nurse Slippy -- suddenly very much on her feet -- brats that pre-op isn't equipped with these things, so she has to fetch them from the OR. Okay, less talk, more walk, Slippy. Benton says forget it, makes an incision, and yanks apart the ribcage in a particularly juicy-sounding maneuver. Babcock is slightly repulsed. Benton barks for them to hightail it into the OR, having apparently clamped the offending aorta.
Cut to a more serene scene -- Elizabeth is operating on Kenny, while lilting strains of Mozart drift through the air. "I don't have time to listen to music anymore, except at work," she says, amused. Nurse Shirley sympathizes. Turning toward Kenny, Elizabeth sighs, "Have you ever seen this many adhesions?" Shirley wonders if that's part of the disease. "That, and heart defects, mental retardation, multiple gut problems...move to the right, Lizzie," Romano interjects. I love how he calls her "Lizzie." Romano is the wussiest-looking bad-ass I know. A photographer snaps shots of poor Kenny's innards, while an irate Elizabeth berates Romano for interrupting a crucial operation. "You're in the middle of a historic case," he argues, relishing the mere existence of a six-year-old with Trisomy 18/Edward's Syndrome. He instructs the photographer to shoot the palmar's creases and rockerbottom feet, and as flashbulbs pop, Elizabeth's temper inflames. Romano insists that, as a teaching hospital, it is County General's obligation to document remarkable cases such as Kenny's. "How these parents can keep this kid alive in good conscience is beyond me," Romano judges. "Oh, get a shot of that!" The photographer shoots right at the opening in Kenny's belly. Seething, Elizabeth tries to concentrate. "Fistula end looks nice and pink. Let's tack it down," she barks. "This one's for the coffee table," Romano says impishly, grabbing Elizabeth. "Smile, Lizzie!" She swivels her head around, and the photographer catches a clearly grinning Romano and a thoroughly furrowed brow belonging to Elizabeth.
Benton lifts the fencepost from Vlad's stomach, announcing that it pierced the cecum, omentum, and superior mesenteric vein. Basically, it fucked up some shit. I'd go into greater detail, but the point of this scene is not Vlad's hole, but the fact that Peter can't find anyone to pick up Reese. A nurse relays to Benton that his brother-in-law isn't answering the phone at the garage, so he shouts out Jackie's telephone number. Vlad chooses this moment to exsanguinate. Jackie's answering-machine message plays through the speakerphone. Benton begs her to take his call, because he's desperate for help with Reese. We see a haggard Jackie stare traumatized at the telephone, then turn away slowly as Peter's voice pleads with her to help.
Finished with Kenny, Elizabeth wheels him as far as the OR reception area. "How'd it go?" a nurse asks. "As well as can be expected," Elizabeth replies. She quizzes the nurse about the whereabouts of Almost Brad and UnDunst, but the nurse reveals that they haven't returned since surgery began. "They can't still be eating," mutters Elizabeth, concerned. If she didn't see this one coming, then she needs contacts.
