Previously on ER: Carter's frosty mom showed up at Gamma's house and refused to leave, claiming she won't let her estranged husband Jack "Stephen Keaton" Carter break up the family. Carter yelled at her for being a lousy mother. Rachel got Mark to admit that he doesn't trust her. Sandy found out Kerry remains closeted at work, and ditched her at a hockey game.
Abby Lockhart snuggles up in her bed, trying to drown out her sparring neighbors, Joyce and Brian (formerly Matthew; I'm giving in and using his character name). He screams that he heard voices at 3 AM and wants to know why; Joyce claims she was watching the Home Shopping Network. Which has to be true, because no one would ever admit that unless under duress. "Don't lie!" screams Brian. Thumping ensues. Joyce begs him to stop. "Someone help me," she wails. Brian suggests that she shut her silly mouth. She doesn't. More thumping. Yelping. Abby shuffles out of bed, flashes a concerned look at the ceiling, and wishes she hadn't taped over that Afterschool Special, Knuckle Sandwich: Would You Like A Side of Love With That? We hear a scream...
...and Mark Greene opens his eyes wondering if Rachel has finally met with blessed doom. He creeps downstairs, and finds that she's just sitting up watching Attack of the Killer Tomatoes. Which is the movie of my nightmares, because tomatoes are evil, and I know they're all out there being horrible and red and plotting my destruction and that of our entire race. Don't trust them. They don't like you. Rachel says she got up for a late-night snack of chips and peanut butter; both are glories sorely wasted on an ungrateful brat like her. Mark ass-plants to her and demands a taste. Rachel contentedly hands him the Jif and a bowl of chips, pretty out of character for a girl who's acted like she'd rather snort paint than hang out with her father. And who could blame her? Mark fondly recalls getting up at 5:30 AM to watch The Smurfs with her. ["What?! That was on when I was a kid." -- Wing Chun] "Seems like last week," he sighs. Rachel isn't that interested. "We need some milk," Mark decides, heading for the kitchen. He stops dead when he sees her boots, crusted with fresh mud. Suspiciously, Mark asks Rachel if she was out. "I went for a walk," she says glibly. "At 3 AM?" he gapes. "It's the only time I can," Rachel replies. So stupid. She's grounded, so she sneaks out at 3 AM out of an irrepressible urge to left-right-left her way around the block? Sure. Mark is pissed, as is Rachel, who complains about being under house arrest. "You talk to my teachers, you screen my calls, search my room -- which even my guidance counselor considers totally uncool," Rachel rants. "It's like living in prison." Elizabeth shouts out Mark's name. "And here comes the warden," snits Rachel under her breath. Mark -- master parent and king of the comeback -- sputters, "Hey!"
As Elizabeth staggers downstairs, Rachel demands to be treated "like a thinking person" for once. Honey, you've had your chance, and you've proven you don't ever think. Remember when you wanted to live with Mark? That was the first clue. Elizabeth tries to wrap her fatigued mind around the argument. Mark wants Rachel to use better judgment. Rachel brats that she obviously wasn't thinking clearly when she chose to move here -- thanks, yes, we knew it -- and flounces off to her room when Mark switches off the movie. "I'm calling Mom," she cries. "I'm moving back to St. Louis." Mark swears it won't be that easy. "Why? You don't want me here anyway!" Rachel yells. Elizabeth hisses, "Quiet, you'll wake the..." Ella begins to cry. "...baby," she moans, defeated. The Valium Villa marrieds swap frustrated glances.
Abby is now huddled outside on the front steps of her apartment building. She's called the police on Joyce and Brian, both of whom are outside near the parked patrol car. A cop approaches Abby and calmly tells her that her complaint is now on record, but that Joyce refuses to file one. The woman played it off as though she and Brian just had a minor squabble over a lost shoe, or a burned casserole, or talked calmly and scientifically about how much force his fist needs to knock Joyce off her ass. Dumbfounded, Abby watches Brian guide his wife gently upstairs. "You must have really thin walls," he smiles to Abby. She can't believe this bullshit.
