Previously on ER, Benton suggested to Roger that Reese needs the stability of one home; Roger balked, and Jackie sneered at him. Neecole, the French waif-waitress, flirted with Luka at his local pub and then showed up at the ER claiming to have been fired from her job. Elizabeth lost another patient and Romano ribbed her tensely about it; Carmen from Infection Control popped up to test Elizabeth for bacterial infections.
At Jackie's quaint home, Dr. Peter "Needs To Get Laid" Benton hops around and shoots kiddie hoops with his son Reese while sister Jackie watches with a smile. Reese has the ball and drives to the Fisher-Price hoop. Peter plays lax defense and pretends to commentate on the game, but with one fatal flaw -- he's standing behind his deaf son and he isn't signing anything, so all that parental effort is for naught. Peter might as well be calling him a pussy bitch and insulting his mother. Like, "Yo' Mama's so skanky, no one noticed she died because they're so used to seeing her lyin' flat on her back." Ah, Satan. I'll be there at four for tea. Reese scores. "Slam dunk!" whoops Jackie. Peter celebrates. Jackie informs Peter that she's taking Reese to visit Joanie "on campus," which thrills Peter because it indicates a return to normalcy for his sister. Peter tells Jackie that Roger will be picking up Reese that afternoon so that they can attend a cousin's birthday party. Jackie isn't impressed, especially when she learns it's a cousin on Roger's side, and therefore, "not a real cousin." Nice, Jackie. I wonder if you're his real aunt. Jackie's appalled that Roger seems to be setting Reese's schedule now, but Peter insists it's important to all of them. "I'm sure [Roger] misses Reese," she softens. "More importantly, Reese misses him," Peter replies. Jackie argues that it's too confusing for Reese, because Roger really isn't part of the family. Peter scoffs that Jackie, of all people, should understand the need for Roger to grieve slowly and at his own pace. It grates Jackie to have her pain thrown back in her face like a cream pie; she wipes flakes of crust off her face and stalks past Peter to Reese, ignoring her brother's apologies. "Say bye-bye to Daddy," Jackie says pointedly. Reese and Peter high-five, and Jackie promises to have him ready for his date with Roger.
Drs. Elizabeth "Cooties" Corday and Mark "Gan-" Greene feign domesticity, carting Rachel to school and Lizzie to the hospital in their shiny silver Sham Van. Elizabeth barks instructions into her mobile phone, panicking about the health of a patient. In the back seat, Rachel intently programs her new mobile as well. Rachel has glitter smeared haphazardly all over her cheeks. Shiny and translucent, it looks like her nose exploded during a particularly violent sneeze. She wants an answer from Mark about how to work the damn phone, but he waves her off and tells her to read the instructions. Elizabeth orders a strong course of treatment for her patient's fever. Mark is startled. "That's a big hammer for a post-op fever," he notes. How rude. Elizabeth whispers that the patient's kidneys are shutting down. "I'm missing Algebra, you know," Rachel informs them, less of a complaint than a you-suck-at-parenting snipe. She then hits a button that plays "Ode to Joy" as her phone's ringer; Elizabeth glares. "Just testing it out," Rachel shrugs. Mark interrupts with instructions about how to care for Ella -- specifically, that Rachel must feed the baby if she wakes early from her nap. Rachel's phone sings "La Cucaracha" as she actively ignores her father. "You're sparkling," Mark notices, confused. "So?" she asks. "Are you starting a trend?" he asks. "Dad, everyone wears glitter," Rachel duhs. But not everyone wears an entire tube at once, Tinker-hell.
The Sham Van pulls up to County General, and Elizabeth hops out while promising the nurse that she'll be there in five minutes. "Good luck!" calls Mark. Walking around the van, Elizabeth stops to Mark's window (which was already open; a bit chilly this time of year to be driving with open windows, isn't it?) and calmly apologizes to Rachel for the unscheduled detour to County. Rachel shrugs and stares at her phone, her eyes widening in one of those "shut UP, already" expressions. The van starts up again as Mark inquires as to where Rachel would like him to drop her off. "How about a few blocks away?" she hedges. "I thought you were late," Mark frowns. "I am, but..." Rachel begins. Mark understands -- she doesn't want to be seen with her father. "No," lies Rachel. "It's just...you know, the van." Right. I wonder if we're going to discover that Rachel no longer attends school and uses her days to smoke crack in the equipment shed and eat industrial-strength paste.
Dr. John "I Need Backup" Carter contorts his body and brags that he isn't even breaking a sweat. Panning out, we see him at Dr. Susan "Bizarre Love Triangle" Lewis's yoga class; the good doctor tells him that aerobic exercises is secondary to the strength and balance benefits of yoga. They descend into cat and/or cow position, or cat then cow, or catcow, or cowtow, or Spongebob. They're on all fours, basically. Carter's back still hurts, so Susan insists that he needs some Tylenol. Um, don't you think he'd have thought of over-the-counter drugs already? Unless this is Tylenol: The Morphine Edition. Carter brave-little-soldiers that he avoids pain medication. "If you're going to be macho about pain, don't whine about it," Susan instructs him wryly. Susan, it must be said, looks very nice in her yoga gear -- she's wearing a t-shirt and workout pants, so it's not like she's in spandex, but if she was truly overweight it would still show. This note is for all the people who've called her fat this season. Has Shallow Hal taught us NOTHING, people? Oh, wait...no, it hasn't, save for teaching America the very important lesson that fat people are ridiculous, are fodder for all our best humor, and should be chided for feeling comfortable enough to wear shorts and bathing suits. Ahem. Anyway, Susan wonders how Gamma is doing; Carter replies that the barrage of tests indicate nothing seriously wrong with her. Susan's amazed that so many tests got done in one day. "Rich-lady service," grins Carter. They're in dog position now, forming an upside-down V, asses in the air. The instructor appears behind Carter and corrects his stance. "If it's too hard, don't push it," warns Susan. Then, as subtle as a gasoline-scented candle, Susan asks what's going on with "[him] and the nurse." Carter feigns ignorance. "Seems like there's something there," Susan says. Carter sighs that they're just friends. "You're shaking," Susan whispers, amused, as Carter's face turns purple and his limbs quiver. He sinks back down to cow position and explains that his relationship with Abby is undefined because she just broke up with Luka. "I get it," Susan decides. "You don't want to be the rebound guy." Susan sounds disgruntled throughout this exchange. It's strange. Maybe we're supposed to think she's checking for clearance to land her airplane of love on Carter's heart. Carter pops into dog position again and everyone lifts one leg, holding it aloft. Carter groans that yoga is sadistic. "Pretend like [sic] you're playing Twister," Susan offers. Given what a clusterfuck of zero-equilibrium that game is, I'm sure her advice is very helpful. "Uh oh," Carter moans. Susan asks if he's breathing, and just as he shakes his head frantically, he topples over into her. An informal poll of my stuffed animals suggests that 95% of viewers saw that coming; Lovejoy the Bear, the lone dissenter, closed his eyes as soon as he saw Mark on-screen and then just fell asleep.