In the cafeteria, Mark and Susan finally share a few moments of bonding. He ribs her about wanting to turn down one of the positions, which she reveals is because the interviewer asked her out in the middle of the meeting. "Was he good-looking?" Mark asks awkwardly, a horrible misfit in the gal-pal role. "He spits when he talks," Susan says dismissively, but she isn't worried -- she has three more sessions set up at different hospitals. Mark casually suggests that she stop the search and return to the ER, just like the commercials promised. "Yeah, right," snickers Susan. Mark insists they are looking for an Attending. "You saw what it was like down there this morning," he notes. Dumbfounded, Susan can't believe Weaver didn't mention the vacancy, but she ceases chatter when Mark stoops to sit down -- for the first time, Susan spots the scar from The Tumor That Went Without a Fight. "You could've at least called me, you know," she scolds him lightly. I thought we'd been through this, and he called Scottsdale all the time; apparently, their reconnection is relatively recent, but old enough to have clogged at least one month's phone bill. Mark brushes her aside, cracking a feeble joke and basically admitting that he didn't know what to say. "Or written a letter," Susan further admonishes. "Oh, like the one you wrote me, telling me that you were engaged?" Mark cracks, as does his fragile heart. "It wasn't an engagement, and it's over," Susan defends herself. Clearing his throat, Mark asks if that's the reason she's leaving Phoenix. Susan exposits that her sister Chloe moved, and that was her only real tie to Arizona; rather than track Chloe all across the globe, Susan decided to revisit her old stomping grounds. "I just missed it here," she says, wistfully. "The city, the weather...you." Poignant eye-contact ensues. Mark grins like he wants nothing more than to be her human loofah. Elizabeth bursts in, barely noticing Susan and inquiring as to whether Mark spotted Kenny's parents in the cafeteria. She misses the look of abject guilt on Mark's face, which was priceless. Elizabeth pants as she peruses the cafeteria. "Did he make it through surgery?" Mark asks. "Yes, his eleventh," she responds, fatigued. Mark half-heartedly introduces his wife to Susan, who extends a polite greeting. Elizabeth nods and utters a brisk and detached reply. Mark informs Elizabeth of Susan's planned return to Chicago, and for the first time, Elizabeth really studies her cherubic rival. The moment is quiet, prolonged, and profoundly uncomfortable, mostly because both vultures are circling a carcass that's far too stringy to make a good meal. Susan finally offers Elizabeth an olive branch -- coffee -- but Dr. Corday spits, "I don't drink coffee. I'm breastfeeding." Her words are the verbal equivalent of pissing a circle around her Mark-ed territory. Mark, for his part, looks like he regrets everything he's done with his life since Susan left, and that includes throwing out the free Rogaine sample. "She seems nice," lies Susan, her eyes betraying her. Wisely, Mark says nothing.
Benton picks away at Vlad while barking instructions at the nurse, who's now on the horn with Reese's school and has to wait for a text translator to type her every word. Benton wants them to watch him until 6:30 PM, but the school refuses. "Your son's getting upset," the nurse informs Peter. "He's crying." Aw! Benton tells her to hang up and shouts out another number for her to dial. Meanwhile, Vlad's blood-pressure is practically nonexistent, and Babcock is vocally frustrated with the case -- clearly, Vlad is doomed. Benton still wants to pack the wound. "Hey Roger, it's Peter," he yells into the speakerphone. Roger, gazing out the window of his humble Klingon abode, listens patiently while Peter lists all the other avenues he's pursued, then begs Roger to pick up Reese. Calmly, Roger promises to do it; Benton swears he'll pick up his son as soon as he's finished with work.
Back to Vlad. The vascular surgeon won't be there for another ten minutes, which riles Peter; just that second, Vlad goes into defib. "More blood!" Benton yells, but Babcock can't go any faster with it. Desperate, Benton decides to try jump-starting the heart with internal paddles despite Babcock's belief that it's futile. Benton charges twice, to no effect.
Remember that boy, age nine, who Abby thought might be "a handful"? She was being extremely charitable. The kid is a buck-toothed ferrety brat. Screaming and wriggling, he refuses to sit still and let Luka treat the head wound. "Let go of me!" he shrieks. Abby reassures him that they'll ease the pain if he'll just calm down. "NO!" the kid, identified as John Thomas, wails. Luka scoots him back onto a bed and quietly tells "John" that they must administer a quick shot. "MY NAME'S JOHN THOMAS AND I DON'T WANT A SHOT," he screams, in a voice that's sure to rally all the neighborhood dogs and lead them in a barking frenzy straight to the ER. His mother scolds him for climbing all over his father's boat. More horrible noises waft from the brat's mouth. The child actor delivers every line in exactly the same tone, and it's just sheer pain for me. Abby should tie this woman's tubes free of charge. John Thomas's mother tries to barter, promising that if he shuts up, they'll go to McDonald's. "I WANT TO GO TO THE TOYS 'R' US," J.T. shrieks. They argue, and the child manages an incredible, oxymoronic scream-whimper when Luka inserts the needle into his head. "Stop it, John Thomas, or I'm going to tell Daddy that you were climbing on his boat," his mother says fiercely. "I'LL TELL GRANDMA YOU WERE PLAYING WITH DADDY'S PENIS!" John Thomas howls. Abby stifles a chortle and has to turn away. Bellowing, John Thomas flees, followed by his unfortunate mother. "I think he's going to Toys 'R' Us," Luka posits. "Oh, yeah," Abby grins. As they snap off their rubber gloves, Luka watches Abby with a fond gleam in his eye. She catches him. "I haven't seen you smile in a while," he says, gently, twinkling. "I forgot how pretty you are." It does seem like the fire in his eyes could be a torch, burning still for Miss Lockhart, but it could also be delight in the merriment of his close friend who is usually gloomy. It feels like this moment exists more to confuse Abby -- and fuel her Carter vs Luka quandary -- than to indicate any real rebirth of his affection for her. But that's just a guess. Taken aback, Abby isn't sure what to make of this backhanded compliment. Luka backs away as she thanks him sincerely, but once he's gone, her face contorts into a mask of confusion. "I guess," she mutters.