The Cold House. Eleanor Carter grabs the whistling kettle off the stove. The kettle has become quite the overused prop on the ER set -- almost every single time TPTB want to convey that it's morning, they whip out the kettle and make it sing. Carter sleepily arrives downstairs and grabs a mug. "You don't drink coffee," Eleanor comments. "I remember you hating coffee." Carter sighs, "When I was fifteen." Eleanor plasters a smile on her face and brightly offers to make her son breakfast, as if proving she's such a good mother that she's deigning to do the servants' job. Carter snorts and can't hide his shock. "Momentary weakness," she enunciates. "Take advantage." It's very hard for me to listen to this. Her voice is my enemy. Then, with a none-too-subtle air of desperation, Eleanor pumps Carter like a trombone for information about Stephen. Since she lacks her ex's number and is enormously childish, Eleanor wants Carter to call Stephen on her behalf, or perhaps write him a really heartfelt note -- "Do you want to sleep over tonight? Circle one: Yes/ No/ Maybe/ Ask my mother/ Only if you make brownies." Carter's not in the mood for fourth-grade heroics. "Better yet, the three of us could dip ourselves in a vat of acid," he suggests. Eleanor flinches. That sounds eerily reminiscent of her wedding night. "We made mistakes," she stammers. "I made mistakes, I know. But I don't believe that it's too late to fix it." Carter just stares at her.
Abby runs into Joyce at the mailboxes and tries to avoid making conversation. Joyce thwarts that effort. "I know we argue a lot," Joyce apologizes sweetly. "We didn't mean to bother you." Abby points out that, due to Joyce's plentiful screams for help, she only did what was requested of her. "Brian and I have been together since high school," she offers. "There's a lot of history, and a lot of passion." And bloody noses. Abby obviously loathes this thin explanation. Joyce ignores this and blithely takes her leave.
Exiting on Joyce's heels, Abby watches the woman limp painfully down the front steps. "Is it your ankle?" she calls out knowingly. Joyce purses her lips, twists them into a false smile, and chirps that she's just fine, brushing off Abby's offer of help. Abby watches her new friend stagger away, awash in Egyptian river water.
Susan and Carter arrive at the hospital together, the former playing devil's advocate and suggesting how hard life must be for Eleanor right now, what with the divorce and the crow's feet and the way her voice sounds like a thousand pieces of chalk scraping the blackboard in protest. Carter isn't buying it, even with all his family riches. He makes a flip comment to the effect that Susan hasn't met his mother yet, and it has an air of "And you never will." And the writers are all, "Thank God he said it like that, because we had no idea where to go with this crappy relationship." Susan hands off a coffee to Mark, and she and Carter go about getting dolled up in their lab coats and milling around Reception. Mark, meanwhile, is on the phone trying to reach Vulcan Jen about the possibility of kicking Rachel to the curb.
Kerry Weaver and our favorite med student, Michael Gallant, take the foreground. They're gabbing about a gallbladder patient Gallant managed to book for surgery; Weaver's very impressed at his smooth talking. "I have Attendings that can't turf a stable patient to surgery," she lauds. Susan waits until Weaver disappears and then giggles, "Someone's a teacher's pet." Frank hands Susan some paperwork and adds, "Rumor is, somebody's about to be promoted to Hall Monitor." Mark hangs up the phone. The world yawns. Susan decides Weaver must just have a crush on the dashing lad, who blushes and stammers that Weaver might just like him because he's doing well on his rotation. "Whatever it takes," Mark winks. Sigh. Why can't it take seventeen blows to Mark's noggin? "Michael!" Weaver yells. "Have you ever seen erythema multiformae?" Gallant gets hot and bothered by the sheer number of syllables and the very Latinness of it all -- that is the original Romance language -- and hightails it toward Weaver, panting and drooling. "So it's 'Michael' now?" Carter teases.
Chuny hands Mark the chart for a forty-two-year-old prisoner with a stab wound, and he hands it off to Susan because the medics are wheeling in another case right that second. "She's great with inmates," Mark says. Hey, that was insensitive, if he's talking about Sobriki. Know what? I just reread this paragraph and decided the recap could easily do without that information, except that it makes Mark look stupid, so I left it in and laughed. And laughed. Laughed.