The credits need to change, and soon. Who are they kidding with that shot of Anthony Edwards? He hasn't had hair in years. And Carter looks approximately twelve.
"Dear" Abby Lockhart trots over to the front desk and gripes that she has three puking patients and no emesis basins. Frank shrugs that they've got a new runner from Central Supply. "What happened to the old one?" Abby asks. "Nurses complained about not having any emesis basins," Frank grouses. He's so crusty and snide. He and Randi should have an affair, just because they have no other real function but to be, respectively, old and young. Carter and Susan walk inside, hair wet, smiling and teasing each other. "I twisted my knee in the locust position," Carter complains. Susan giggles that it's "lotus," not "locust," and Carter makes a stupid insect joke. They part company. Giggles abound.
Carter strolls toward Abby, who pointedly asks whether it's been raining. "No, Susan dragged me to a torture session..." he begins. They're interrupted by word of an apartment fire, from which a few victims will be arriving. Abby is about to clear the trauma rooms and forget the emesis basins, but Frank spies the runner and Abby bolts after her, shouting, "Hey, excuse me..." and calling for the basins and some fluid. The runner turns. Surprise! It's Neecole. "Luka got me a job," she Frenches proudly. "He did?" Abby asks pleasantly, but she's clearly gnawing an enormous hole through her cheeks. "He knew I was out of work, so he called me last week about the opening," Neecole glows. "It was so nice of him!" Abby purses her lips. "He's...nice," she teethes. Her molars are wee stumps of enamel by now. Neecole asks where the garments she's carrying should go, and Abby directs her to the linen closet, asking her for emesis basins and promising to get whatever else she needed herself. Neecole stares blankly at her. "What are those?" she asks. Lord! Isn't there a quiz? Shouldn't she know some lingo? "Barf bins," Abby explains. This still isn't enough. "Vomit buckets," she offers again. Neecole registers this and decides she can handle the task. Abby turns away, dumbfounded at the dumb Frenchie.
Elizabeth frantically tries to save her patient, the gentle Mrs. Wilson from last week. She calls for some saline, learns Mrs. Wilson's systolic blood pressure is seventy, and decides to change all the IVs and the central lines. "You did that yesterday!" accuses April, Mrs. Wilson's daughter. Calmly, Elizabeth explains that it's necessary to do it again, in case they're the source of the infection. We get a shot of Mrs. Wilson's unconscious face; she's wearing a very glossy, rich, berry-colored lipstick, and her silvery coif is intact. Kidney failure has never looked so attractive. Elizabeth assures April that the failure is reversible, but requires cardiac medications and some dialysis. "Put her on a machine?" squawks April. Elizabeth exposits, for those who don't understand the bean-shaped organ, that the kidneys aren't detoxifying Mrs. Wilson's blood properly. "No, no, if this is her time..." begins April. "It's not," Elizabeth insists. She orders Nurse Jacy to start a dopamine drip. "She's a DNR [Do Not Resuscitate], you know," Jacy points out. April sniffles that her mother never wanted to end up the way her father did, living on machines but not really alive. "I understand," Elizabeth says, still determined to ignore the girl's wishes. "April, her kidney failure is temporary. She could bounce back after treatments. It's worth trying." Carmen watches with interest, jotting down notes on Elizabeth's performance. April is totally dubious. Elizabeth is intense. Mrs. Wilson sits up and reapplies her lipstick. Finally, Elizabeth orders Jacy to call a nephrologist and a dialysis nurse. "You really want to do that?" Jacy disrespects. "Yes. Now," Elizabeth snaps.
A paramedic gives Carter and Abby the bullet on a woman caught in the fire: she jumped from the building holding her daughter, breaking the fall with her own body. "And my legs," moans the woman. Carter assesses that she's got a deformity in her right tib-fib; a fireman limps around the ambulance and promises that he took the woman's daughter -- Eden -- inside, and she's going to be okay. "I'm sorry, I know you wanted me to wait," the mother wails. "Everyone is safe," babbles the fireman. Abby grabs him. "Lean on me," she says. Wrapping an arm around his waist, she props him up, her head fitting right into his armpit for a convenient sweat-shampoo. "I don't want to crush you," he says, favoring one ankle. "That's okay, I'm used to it," Abby metas.
Inside, Neecole beams angelically at Dr. Luka "Eats Like a Meal" Kovac, as though he's a baguette and she's Camembert that's ripe for the spreading. "How is it so far?" he asks, genially. "Great," she enthuses. "Everyone is great." Frank passes, reluctantly griping, "Yeah, we like her." Neecole sweetly frets that she keeps getting lost. Damn woman manages to make everything sound lovely and pleasant. She could be saying, "I think Croatia is an accident," and Luka would find it charming. For that reason, I distrust her immensely. Luka encourages her to ask for help if she needs it. "I need some help," Abby snipes from the fireman's armpit, struggling inside with him hanging on her shoulder. Luka shoves himself under the fireman's other armpit, calling out a lunch invitation to Neecole. "You're busy!" she protests. "NO!" Luka responds too quickly, demanding that she find him at 1:30. Fireman Bob explains that he was halfway up the ladder to save Eden and her mother, but the woman panicked and jumped and they all fell down. "Can you bear weight on it at all?" Luka asks. Fireman Bob just wants some ice for it. Luka notices a few minor burns on the man's hand and decides to treat both them and the wounded ankle. Abby smirks that she might have to call Central Supply in order to get fiberglass. Luka looks guilty. "I was going to tell you," he apologizes. "Ow," explains Fireman Bob. "You thought firefighters were tough, right?" he flirts to Abby, who smiles that his secret's safe with her. Luka watches, blatantly wondering if Fireman Bob will be putting out a fire in her loins later that night.