A maintenance man crawls through the hospital in search of the missing man-eating spider. Thank you, ER, for tapping into my darkest nightmares. He disrupts Cleo and thoughtfully tells her to watch for the big, hairy spider, and she shudders. Oh, but she's only present so that Elizabeth can storm past and ask her if she's seen Almost Brad and UnDunst. She's checked the chapel, the bathrooms, and all the snack areas. Cleo suggests that they might've dashed home. "I don't know where home is!" Elizabeth stresses. Mark and Susan wander into the foreground. "Elizabeth, tell Susan what a great place this is to work," Mark calls to his rushed spouse. "Haven't the time," she pants. Susan astutely notes that Elizabeth either hates her, or is pissed at Mark. Inanely, Mark claims she's just focused. "Riiiiight," Susan murmurs.
Alone in a supply room, Chen works quietly until Weaver interrupts her with a lame invitation to grab a meal together. Chen isn't interested. Weaver begins, "I want you to know, I went on record against this, but the administration --" "Am I being fired, Kerry?" Chen interrupts, still refusing to make eye contact with her former ally. Weaver overemphasizes that no, no, no, of course Chen isn't being fired. "You're on a year's probation and subject to a month's suspension without pay," Weaver says. Chen wilts, betrayed and hurt. Kerry continues to blather that she championed Chen, but Risk Management brought up her history and preferred to punish her a bit and pretend the act will mitigate future incidents. That they're using the guide-wire incident appalls Chen, but there's more: She must resign the Chief Residency. "What about you?" spits Chen. "Are you going to resign anything?" As diplomatically as she can, Weaver fumbles that her involvement or lack thereof is not at issue here. "Yeah, you made sure of that," Chen seethes, turning away again, sick at the sight of Kerry. Back inside her tunnel and digging her way clear into the mid-Atlantic, Weaver drones on about how upsetting this must be, yet it's only a temporary setback. "Were you even wearing your pager that night?" Chen quizzes pointedly. Weaver stops. "This isn't about me," she insists. Disgusted, Chen marvels at how adeptly Kerry distributes the blame in order to keep it from besmirching her own lab coat. Weaver feebly apologizes, but Chen says, "You are not sorry. Just relieved." Clearly off-balance, Weaver tries again to reach out to Chen. "Go to hell, Kerry," fumes Jing-Mei. "I quit."
I love that Sprint commercial where the grandmother flours the kids. This being a commercial break, I thought I'd share that tidbit. Thanks for listening.
Fade up on Mark pacing the lounge, upset. "She wasn't terminated," Weaver clarifies. "She resigned." Mark can't believe that a demotion was truly necessary, but Weaver fobs it off on Risk Management's fear of liability issues. "Right, I bet. This is a teaching hospital!" Mark cries, aggravated that the situation has exploded into something so severe. But I'm sure the "we're a teaching hospital" argument will work wonders on Paul's grieving family. "Well, our son's dead, but at least someone learned a valuable lesson," Paul's mother will weep, proud that her son sacrificed his life for higher learning. What's that? Oh, right: Bullshit. Weaver notes that Chen, the newly christened Erroneous One, screwed up while in the role of teacher. Mark fumes that Kerry's on some kind of firing rampage. "It's easy for you to be upset and angry about the situation when you don't have to manage it," she shouts defensively. "But guess what: I'm angry and upset, okay? I think it sucks, only I don't have anyone to complain to." Mark can't believe she's asking for his pity. Weaver flatly says she isn't, but felt he should be aware of the situation. "Hopefully, this will be the last person I'll have to change for a while," she says in parting. Mark won't let her go without consent to hire Susan Lewis. He won't take no for an answer, and Weaver's in no position to refuse qualified doctors. Weaver's an odd duck. I think she's a good person who gets too caught up in office politics, precisely because of what Malucci said -- the ER is her life, and without it, she's adrift. But Kerry's going to get awfully dull this season if she's a one-note witch, and I just don't think reuniting her with her birth mother is a compelling enough story to add dimension to her character. Unless her mother turns out to be homeless, like David Silver's mother, at which time the gang can learn a very important lesson about life and hard knocks.