Mark latches onto the gurney of one David Zachary, beaten up in a bar brawl at an after-hours hip-hop club. They try calling him "David," but he won't answer to that name. "He goes by 'Dimon Z [sic],'" sasses his girlfriend Aisha. Sassy Aisha also has a sassy fuschia coat. Dimon complains of chest pains, and "the twins is mopin' man. I got some serious jug damage. My boyyzzz hurt." Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. Mark wheels him into Trauma Yellow and investigates his wounds. Dimon tries to wiggle his toes and moans, "Awww, daaaamn, that killzzzz!" Carter notices that Aisha's lip is split and asks how it happened. "Some bitch with a ring," she enunciates, and when quizzed as to why Dimon got attacked, she replies, "Bunch of thugs looking to crank a name." She's trying to put on the accent, but it's faker than Michael Jackson. This actress has never so much as smelled the ghetto. Carter's impressed to learn that a "major label" signed Dimon Z a month ago, and hands Aisha off to Chuny for treatment.
Again, Weaver tests Gallant on some medical stuff related to a patient they're jointly treating. It goes on too long. Frank mercifully interrupts to announce that Sandy Lopez returned Kerry's call. Weaver, clearly affected, tries to hide her distraction. Chuny recognizes the name. "The hot one?" Malik pants. "The gay one?" chuckles Chuny. Malik refuses to believe it, so as Kerry listens in mortification, Chuny tells a story about how her cousin Rico lusted for Sandy but Sandy never looked twice at him. "I've seen your cousin, Rico and I don't blame her," snorts Malik. Kerry blinks back her tears and seeks an escape route. Frank tells her Sandy will be stopping by before her shift starts. Interested, Chuny asks if they're friends; Weaver tries to play it off as a professional relationship, because she treated someone in Sandy's unit, fifteen-foot fall, blah blah femur fracture, blah denial blah head trauma, blah bling blee hot sex. She grabs Gallant as a way of changing the subject. Frank, meanwhile, notices the just-arrived and already-harried Abby. "Abby, are you okay?" he wonders with genuine concern. "You look a little...tired." She thanks him sarcastically.
Susan greets her patient, Kinney, who allegedly got jumped in the holding area because he'll be testifying against a lifer. "I didn't snitch," moans the half-conscious Kinney. "I was subpoenaed." She steers him into Trauma Green. "You're beautiful," he leers. "Thank you," Malik says. Hee. Susan wants to push meds, but Kinney decides to be all stereotypical about it and begs for her to let him marinate in his pain because "it reminds me I'm still alive," because he's a prisoner and the anal rape makes him feel dead inside. Abby, on command, trots to Trauma Yellow to get the narc keys from Yosh.
Trauma Yellow. Homeboy on a slab. Yosh tells Dimon that he'll be getting a tube in his penis to test his urine. "Oh, you are so wrong," writhes Dimon. Yosh explains that they're checking for traces of blood, and Dimon begs just to pee in a cup. He calls them "dawg," because he's rough around the edges. Carter shows up again to help out, mostly so that his father can call, and Carter can make Chuny take a message. Abby runs in asking for Fentanyl, and the camera's so far away from Carter that we can only presume he's quelled the drug cravings, or else we'd have gotten a full thirty seconds of his pained expression and the Brow Sweat of the Damned. Abby finds nothing and runs out again. Yosh pops up with a beaker of urine, and points out that it's very cloudy, so Mark orders up a new panel of tests. Susan arrives looking for Abby, and inexplicably stays to lend a hand. Chuny tells Carter that his father is flying to New Orleans at three, and will call Carter once he's safely on the ground. Carter looks wounded, then catches Susan's pitying eye. "What?" he asks defensively, steeling himself.
Weaver picks up a telephone. Apparently Gallant is trying to make up for being so weak last week, because he's latched on to Kerry, and does nothing but talk to her about various patients. This time, he's pushing for a head CT in a case where Weaver is content to stick with an outpatient workup. Weaver gets rid of him, then gets through to Sandy's answering machine. "Hi, it's Kerry," she coos, completely soft. She leaves a message intended to dissuade Sandy from stopping by, and as she talks, she spies Jing-Mei "Deb" Chen arriving in the lobby, tailed by Dr. Robert Romano. Chen is in clunky pumps, and her nose is literally stuck way up in the air. She's the picture of aloof, and without saying a word, she becomes the embodiment of "irritating." Chen cockily sweeps into the elevator, followed by a bummed-out Romano. Weaver gulps. Her face itself doesn't move, but her eyes betray the rapid acceleration of her heart rate and the layer of nervous sweat doubtless caking her palms.