Mark examines Eden in the green trauma room, calling for a c-spine along with chest and pelvis x-rays. We follow Conni into Mama Eden's room -- I'll call her Eve, just to be Biblical about it. Carter is tending to Eve. "Is that my daughter?" she asks, having caught a glimpse through the swinging doors. "Is something wrong?" Carter soothes her, but asks Conni to send in Dr. Greene when he has a free moment. Elizabeth bursts in, with Carmen in tow, and asks for the rundown. "Two-storey fall without LOC," Carter explains. "Multiple fractures. Who's this?" Elizabeth calmly says, "This is Carmen," as though it's the most natural thing in the world to have a leech. Elizabeth examines Eve's pupils, then orders up an ultrasound to check for internal injuries. Mark appears and comforts Eve with word that her child just scraped herself up and inhaled some smoke, but is otherwise fine. Carmen desperately tries to get a good view of the action. Elizabeth starts to examine Eve, but Carmen stops her. "You haven't cleaned your stethoscope," she notes. She's so distracting. Shouldn't that be against some kind of hospital policy that protects doctors from too many diversions? I guess that sounds like kind of a stupid rule, but I feel like it makes sense. I'd be pissed if my doctor let me bleed out on the table while she argued with Carmen about Lysoling her stethoscope. Malik and Carter exchange a "what the fuck?" look while Elizabeth holds her stethoscope in front of Carmen's face and scrubs it crabbily. During all this, Mark shares that Eden is sad that her dog ran away. Elizabeth grabs Mark and escorts him outside for a confab, telling Carter to start the ultrasound and longing to tell him to suture Carmen to some remote fencepost.
Nervously, Elizabeth whispers that Mrs. Wilson is not responding to antibiotics and is headed straight to multiple organ failure. Mark wonders whether Elizabeth tried Ampho. Haven't we all? Elizabeth shakes her head, then notices an eavesdropping Carmen. "Do you mind?" she snarls. "I'm talking with my husband!" Carmen shrinks a little, but defiantly insists that she must monitor Elizabeth at all times. I can just see Carmen sitting on her knee while Elizabeth eats, squatting right to her in the bathroom, hovering near the bed as the Greenes copulate feebly, and sanitarily, and against the laws of nature. Elizabeth loathes this grim reality, but who is she to deny a voyeur? "Fine!" she fumes. "WATCH!" She carts a helpless Mark further down the hall, out of earshot but within view. She confesses to wishing she could deck Carmen, adding that Infection Control has deemed she must be followed. "I can't lose another patient like this," she panics. "When was the last time you cleaned your stethoscope between patients?" Mark insists that Carmen is just trying to justify her job. Elizabeth should slug him for defending the enemy, but instead she checks her screaming beeper and notes that the ICU has summoned her. "Dammit!" she wails. "I can't let this happen again!" Mark calmly tells her that she can't save everyone. God, shut up, Mark. Please. Forever. You're helping no one but Satan. "I shouldn't kill everyone, either, should I?" Elizabeth correctly counters.
A deeply distressed young man tells Abby he won't show her his wound. He's sitting on a bed and grabbing his crotch, groaning. "Don't be embarrassed," she chides. He can't believe how badly he messed "it" up, and still insists that he wants to see a doctor, not a nurse. I think he meant to say "male doctor," and not to simply imply that all nurses are girls and all doctors are boys. Pretty careless line, that. "The problem is that I got a bum pair of scissors," the guy groans. Abby promises not to be shocked because she's a professional and professionals never get shocked, ever, by anything. Not even penises! "I'd never agree to this if I didn't think I might bleed to death," he says, jaw clenched. Wincing, he moves his hands. Abby does a triple-take and grimaces in fascination. "Wow!" she exclaims.
Fraulein from Gilmore Girls (or Madeline, if you watch the show but foolishly skip Pamie's recaps) sits dazedly in the hall while Susan examines her. She complains of a pain around her head, but insists it's not just a hangover headache. "I woke up achy and got chills," she says. Susan deems it the flu. "That's what he said," Fraulein notes, pointing to Stanley, who is reciting something into thin air at the front desk. Susan, surprised that Fraulein already saw Stanley, excuses herself and skips over there. "Sophomore at U of I; woke up with a hatband headache, subjective fever and myalgias," Stanley recites. Susan stops abruptly, noticing that Stanley is actually addressing Carter, who is crouched on the floor trying to work the kinks from his back and resting his head in his hands. "In this position, there's hardly any pain at all," he says. "Tylenol, I'm tellin' you," Susan insists. She's a walking product-placement today. They should've just dressed her up as a red and white capsule and made her sing a song about how Tylenol makes the world a better place. Although, it certainly makes my head a better place while I'm recapping this show. Stanley offers to help Carter's back. Susan makes Carter stand up, bend over, and take it like a man. Then she gives him a back massage. Stanley rattles off Fraulein's medical history, which is particularly uninteresting and peppered with words like "yeast" and "infection," and finally he determines that she's got a virus. "The flu, I agree," Susan nods. "Sounds like a winner. time, sign up for it, Stanley." Abby strolls past in the background while Susan kneads Carter's back, asking whether it feels good. "Not as good as squatting," he swears. Abby enters the lounge in the distance, but not before giving a long, hard look at Susan and Carter. She's not in the foreground, so it's a reasonably discreet touch -- less an anvil than a small baggie of ball-bearings.
Abby can't escape her crushes. Inside the lounge, Luka is making fresh coffee. "So, about [Neecole]..." Luka begins, uncomfortably. Abby interrupts that he really doesn't have to explain, because it's none of her business. But naturally, after a pregnant pause, she turns and breaks the silence. "It just seems like you're going out on a limb for someone you barely know," she suggests, shutting her locker. "She lost her job," Luka points out. "Is that your problem?" Abby argues. Luka figures he might as well help her. "Is she, like, your girlfriend now?" seventh-grade Abby says, tapping the Valley girl within. Like, no way! Like, Luka insists he totally just got Neecole the job to be, like, friendly, and stuff, and he so fully gives Abby coffee right here and it's like, hey, he's hot. "So it's not like she's living with you," Abby breathes, unable to hide her relief. Luka very noticeably doesn't answer her, instead looking a bit guilty again before swinging out into the reception area. Abby follows. "She's LIVING with you?" she asks, galled. Luka swears it's just until Neecole can save a bit of cash. "She's a sweet girl; I'm trying to help," he insists defensively. Abby leans against the counter and irritatedly notes that Luka shouldn't feel obliged to help everyone. Damn right. How long has he known this wench? And she's living with him now? Since when is Luka that trusting? Maybe we're supposed to think he gets off on the white-knight thing, and that's why he stayed with Abby so long -- because she's tormented -- and that's now why he's taking on Neecole. Oh, and also because the writers want to force Julie Delpy down our throats. Not being a lesbian or a straight man, I'm not too excited by this.