Elizabeth creeps into Kenny's room, exhaustedly staring at the helpless child. Romano follows. "Mom and Dad stayed just long enough to give consent, huh?" he asks. Emotionally, Elizabeth informs him that the consent form is meaningless, chock full of fake names and addresses. "I'm not even sure his real name is Kenny," she says, as we see the sweet child restlessly stirring in his bed. "God knows he can't tell us." Romano is disgusted. "Twenty thousand bucks later, and only his parents have quality of life," he says. "Probably in the Bahamas by now." Elizabeth decides to sympathize with the extreme pressures placed on Kenny's parents' shoulders, but as a mother herself, I'd think she would be appalled at the idea of anyone abandoning their baby. Perhaps, as suggested in the forums, she's trying to rationalize her own crabbiness, while at the same time realizing she's got a pretty charmed life and child. "Boo hoo," Romano judges, ignoring Elizabeth's comments about how emotionally and physically draining Kenny's care must have been for them. "Want to be a parent? Shut up and do your job," Romano spits, exiting swiftly. ["It was at this point that Sars and I yelled, 'WORD.'" -- Wing Chun] I think that's a twisted mini-theme for this episode -- Vlad thought he did his job, killing himself so his child could benefit from the life-insurance settlement, while Benton is struggling to fulfill his duties as Reese's primary caretaker. Or, I'm searching too hard for meaning in this abyss. Elizabeth sadly strokes Kenny's head, the first tender touch he's received in God knows how long.
Romano emerges into the hall just in time to encounter Benton. "Nice workout, Peter!" he exclaims. "Flogging a dead guy for an hour. Probably burned a thousand calories." Fortunately, Dido didn't hear that. She's around the corner in a waiting room, and Benton approaches her very gingerly. "[Vlad] lost his job six months ago," she rambles. "He said it was the worst that could happen to us! He lied!" Benton gives the usual speech about how hard they tried to repair his critical wounds, but ultimately, they battled in vain. "He never told me why he wanted cable so bad," Dido says, shell-shocked. "We don't need cable." Benton gazes at her, realizing she has no idea how fucking great the Food Network is.
Carter finishes treating a girl with a nosebleed, brought on by too many vigorous picks. Abby hails him, wondering if he ordered a beta test on McYucky. "The hairy woman?" Carter shudders. "It's about the only thing I didn't order." Abby grins that he should have, because it turns out McGotSome is pregnant. Carter is totally stunned that the troll bedded a man. Maybe he's jealous -- after all, it could've been him. Neecole greets Abby cheerfully and asks for Luka, but apparently, he's gone for the day. Carter sniffs his way over to them, complimenting the aromas wafting from Neecole's dainty basket. Ew, no, that's not a euphemism, thank you. The mademoiselle baked Luka chocolate-chip cookies with a hint of oatmeal, perhaps to stimulate the, er, body. Neecole presents the baked goods in gratitude because Luka's immigration lawyer helped her immensely. Abby's expression is forcibly impassive. "That Luka," Carter says, too enthusiastically. "What a great guy." He's loving this. Neecole offers a cookie to Carter, who declines. "Oh, no, I could never touch Luka's cookies," he says, shaking his head and staring straight at Abby, pleased with the emergence of his raunchy side. And it's by far the funniest thing Carter has said in a while. Best line of the show. Neecole is crestfallen that Luka has departed, but pleads with Abby to make sure he receives the gift. Carter loudly exclaims that the cookie is absolutely splendid, which brightens Neecole's face by a thousand watts. She's disgustingly cute and wholesome. That's gotta go. Maura Tierney, by the way, has mastered the smirk -- she's worn one through the entire episode without it getting stale. If this was Friends, smirks would be all the rage this fall, and plastic surgeons the world over would be replicating them on sixteen-year-old trust-fund babies. While I wrote all that, Weaver yanked Carter aside for a private consultation.