Carter trots into Dimon's room. "Marcus Welby, am I gonna live?" D shouts merrily. Carter nods. He notices that Dimon has a friend in the room, an oddly skulled dude in a brown patchwork coat. His name is CC, and he's the quiet, steady one to Dimon's flashy, braggadocious nature. Carter reveals that Dimon's spine tests came back just fine -- but his urine is cloudy. Dimon's face darkens. "That why it burns when I whiz?" he asks. Carter nods. It's chlamydia. CC stiffens and stares out the window into the lobby. He turns his head slightly to listen. At this point, the plot "twist" is so obvious, you could see it through a brick wall. "You git dat from nasty booty, right?" Dimon asks. "Nasty booty": best phrase ever. Dimon insists that Aisha is clean, and that he doesn't cheat on her; CC bites his lip and keeps mum, clearly hiding something. Carter orders up an HIV test, which he claims is standard in cases like these. "Whatever, man," Dimon shrugs. "Hey, can I get some more pudding?" Wow, we could've just found a title for an Oz episode, or something -- "Nasty Booty: Can I Get Some More Pudding?"
Carter passes Abby in the lobby and comments, over her protests, about how tired she seems. "I was up most of the night," Abby moans. "Not for fun." Carter smirks, joking that he's pretty sure it's not a coincidence that Frank is also "a little drag-ass" today. "You caught me," sighs Abby. "I was up all night slapping Frank's ass raw...You haven't seen him sit down today, have you?" I laughed out loud at that, even though Frank's cherry-red ass isn't high on my list of must-see landmarks. Carter chews on this, then brightly calls out to Frank, "Have you sat down today? Are you feeling sore at all?" Abby stifles a considerable snicker as Frank, puzzled, gapes at them, pretty sure they're talking shit about his nasty booty. Carter picks up the phone to call Stephen; he arranges to meet his father at the airport for lunch.
Weaver wanders into Reception, only to hear from Frank that Romano wants her up in his office right away. Wincing, Weaver sidles up to Carter and lightly wonders why Chen is at the hospital. "Deb's here?" Carter says, trying to feign surprise. He lies that he hasn't spoken to her recently, and blesses CC a million times over for showing up and changing the subject. CC urgently whispers to Carter that he wants a chlamydia test. "It's only contagious through sexual conduct," Carter assures him. "Right," CC says, clearing his throat and studying the linoleum. Carter's eyes bug out. "RIGHT, okay, right," Carter realizes, thinking CC and Aisha have been revving the chainsaw in secret. He has Abby do up a new chart.
Outside, Elizabeth and Mark shiver and await the arrival of an ambulance. She asks if he's talked to Jen yet. "She wants to think about it," Mark says. This greatly annoys Elizabeth, who would rather make snap decisions if it means ditching the brat. Mark reminds her that it's hugely problematic to let Rachel make all the decisions; that way, she'd just keep flip-flopping back and forth between parents every time she failed to get her way. Elizabeth bows her head and grudgingly acknowledges the truth in that. "You might consider boarding school," Lizzie suggests. "She could use some structure." Mark thinks that's bunk. "I could sell her off to pirates," he offers. I hate to say it, but -- right on, Mark! Or maybe they could make it really obvious and ship her off to some Swiss school for Unwanted Teenagers. Elizabeth blathers that boarding school will give Rachel a sense of self-worth and responsibility. Oh, whatEVER, Elizabeth. Boarding school is going to help her discipline problem? Hasn't she read books about the randy escapades and assorted drug problems of boarding-school lasses with authority issues? "It worked well for me," she says, defensively. "Yeah, but...you're British," Mark says. Elizabeth starts to hiss and spit. She complains that Rachel's out-of-control behavior is disrupting their entire lives, and loudly doubts that Mark's doing anything proactive about it.
Saved by the siren! Mark's patient arrives and saves him from exposing just how spineless and soft and weak he really is. His patient, Julio Echeverria, passed out in the taxi line at a ritzy hotel in town. They escort him inside.