As she enjoys a good sulk, Abby hears Carter ask what her problem is. She peeks over the counter and catches him crouched on the other side. "Luka has a new project," she grouses. "Like what?" Carter asks cheerfully. "Coin collecting?" Heh. Abby grimaces that Luka's now into Neecole the Cookie Girl. "Why do you care?" Carter asks. "I don't," Abby lies unconvincingly. Carter just stares at her knowingly and then ditches her, which manages to come off like a pretty decent burn.
Nurse Jacy tells Elizabeth that they've got an IV drip set up for Mrs. Wilson. Elizabeth wants a crash cart nearby. "Are you sure?" questions Jacy. "Stop saying that and do as I ask!" shouts Elizabeth, irate. Benton bolts in just as Mrs. Wilson's pressure plummets, and demands to know what the hell Elizabeth is doing. In the distance, through the door through which Benton came, we see April watching tensely as her mother struggles for life. Elizabeth argues with everyone, desperate to force life down the damn woman's dying throat, but Benton orders everyone to stop. "Look out the window," he argues. "That woman wants to sit with her mother. Let her." Feebly, Elizabeth insists she can help. "No, you can't help her," Benton booms. Mrs. Wilson's machines beep something very sinister indeed, and Benton groans. Elizabeth drops her head, cringing.
Ah, Jimmy Dean. What makes a country singer wake up and want nothing more than to sell sausage in grocery stores? Couldn't he just be a Nashville pimp instead?
Returning from the break, we get the patented Nurse Walks Across The Screen Sliding Back a Curtain That Reveals One Of Our Characters shot. It's Abby and Fireman Bob. If only they'd wound a mailman, so I could recap him as Postman Pat. Sniffle. Abby checks the cast for wetness. "What do I do when my foot itches?" he frets. "Live with it," she grins, offering him water or a Popsicle to console him. Ew. I can't think about Popsicles any more without wanting to squirm and scream. I watched the Hugh Hefner roast on Comedy Central last night, and one of the "comedians" -- I use quotes because of their barely amusing sets -- alluded to Hef needing Popsicle sticks to prop up his penis during sex. So you can imagine why I'll also never touch a Fudgesicle again. Fireman Bob wants a soda and twinkles a query about whether Abby's boyfriend would be mad if he bought her one, too. Easy there, Big Spender. She manages to ignore the obvious question and just tells him she isn't thirsty, then bolts when she notices Benton heading into Crotch-Wound Willie's room.
Willie is horrified that Abby hasn't already told Benton what his injury is. "[He] tried to circumcise himself," Abby says, trying very hard to hold a straight face. Benton is startled. Willie looks ashamed. "Let's have a look," Benton says, not without hesitation. Willie unveils the crotch carnage. Benton does the same triple-take Abby did. "Look, I'm not nuts, okay?" Willie insists. The ten-year-old in me is laughing so hard at the mention of the word "nuts" in this particular case, but the regular me can't actually articulate a snappy joke. So I'm going to stick with the tried-and-true: Heh-heh, he said "nuts." Ha! Benton doesn't understand why Willie didn't just have a doctor take care of this from the beginning. "I thought I could take the pain, snip snip, done deal," he blubbers. Clearly, this person is what psychiatrists call "fucking stupid." What apparently sober man could allow something even remotely pointy and sharp near the meat log? Abby coerces him into admitting he's doing this for his neat-freak girlfriend who loathes foreskin. He wants to call her in and ask her about finishing the job, or repairing the damage. Benton agrees to help either way. Before they snicker in front of the patient, Abby and Benton flee. She asks Benton if he thinks Willie needs a Psych consult. Yes, yes, a hundred times, yes! "No, I think he's just stupid," Benton decides. "Not to mention devoted," she giggles. Benton exits quickly in search of a private back room so he can pat petit Peter and promise him all the love and tender care his hooker money can buy.
Luka treats a frail-looking guy who passed out, and whose neighbors called 911. "People can't mind their own business?" the guy snarls. He's young, a bit sallow, and seems hollow. He resembles ESPN's Kirk Herbstreit, so henceforth, he's Kirk. As Luka examines the cut in Kirk's hand, Neecole bursts into the room, early for their lunch date in the sexy cafeteria. Despite her presence being completely inappropriate, Luka not only assures her it's fine, but invites her to stay and watch. Is voyeurism seriously a sub-theme of this week's episode? Neecole has no business being in this room while Luka treats someone. Luka turns his attention to Kirk, whose blood isn't clotting properly. "I have a Factor IX deficiency," Kirk says emptily. He gets regular treatment at Children's, Kirk says, but just happened to miss that the past few times. Luka tells a nurse to check the pharmacy for the requisite amount of medicine for him. "Do they have bag lunches?" Kirk asks, addressing Neecole. She doesn't know; he flirts that some hospitals do, and flashes a huge smile at her. Luka wants to irrigate the hand, and offers to contact Kirk's parents, but the kid insists he's got nobody to call. "Let's start an IV," Luka says. "I have a porta-cath," Kirk admits, revealing a small, hard disc implanted just above his right man-breast. Luka agrees to use that for the medicine. "Couldn't stand needles every day," Kirk sags, unable to muster any energy unless Neecole is beaming down upon him with her heavily accented radiance. "I'll bring you a sandwich," she offers. "Thanks," Kirk grins.
The vending machine won't accept Abby's dollar. Susan approaches the snack machine and tries to be friendly and sympathetic. "It ate my dollar," Abby complains. Susan offers her another, but Abby had a spare and is trying desperately to buy a generic-brand Cold Drink -- possibly so she can take some Tylenol with it, to soothe all her really tough aches and pains. Susan makes a stab at conversation. "So, is it hard working with Dr. Kovac?" she asks. Abby stares at her, almost agape. It is kind of inappropriate of Susan to try this tack. They're not friends yet. It's really weird. Susan apologizes immediately, but Abby says it's fine and keeps trying to stuff her dollar into the machine. "Dating at work can be nasty," Susan PSAs. Conni interrupts to tell Abby that "the girlfriend of that guy is here." Abby isn't sure what that means. "The self-circumcision..." Conni trails off. Abby groans. She hits the machine and sulks a bit, while Susan just looks amused.