Ushering him into a private exam room, Weaver rambles to Carter that time is of the essence, meaning they can't undergo a formal nomination process; what's more, it's impractical to look outside the hospital when clearly it's more convenient to tap someone already familiar with the staff and procedures. Carter has no clue what his boss is saying; all he knows is that he's still sucking on a piece of Luka's cookie and it tastes like sweet paradise. "If you want the Chief Residency, it's yours," Weaver says inelegantly, tossing the bone without caring if it smacks the puppy between his eyes. Carter's eyes light up, proving his complete adoration of County General and his fervent desire to hold a spot of importance there. He basks in this for a second until Weaver informs him of Chen's resignation. This bursts his bubble, as though Carter had expected to share the office and title, and take the trophy home to Gamma every other month. News of Chen's decision stuns Carter, who can't quite believe his ears when Weaver exposits that she didn't just resign the post, but quit completely. Astutely, Carter guesses this is tied to the Marfan's death. Weaver refuses to elaborate on any of what went down, but figures it's smart to lay down a lip-print on Carter's bum just in case. "Your circumstances aside, I should've chosen you for Chief Resident in the first place," Weaver admits. "The truth is, you've handled yourself and your recovery with grace and competence, and I appreciate your professionalism." Carter nearly chokes on Abby's nipple -- er, sorry, that's just what he imagines his piece of Luka's cookie represents. Apropos of nothing, the spider scurries across the floor, filling the screen with its dripping, rabid nostrils and flicking forked tongue. I'm having Starship Troopers flashbacks as the beast heads right for Weaver. Like calls to like, I guess. Weaver glances at it, then squashes it with her cane, crunching its innards and sending a thick brown splash of fluid across the floor. I'm sure no insects were harmed during the filming of this episode, but just ONCE, I'd like to see a disclaimer that says, "Yes. Yes, we killed a spider during filming, because it was so goddamn big we thought it was going to eat the actor who plays Kenny, and his parents didn't sign off on that. Plus, fuck it, we think spiders are gross bastards that deface the Earth. Thank you." After the nonchalant offing of Satan's Pet Spider, Carter's eyebrows rocket upwards and he quickly covers his amusement by rubbing at his forehead. Weaver curtly says, "I assume that's a yes." Still reeling, Carter requests extra time to weigh the decision. "Well, sure, find me in the morning," Weaver says. "Get Housekeeping to clean that up." She exits, leaving Carter alone and staring at the spider's carcass, shaking his head, possibly noting the parallel between what Weaver did to the arachnid and what she did to Chen.
Mark drags Susan to an obscure closet, in which he roots around for a little tidbit he saved for her. She opens a box and lifts out a soiled, crusty-looking "white" lab coat with her name stitched onto it. "Someone found it a couple of years ago when they moved the laundry," Mark claims, pretending he planned to send it to her all along, so that she doesn't discover how he used to crawl into that closet and take naps on it to escape his loveless marriage. Susan looks touched, holding up the coat to her chest, but chuckles that, so far, Mark hasn't won her over in his bid to force County General down her throat. "I already told Kerry that it was a done deal, so if you pull out now, it'll make me look really stupid," Mark wheedles. "Are you serious?" Susan asks, shocked. It's funny, she's acted totally against the idea of working there again -- repulsed, even -- but all of a sudden, one guilt trip and a mildewy lab coat later, Susan's right back on Hell's Highway, breezing past the "salary negotiation" exit. Idiot. Mark tells her he's put her down for Tuesday, and Susan shakes her head, clearly accepting the job.