Susan stitches up Kinney in the trauma room. He stares at her intensely. "You're lucky these cuts aren't deep," she notes. "Whoever did this didn't want to kill you." He shrugs, so she presses on and posits that he cut himself just so he could get out of jail for a spell. "You're the first woman I've talked to in fourteen months," he pants. Susan replies, "Yeah, I get that a lot." Kinney bravely tells her that she doesn't have to take care of him. "Wouldn't want to die before they get a chance to kill me," he groans, blathering about the date of his execution and how the almanac says it's slated to rain that day. Susan boringly puts up with it while she finishes stitching his chest scrapes. Kinney decides to deliver a horrible little piece to the effect that it's a blessing to know when and where he'll kick off, unlike the "poor saps" she sees in the ER every day who got taken down by surprise and "never got the chance to say 'I'm sorry,' or...'Goodbye,'" Kinney rasps tearfully. Oh GOD. This show throws no curveballs anymore. If they write a death-row inmate, they bloody well write the most predictable death-row inmate on the planet. Kinney grabs Susan's arm and begs her to keep him there a bit longer, just so he can stay away from his cell. Uncomfortably, Susan promises to keep him for observation for a few hours. A guard enters and makes Kinney unhand her, menacingly promising to "straighten [Kinney] out." Susan absently tells the guard not to worry about it, and bolts.
Mark treats Julio, who was en route to his daughter's wedding when he collapsed. Apparently, he's got cardiac damage indicating that a heart attack started the night. Julio registers his approval of the diagnosis by puking all over the floor. They offer to call his daughter and explain his whereabouts, but Julio sadly insists she won't notice that he's not there to give her away.
CC tests positive for chlamydia. Carter insists that medicine can clear it up, but CC wonders if that will conflict with the protease inhibitors he's taking -- because he's HIV-positive. "Does Aisha know this?" Carter gasps. "No," CC says. Carter turns to leave, pauses briefly to weep for the future of mankind, and then trots away to try to save the day.
Dimon jauntily wheels himself around his room and raps for Aisha. "I was with a girl, her name is Lydia; she was so freak, she gave me chlamydia," he free-styles. Aisha isn't amused. She didn't wear her best fuchsia fur for this shit. This actress still looks uncomfortable trying to play a sistah. Carter enters and asks Aisha to leave, so Dimon sends her off to get him a root beer. Do gangstas drink root beer? I guess gangstas are people, too. Dimon's all, "Whasssaaaap, a'iiiight?" He's overdoing it. It's as though one of the writers was like, "How do black people talk?" and thought watching Dolemite would be good research. Somberly, Carter closes the door and breaks the news that Dimon Z got da damn HIV. Dimon bristles. "I don't do needlez and I ain't no faggot," he insistz, yo, wooooord up. Carter wants to test Aisha, but Dimon refuses. "Da high-five iz heavy," he breathez. Dude, yo, bro.
Aisha reenters with a grape soda instead of root beer. This pushes Dimon over the edge. He can't be expected to recuperate in such horrific conditionz. "This is messed UP!" he screams, grabbing an enormous beige mink coat with one hand and Aisha with the other. Carter follows them out of the room, pleading with Aisha to stay and get tested for some STDs. She's clearly scared, but Dimon's grip is too strong. CC appears and chases Dimon. "You got it, didn't you?" he yells. "You gotta come clean! We're past the frontin' here, dawg!" Lord. This dialogue is so BAD. Dimon hauls off and punches CC in the face, laying him out on the hospital floor. Aisha's confused. "Are you trippin'?" she screams. "We're ghost," Dimon growls, leaving. That shit is WACK, brah.
Weaver nervously enters Romano's office. "You remember Dr. Chen," Romano says pleasantly, gesturing to the embittered physician sitting in a chair opposite his desk. Chen is accompanied by a lawyer. Weaver glances at them, swallows hard, and says, "I'm on shift, Robert." Coolly, Chen's attorney states that his client would like to be rehired. "We're fully staffed at the moment, but if something opens up, I'll keep you in mind," Weaver says pleasantly. Ha! You have to give her credit for keeping up the act. She's frontin', yo. Chen sneers, "I'm not asking you to consider it." Ming-Na, during her hiatus, became the most annoying actress ever. Seriously, she's completely cocksure and arrogant in this scene, and it makes me root for Weaver to kick her ass. Weaver points out that it was Chen's choice to quit. "I've changed my mind, then," Chen says smugly, crossing her arms and staring at Romano. She knows she's already won. "Oh, I'm sorry that only with hindsight you've decided --" Chen interjects, "I didn't decide anything. You decided I was expendable." Weaver glares. "I'm not the doctor that blew out that man's aorta," she snaps. "No," Chen retorts with liquid cool, "you're the doctor who wasn't there." I totally understand that Weaver was wrong to hide the fact that she lost her pager that night, but I don't understand who in the world would agree that Kerry should take most of the blame and absolve Chen of guilt. Deb couldn't handle the rigors of her Chief Resident job, made a completely careless decision that killed a man, and then called Kerry to try and save her ass. Kerry should've been there, but she also shouldn't have needed to be there because Chen and Malucci shouldn't have overlooked the symptoms of Marfan's. Carter spotted it in two seconds.