Elizabeth sneaks into the morgue. Dr. Upton, the pathologist, yanks mushy, bright-red organs from Mrs. Wilson's belly and plops them onto a scale. "Your patient?" she asks. Elizabeth nods. "Bad luck you've had," clucks Dr. Upton. She exposits, at Lizzie's request, that there's no abscesses or obvious sites of infection, but promises to check thoroughly and in spots specific to the operation Elizabeth performed. Elizabeth looks at Mrs. Wilson's perfect makeup and sighs, "She was a nice woman." Dr. Upton decides to announce that she doesn't agree with the rumors flying around about how motherhood -- the breastfeeding and sleep deprivation -- has interfered with her work. "That's sexist crap," she spits. Elizabeth is startled to hear that people have been so callous. "Well, it's not a woman's world, is it?" she says sadly. Dr. Upton replies, "Not until they perfect cloning." Carmen charges inside and brats that she thought Elizabeth had gone to the bathroom. "I'll let you know what I find," Dr. Upton says sympathetically, arching an eyebrow.
Willie's girlfriend can't believe he hacked up his penis. He protests that he was only listening to her needs, but she whines that it's just such an extreme action. Benton is tired of this, wanting a final decision about whether to repair the foreskin or remove it. "Whatever's less traumatic," Whiny McFusspants insists, shooting concerned looks at Willie, who decides he'll just finish up what he started. Whiny seems very, very unnerved, grabbing Abby and demanding a private consultation. Willie is stranded, lost and alone and with a giant gash in his dick -- always a pathetic situation.
Whiny wants to make sure Willie will be okay. "This should never have happened," she says, wringing her hands. Abby is confused, because Willie claimed that Whiny wanted his penis to be flap-free. "Not really," she gulps. "I only wanted to break up, and didn't want to hurt his feelings." So she insulted his prized weapon instead. That's smart.
Malik yells for Abby, who joins Susan at the gurney of a guy who apparently collapsed. His roommate is fairly sure he never took drugs. "He drank at the party, but he was okay...now he's sick and his neck hurts," the guy exposits. Susan heaves him onto the exam table. The kid's complexion is waxen. Susan feels he's feverish and calls for a rectal thermometer, but Abby cries out that the boy has petechiae on his arm. She holds up the hand, which is covered with little red nicks. "They don't blanch," she worries. Susan flips out. "This is meningococcus," she pales, yelling for someone to prep post-exposure medicine for everyone in the area and panicking that the disease could be rampaging through his dorm at U of I by now. She wants Carter immediately, and Abby bolts to find him.
Carter is stretched out somewhere dark, letting Stanley pierce his lower back with acupuncture needles. Finally, Stanley gets his dream: to fondle Carter's skin. He only offered to tend his bruised nads, what, three times? Four? Abby bursts in and delivers the dangerous news, so Stanley yanks out the pins.
"Meningococcemia?" Carter asks, bursting into the yellow trauma room with a few buttons of his blue shirt undone and his tie swinging loose around his neck. Somebody get this kid a bottle of scotch wrapped in a brown paper bag. Susan wants to intubate, so he prepares to do it while she wonders aloud whether Fraulein also went to U of I. Stanley confirms this, adding that Fraulein was discharged because they deemed her a flu case. Susan shits enough bricks to build a house. "We need to find her," Carter booms. Susan sprints off to find her as Carter orders Abby to prep a Swan-Ganz catheter. She can't find one. "Nothing's where it's supposed to be," she complains.
Susan learns that Frank sent Fraulein to the cafeteria and runs off in that direction, bumping in to Luka and Neecole. "Slow down!" he scolds idiotically, mad that someone interrupted his little romantic stroll through the corridors of death. They giggle together inanely while Abby frantically searches through nearby supply racks. "Where'd you put the Swan-Ganz catheters?" she begs Neecole, who naturally has no idea what the hell those are. Abby repeats herself slowly. "They told me in the trauma room," Neecole offers. "Well, they're not there," Abby sighs, grabbing Neecole and pleading with her to show them exactly where she thinks they are. Luka follows.
Carter is dismayed when Abby returns sans Swan-Ganz, but Neecole rummages for two seconds and then brandishes one triumphantly. "No," Carter seethes, speaking in a controlled, clipped tone. "That is the introducer." He'd like to introduce his foot to her nose. Abby clarifies patiently that the item in question resembles a big yellow snake. Neecole points frantically at Carter's pants and hollers, "It's in there!" Abby corrects, "I said a big yellow snake." Carter seethes that Neecole should just forget about it. "Call Central," he barks. "Get me someone who knows the difference." Luka defends Neecole, because it's her first day on the job, but his argument is fundamentally flawed because she obviously wasn't qualified. "This kid is dying here!" Carter yells. Neecole freezes, apologizing quietly. "Don't apologize," fumes Carter. "If you don't know what you're doing, then just get the hell outta here." Luka finds the catheter. "Don't yell at her," he says quietly. Carter's face begins to turn purple. "We're losing time here," he says through gritted teeth. "It's not her fault he's sick," Luka assholes, escorting Neecole out of the room. But it is her damn French fault that it took ten minutes to find a simple tube. Carter shakes his head, angry but swallowing it.
Susan scans the cafeteria diners frantically, but spies no one resembling Fraulein. She curses and jogs the length of the hall toward the camera, a totally unnecessary shot of jiggling jumblies that basically exists to give the producers a big giggle about women and their boobies and the bouncing. It's awkward. Outside, Fraulein strolls casually toward the street corner; Susan spots her through the window and hammers it vigorously with her fist, but what with all the ambient -- and ambulance -- noise outside, clearly Fraulein is never going to hear her. Finally, Susan finds a door and leans out screaming, "Hold on! Stay right there!" Fraulein turns, acknowledges the good doctor and stands still as sirens wail around her.
Radio Shack desperately needs to retire Teri Hatcher and Howie Long. They could not be more annoying together, and she could not make women look any dumber.