Roger invites Benton inside his swingin' Widower Pad, assuring him it was no problem to look after Reese and sharing that they played and ate spaghetti before the boy conked out. "It was nice," Roger admits. "I miss him." So far, the atmosphere is genial. Benton gently enquires as to Roger's state. "I miss Carla, too," Roger sighs sadly. Creeping into Reese's room, Peter wakes up his son and informs him that they're leaving. The child refuses. Benton presses him, and Reese stubbornly resists; finally, after another go-around, Roger intervenes and says it's perfectly fine for the half-asleep Reese to spend the night. Slightly frustrated, Benton tucks Reese in anew and shuts off the bedroom light. Roger offers to drop Reese off the morning, but Peter staunchly insists upon collecting his child in person. They make a plan and bid clipped, but not unpleasant farewells. Standing alone in the corridor, Roger's door securely closed, Peter allows his feeling of foreboding to take hold, and he stares morosely at the wall.
More Weaver. Laura Innes is earning her salary, although I suppose if I knew the actual number, I'd take that sentence right back -- after my coronary, of course. Weaver hears giggling, and peers down the hallway at a chipper Mark and Susan, smiling slightly at the rebirth of that friendship. I think. Actually, she's probably feeling relieved that she's got a body filling the open Attending slot. Wandering into the lounge, though, Weaver stops for an uncomfortable beat before proceeding slowly toward her locker, at which time we notice the source of her tension: Malucci. His hair is slicked back and he's clad in leather, looking every inch the hottie he is, and he's emptying his locker. Slamming the door, he begins to leave, but doubles back to rip the nameplate off, making brief but defiant eye-contact with Weaver one last time. Through this entire scene, I was scared Malucci would speak mostly because I didn't trust that anything worthwhile would ensue. That he stayed silent seemed apt.
On the roof, Carter hobnobs with Chen, rehashing the situation and the latest developments. "She offered you the job yet?" Chen ruefully asks. "Not sure that I want it," Carter bluffs, but Chen calls him on it, well aware that it's always been his primary goal. Sweetly, but probably insincerely, Carter insists he'll reject the offer if it means Chen will remain on staff. "I don't want to be here anymore," Chen says calmly. "If it's not you, it'd be someone else, and I'd rather it be you." When Carter asks about her future plans, vis-à-vis staying in Chicago, Chen turns away and stares glumly into the night. She doesn't answer. "I think there's still a spot open at Northwestern," Carter offers. Great. Throw her your scraps, Carter, when you could be throwin' her a great big -- well, moderately sized, probably -- love bone. Chen is silent, and we realize she's on the brink of tears. "Whatever sacrifice you make for this place," she chokes, "you just make sure it's worth it." I feel like that's also Ming-Na speaking from the heart about her ER experience, although the only thing Noah Wyle might be sacrificing is the golden chance to make less money and get less exposure. Plus -- oh, please! Chen's status -- or lack thereof -- was a smokescreen. The fact of her maternity leave doesn't change the fact of her inattention to detail on the night of Paul's death. They're not punishing her for getting pregnant -- they're punishing her because a patient died unnecessarily on her watch, and maybe directly due to her actions, and the hospital needs to guard against a lawsuit by firing the primary culprits. I'm not saying that's kind behavior, but it's realistic. Or is the show implying she gave up her child for the sake of her career? It might've been nice to see a trace of remorse from her -- after all, she did treat a baby last week. It all just sounds way too out of place -- the fact that we're all debating this line and its meaning indicates the shoddiness of her supposed story arc. For them to drag out the maternity leave fiasco is a cheap attempt to shove Chen and Weaver into cookie-cutter Good and Evil molds. Chen starts to cry, except it's the kind of crying that's only shot from a distance, and involves such forcibly shaky breathing and facial contortions that you know no tears are really falling. Still, Carter wraps Chen in his arms and gently kisses her forehead. And despite the legions of forum regulars who felt sparks crackling, I found the whole thing more brotherly than hot. Not that it matters, except that I'm the loudmouth who gets to write in this space.
Sassy music blares through the speakers at a lesbian bar, because lesbians listen to sassy music sung by women with scratchy voices. Weaver timidly enters, sitting at an empty barstool and ordering a vodka neat. She looks around, but doesn't engage herself in her surroundings, staring at herself in the mirror behind the bar as though she doesn't quite recognize the reflection. The singer croaks, "There's a time for living to start!" and we're to assume this is Kerry's time. Live, Lesbian Kerry, live!
time, Susan returns to the ER and things get predictably hectic. I predict the rapid onset of carpal tunnel syndrome.