Benton is on the scrub-room phone with Roger, who we don't see, but it's made plain that Jackie didn't return Reese in time for the birthday party. "Take it up with her," Benton growls. "I don't have time." Um, it's your son, Benton, you weed. Make time. "Nanny?" Elizabeth asks, arriving to clean up for a surgery. "No, Roger -- my new shadow," grouses Benton. Elizabeth smirks. "He should meet Carmen," she says quietly, just as the leech in question enters. Benton and Elizabeth share a suppressed chuckle. They're not exactly crackling, but they have more chemistry in two lines than she and Mark could put into two thousand. Kind of makes me annoyed that Eriq La Salle only wanted Benton to date black women and therefore demanded that Elizabeth and Peter split. They compare surgeries: Benton is fixing Willie's willie, and Elizabeth is performing a splenectomy -- on Eve, I believe, although it's not made clear. Leaning toward Pee-tah, Elizabeth apologizes for her behavior with Mrs. Wilson. "I thought I could beat the odds," she laments. Benton understands that she's stressed out, what with the baby and all. She bristles. "What's that have to do with it?" she snipes, picking nervously at her nails so as to ditch all that infectious finger lint before surgery. "Not to mention the head-trip that's going on around here," Benton continues, oblivious. "My fuse would be short, too." Urgently, Elizabeth begs him to tell her honestly whether he's noticed her being sloppy or lazy. He hasn't, and insists that if he or Reese needed an operation, he'd feel totally comfortable coming to her. Okay, here's my latest fantasy -- they drag the Elizabeth is Dangerous story into February sweeps, at which time she is forced to operate on Mark and she or her death angel kicks his bucket in gruesome style. That's going on my Christmas list.
Andy, our Meningitis Boy, is deteriorating. The telltale marks dot his face now, and Abby holds up his blackened, infected hand and announces that there's no place to put the pulse ox. "God, this kills fast," Susan freaks, bolting into Fraulein's room. Carter seizes the crash cart and charges it to 300. No dice. He ups the charge to 360 and cheers him on, but to no avail.
Fraulein gets fluid drawn from her spine, wincing at the pain. She wants to call her mother in Omaha, which Susan promises to do as soon as they're done. "Is he going to be okay?" Fraulein asks of Andy. She reveals that he's a major soccer star and stud, known campus-wide as the king of the in-crowd. They hooked up at a party last night. "Did you kiss anyone else?" worries Susan, explaining that Andy contracted a very serious bacterial infection. Fraulein sasses that she prefers to kiss one guy per night. "Do you think Andy shares the same policy?" Susan asks urgently. In a word, no. In two words, yeah RIGHT. And in three words, is she serious? Susan peers through the door-glass at Carter, who meets her eye and shakes his head in frustration and hopelessness. But she's distracted by Stanley, who shows Susan that the meningococcus marks have manifested themselves on Fraulein's feet. Susan holds her forehead in anxiety.
Kirk complains that he absolutely can't pay the medical bill; Luka reassures him that half his patients can't pay, either, which absolutely makes it okay for the youth of today to scam hospitals for free treatment. Go now, and get free morphine! Kirk flatly insists he doesn't know where he'll be or whether he'll be able to get a follow-up checkup. Luka busts him for drugs, announcing that Kirk tested positive for opiates. "My joints bleed, and it hurts," Kirk says defensively. Luka wants to know what he does. "Demerol, if I can get it," admits Kirk. "And if not, heroin?" Luka quizzes harshly. He deduces that Kirk abuses the implanted catheter, using it to dump heroin into his bloodstream. "That's not what a porta-cath is for," he notes helpfully. Well, fuck. There's no point to it, then. Luka wants to discuss rehab, but Kirk bristles and rips out all the tubes, prepared to leave. To make him stay, Luka begs him just to stick around long enough to get his hand sutured. Neecole enters with a ham-and-cheese sandwich and some fruit, which thrills Kirk. "Wait here," Luka instructs. "I need another suture kit." Neecole, as is her wont, obediently follows him out.
Curiously, Neecole presses Luka for information about Kirk's case, then balks when he admits he's planning to remove the implanted catheter. Luka changes the subject by apologizing for Carter's behavior in the trauma room, which is bullshit because Carter was justifiably upset that the equipment shelves were in shambles and under the administration of a doofus. Neecole argues that Kirk will obviously find another way to do drugs if he's so intent on getting high, but Luka insists he can't allow it to stay if it's being abused. Neecole stops walking and gazes at Luka's back, mischief and misdeeds percolating in her boring blonde head.
Susan telephones Fraulein's parents while Carter tells Stanley to bag her. Presumably, Andy kicked off, soccer-related pun not intended. At first. Malik is frustrated that they've pumped her full of all the possible antibiotics. "It's a waiting game now," Susan sighs. Stanley energetically pumps the plastic bulb on Fraulein's oxygen mask.
"I missed her," Susan complains morosely, strolling the halls with Carter. "I did, too," he offers. "You didn't see her," Susan nails him. They arrive at a pharmacy counter and down a few pills that will apparently help block them from catching meningitis. Carter explains that he contacted the University of Illinois and instructed the health center to pass out antibiotics to everyone in Andy's dorm. That means everyone will get penicillin, a leaflet, and a pat on the ass. Susan frets that dorm-party hedonism spread it beyond those walls, but Carter assures her that word-of-mouth will take care of any other potential cases. Or create widespread panic, but maybe that Very Special Episode will be saved for sweeps. They pass Abby, who Carter orders to give 600 mg of Rifampin to anyone who came into contact with Andy. "It made me sick last time," she bitches for no logical reason. "That's better than dead," Carter says brusquely, never stopping.
Abby would've been annoyed, but she was en route to Fireman Bob, who distracts her. "Sorry, I got busy," she says. He wants to know when she finishes her shift. "One more hour," Abby says wistfully. Fireman Bob throws caution to the wind and invites her out for coffee, but she refuses. He assumes she has a boyfriend, but she hesitates. "You don't know?" he asks. "I don't know," she confesses. I can clear that up -- I've been watching, and she most definitely doesn't. "But thank you," Abby adds before leaving.
Elizabeth and Edson pick away at Eve's abdomen. Carmen stands right behind Elizabeth and cranes her neck to get a good clear view of the gross action. She's such a leech. She might as well go ahead and fellate Elizabeth's shoulder-blade. Cranky, Elizabeth demands that Carmen step off and give her breathing room, but Carmen insists she must have a clear view of the procedure at all times. "Careful," snipes Edson. "Mommy's watching." Edson and Romano are clearly secret brothers. Or lovers. Carmen scoots around the side, knowing better than to argue with an angry hellion holding a scalpel. After some elaborate work with vessels and lap pads, Elizabeth yanks out the spleen and dumps it in a metal dish held up by the circulating nurse. Her hand jerks downward as she drops it, enough to pique Carmen's unease. "Did you touch the circulating nurse?" she gasps. Elizabeth rolls her eyes. "For God's sake, of course not," she spits. "It looked close," insists Carmen feebly. Steaming, Elizabeth demands that Carmen piss off and die. When Carmen won't, Elizabeth demands that Shirley call Security to escort the Infection Control lackey away. "Are you serious?" Shirley asks, oozing disbelief. "Catfight pending," grins Edson. Before we get any saucy kicking and screaming, though, another nurse arrives and tells Elizabeth that Romano has requested her presence in his office. She refuses, but apparently, Romano doesn't care if she's in the middle of surgery or twiddling her thumbs on the toilet. "I'll take that spleen," Edson says pleasantly. Angrily, Elizabeth hands it off and storms past Carmen. "Don't follow me," she threatens.
Feeling particularly self-righteous about his duties, Frank complains to Benton that he really shouldn't be expected to take all his phone messages. Both Roger and Jackie called. This little triangle of ire fatigues Peter, so he decides to check on Willie's wee winkie. Near his room, Abby is consoling Whiny, telling her Willie will be ready to rumble in another week, but must be let down gently if she insists on dumping him. "I didn't want to hurt him," Whiny alleges. Benton orders her to march right up to him and confess her true intentions. "I backed over a guy's cat one time and I stayed two more weeks," Abby argues. "[This has] gotta be worth at least three." Ha. Benton doesn't want to deal with any of this crap, so he leaves in a huff. "I'm bad at relationships," squeaks Whiny. "I can never say what I feel." Abby nods. She knows whereof Whiny speaks. Her brain hamster jumps off the wheel, changes Abby's lightbulb, and starts running again just as a spark flickers in her eyes.
Elizabeth, angry as ever, enters Dr. Robert "Rah, Rah, Bitch Boom-Bah" Romano's office in mid-tirade, irate that he yanked her from surgery. She shuts up the minute she Edwin Bane of the Cook County Health Department. "So it's an investigation now?" she says quietly. The Bane of her Existence evasively compliments her awesome and baffling string of patient deaths. "Did something turn up in the cultures?" she asks, worried. No. And Carmen hasn't reported any problems with her technique, except perhaps for all the fire she breathes. "We're looking at other theories," Bane states. Elizabeth swears she'd have fixed the problem by now, if only she knew what it was. Bane announces that his step will be a formal criminal inquiry, citing the fact that all four dead patients were elderly people in marginal health, and suggesting that at least one of them preferred euthanasia to surgery. Elizabeth denies this, but Bane cites Mrs. Tanzi from "Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magic." She insists they had a quality-of-life discussion, but never referenced pulling the plug, and resents his accusatory tone. Dryly, Bane notes Elizabeth wouldn't be the first wannabe Angel of Mercy, deliberately putting patients out of their misery and trying to cover her tracks. Frowning, Romano intercedes. He thought this was a fact-finding chat. "If there's something you want to tell us, you should tell us now," Bane intones dramatically. "Like what -- that I'm going around with a syringe full of bacteria and infecting these people on purpose?" she stammers, amazed. Bane's silence is very pointed. Frustrated, she turns to Romano, who waits a very uncomfortable beat before rising, slamming his hands on the desk, and booming, "All right, that's it." Bane warns Elizabeth to hire counsel, then leaves as requested. Her arms crossed, Elizabeth scowls helplessly at Romano, who shakes his head. I debated this with my roommate, and we both think Romano's timing seemed suspicious there, like he knew that meeting would end the way it did, but wanted to unnerve Elizabeth anyway -- and play the part of the supportive boss. His anger, basically, didn't seem organic so much as timed.
Eden scribbles away on a piece of paper. "Is that your dog?" Neecole asks gently, perched to her in the waiting room. "Yeah, Speedy," she mourns. "He's lost." Abby approaches with a smile. "Did somebody order crayons?" she asks. Eden is a cute little thing, so I can only presume her mother will expire week. Maybe Mark and Elizabeth can adopt her and fuck her up beyond repair. Abby politely, but without interest, asks whether Neecole has finished her shift. "I'm waiting for Luka," Neecole lilts. Silently, Abby turns to keep from unleashing her fangs in front of the French waif. Neecole decides to try worming her way into Abby's heart, slathering her in saccharine comments about how she deeply admires Abby for being a nurse. "I always wanted to be a nurse," she says dreamily. "At the hospital where my mother died, the nurses treated me like I was their daughter. They gave me ice cream and dolls to play with. They were like angels." As Neecole flags down a passing bridge salesman, Abby's expression bespeaks the cavities forming on her every tooth. Luka saves her from further mouth decay, approaching to ask whether anyone has seen Kirk. "I talked to him an hour ago," Neecole offers. It seems Kirk has disappeared. "You finished stitching his hand, right?" Neecole asks, a tinge of nervousness in her face. Luka explains that Adele, the social worker, was slated to see him afterward. "Maybe he didn't want to get that tube removed," Neecole suggests. Luka freezes. He never told Kirk he wanted to yank the catheter. Abby bites her tongue as Neecole swears semi-convincingly that she didn't mention anything about it to Kirk, and reassures Luka that Kirk will be fine. "He's on the street with a disease and no money," argues Luka, confirming that Neecole's opinion is worth about as much as a used tampon.
At Valium Villa, poor baby Greene is screaming because her dose is long overdue. Metal music blares from behind Rachel's closed door; alarmed, Elizabeth rushes upstairs to calm the baby. "It's okay, honey," she coos, cuddling her daughter. "I know. Oh, it's all right, darling." Wow. A maternal instinct. It dissipates once she remembers that Rachel is an evil little troll. Elizabeth marches downstairs into the hell-child's room and screams for her to get off the phone and switch off the infernal racket. "Two seconds," Rachel waves her off. Elizabeth smacks down the stereo volume, so Rachel obnoxiously informs her telephone pal, "My dad's wife is freaking," and hangs up. "What's wrong?" she asks obliviously. "You're supposed to be babysitting," rants Elizabeth. "I am," Rachel says, painting her toenails in a marked display of disrespect. She doesn't much care that Ella was screaming loud enough to wake Elizabeth's dead patients. Of course, Rachel hasn't fed the tyke, but tantrums her way into the kitchen in a grandiose display of oxymoronic defiant-obedience. Elizabeth commences a very rational lecture about responsibility and selflessness. "I didn't hear her crying," brats Rachel. "You weren't listening," insists Elizabeth. "You were listening to that crap and talking to your friend!" Rachel shrieks that if Elizabeth is so worried about Ella, she should bloody well stay at home and care for her. Elizabeth retorts that she made the mistake of trusting Rachel to be responsible and handle it for an hour or two every now and again. Elizabeth: "Warm up that milk." Rachel: "No." Elizabeth: "Now!" Rachel: "She's your kid." Elizabeth: "You're living in my house." Edson: "Catfight pending!" So many shiny silver clips hold back Rachel's gnarled mane that her skull looks made of metal. Elizabeth should polarize the brat and hang her from the fridge like a magnet. Rachel refuses to be ordered around, despite the obvious seniority of her stepmother. "Boy, my Dad sure can pick 'em!" Rachel snarls maliciously. Elizabeth exhibits uncharacteristic control, heaving, "Rachel, you do not want to battle with me. You'll lose. I guarantee it." The Brat from Satan's Pustules storms out of the house to infect someone else's life.
Susan lingers at Fraulein's bedside. Mark enters and jokes, "Shift's over, isn't it? What, are you a med student again?" Susan sent Stanley home, preferring to preside over her patient personally while providing me ample alliterative possibilities. "I loved being this age," she says wistfully. "Having a crush on a guy, finally meeting him at a party. She probably went home all excited, wondering what would happen ." Or wondering if anyone saw, why her bra is swinging from her left ear, and whether he'll dump her week for that slutty girl on the fourth floor who did all his soccer buddies. Mark posits that Fraulein could yet live. A nurse interjects to notify Susan that a caller from Omaha is waiting to speak with her. The docs bid each other farewell.
Roger and Benton fight outside about Reese. Benton complains that he has a hundred things to do during the day and didn't have time to go to Roger's place, so Mohammed had to go to the mountain. Roger loathes the implication that work takes precedence over Reese, but Benton says his gripe is not Reese, but being asked to spend time refereeing spats between Roger and Jackie. "I was twenty minutes late, and she used that as an excuse" to fuck up his day with Reese. Quietly, Benton suggests that the visitation situation has grown too complicated of late. "Jackie is his aunt," he notes. "And I'm his father!" roars Roger, but he backs down and amends it to "one of his fathers" once Benton makes it apparent that this angers him deeply. Peter tersely thanks Roger for caring for Reese, but says the transition time is over. "You need to let go," he says. Roger implores Benton to reconsider his words, reasserting his commitment to making their schedules click. "Reese has one father, and it's ME," Benton says flatly. "We both know that's not true," Roger fires back. Oh no, he did NOT just go there. Heh. About time someone resurrected that one. Roger reminds us that Carla was so slutty that neither Roger nor Peter sired Reese. As such, Roger takes issue with being treated like he's less important. Peter warns Roger to stay away from Reese and stop calling, because he'll never see Reese again.
Abby and Carter stroll around near the hospital, the latter speculating that acupuncture alleviated his backache. "Needles in your back?" she asks. "It was a bonus," he jokes. Abby flirts that she didn't realize he was a masochist, and maybe she should run home and get her whip. Carter snickers, but doesn't bite. Well, not other people, at least. She also bats her eyelashes and implies that she stuck around an extra few minutes just for him. "I got asked out by a fireman today," she offers pointedly. "Really?" Carter says politely. They banter a bit about the man's good looks and Abby's general studliness. "Invite me to the nuptials," Carter snarks immaturely. Abby sighs and stares at him a second before pleading with him to help her out with all this, and making a snide comment about rubbing his back -- alluding, no doubt, to Susan's earlier massage. "I said no [to the fireman] because I was waiting for something to happen with us," she says, looking confident that Carter will whip out his private rifle and commence the hunt. "You've been waiting?" Carter queries, astonished. "You weren't doing much to move it forward." Abby arrogantly explains that she digested Carter's ultimatum and did exactly what he asked, and he's done nothing to keep up his side of the bargain. Carter, clearly amused, disgruntled, and feeling lingering lust, wonders what she thinks he asked of her. "I broke up with Luka!" she insists. Carter completely calls her bluff, aware not only that she didn't end things with Luka for him, but that she didn't actually initiate the breakup. "Really? I'm pretty sure I did," Abby brats. She and Rachel should go for coffee week and swap notes. Abby's being awfully presumptuous and she's making it extremely easy for Carter to throw her asinine suggestion right in her face. He accuses her of caring too much about Luka's love life, claiming she and Luka have too much history that's too raw right now. "Yeah, I had a life before John Carter," Abby snaps. "If you want someone with no history, you'll have to find yourself a virgin." Carter counters that he'd simply settle for a person who isn't hung up on somebody else. Abby shakes her head ruefully, annoyed and masking some disappointment. "You don't have to settle for anything, Carter," she says, inexplicably assuming that she has a right to feel wronged in this scenario. Carter just tips back his head and snickers into the night air.
Mark enters Valium Villa and tells a worried Elizabeth that Rachel is with Andrew, who promised to return the craphead by 10. He sits to his wife and soothingly confirms that Bane's accusations were shockingly unfounded and out of line. Elizabeth can't fathom that anyone is accusing her so directly of homicide. And she can't help feeling guilty, which baffles her even more. Mark should know what that feels like. But Elizabeth can't shake her discomfort about not being able to pinpoint the source of her patients' deaths, blaming herself for the spat with Rachel by deciding that she unfairly took out her frustrations on a fourteen-year-old. Yeah, a fourteen-year-old wench who is a horrible, horrible black hole of humanity. Mark agrees with her that Rachel's behavior was disappointing. "It's worth a conversation, and I'll have it with her," he promises. "I don't think I can handle this, Mark," Elizabeth chokes. "I was barely handling working and looking after the baby." She bursts into tears and rests her head against her brother-husband's shoulder. Mark pats her and vows to hire a lawyer for her if necessary, and to lay down rigid rules for the brat he helped conceive. "Oh, God," Elizabeth wails, aware that her life is a total bummer. Mark pretends that he's sagacious and smart and that his words will comfort Elizabeth -- basically, he explains that they're very lucky to live in a state where siblings can marry and support each other through such hard times. "That's a lot," he simpers, kissing the top of her head.
Fraulein's eyelids flutter. Susan notices, and although her face is mostly hidden behind a surgical mask, it's obvious she beams in total relief. "Hey!" she whispers. "I called your mom. She's flying in. You had us a little worried." This scene fades us out of the episode, which is really weird because I don't care that much about Fraulein's meningitis and it feels like the directors forgot to put it elsewhere and so shoved it at the end to flesh out the last fifteen seconds.
week, Elizabeth believes she's found her saboteur, while Susan's and Carter's relationship supposedly deepens.