Chen bristles when Weaver reminds her of her mistake, and leaps to her feet, shouting that the only error she made was letting Kerry sacrifice her and Dave Malucci. "You ran away in anger rather than refusing to accept responsibility!" Weaver yells. Romano, amused, quiets them: "Ladies, if I want a good catfight, I'll watch The View. Let's keep this civil." Weaver chokes back her anger and fixes Chen with a level gaze. "I respect your abilities as a doctor, but the position's already been filled," she says tightly. Chen's lawyer cheerfully explains that they'll sue if the hospital doesn't comply with rehiring Chen under several conditions, two of which are that Chen's record be expunged and, that a statement of correction be attached to her file explaining the situation. HELLO? How does she deserve that? Chen committed an ENORMOUS lapse of judgment! That should stay in her file forever, regardless of what Weaver did to exacerbate the situation. Chen sits there smiling like Sylvester with Tweety in his mouth, showing zero remorse for anything, and having the gall to look self-righteous about the whole thing. Why are TPTB bringing back a likable character and turning her into a hateful shill? Especially since they spent so much time writing Kerry into that corner. Chen's lawyer cocks his eyebrow and casually says that they're not looking to tarnish more reputations here. Weaver seethes that she doesn't respond well to threats. "You know what? You can't screw up and then whine about being mistreated," she rants. "Jing-Mei, you need to grow up." Weaver storms out of the office as Chen crosses her arms and has a good, hard pout.
Carter and Abby examine CC, who's sporting a nice raspberry on his cheek. "He's got it, doesn't he?" he asks mournfully. "Dimon -- he's got the High Five." Abby doesn't understand this strange hip lingo. "HIV," clarifies CC. Carter cites doctor-patient confidentiality, but does ask if Dimon is aware of CC's condition. CC nods. "But my viral load's been zero, and he only gives," CC explains. "I told him, 'Wear a rubber anyway!' He said, 'What for?' It wasn't sex to him." Carter's jaw drops slightly. He and Abby simultaneously realize that CC wasn't sleeping with Aisha after all. They're twenty minutes behind the rest of the world on that one. "He's on the DL," spits CC. Carter and Abby have no idea what that means. "Down-low," CC clarifies. "See, he ain't gay. He can't be a faggot and be legit. He only does guys because women get so stressful." The last sentence is tinged with bitterness. Carter begs him to try to get Aisha's pager number so that she can return and get tested. His face cloudy as Dimon's urine, CC agrees.
Outside the room, Carter tells Abby that he's off to lunch with his father, and that she should page him when CC gets Aisha's number. "So, 'down-low' is 'bisexual'?" Abby asks, puzzled. "No, 'on the side; in secret,'" Webster Carter replies. "In the closet?" she tries to clarify. "No -- to be in the closet, you have to be gay," Carter explains. Abby shakes her head. "He is gay," she points out. "No, he's on the down-low," Carter says with a snicker. Abby sighs. "If he's having anal sex with his friend, he's gay," she rationalizes patiently. That's my favorite line of the episode, heightened by the absolute matter-of-fact delivery. Carter repeats that the anal sex is just for release. "So 'down-low' means 'in denial'?" Abby giggles. Carter laughs too. That whole bit was entertaining, actually.
Abby notices that Weaver is examining Joyce's sprained ankle. Joyce sweetly insists that she sprained it while trying to use the new roller shoes Brian bought her for Christmas. Weaver wants x-rays.
Cut to the x-rays, which Abby says look absolutely fine, pending Weaver's approval. Joyce scrunches up her face. "Will I need crutches?" she scowls playfully. Abby tells her she'll need some help getting around until the ankle can bear her weight, so Joyce decides to call Brian for help getting home. Abby flinches. "It's not all him," Joyce insists. "I give as good as I get." Abby grumbles that she doesn't see Brian in the ER getting his limbs treated. "Our walls are pretty thin, Joyce," Abby insists, silently conveying that she heard everything and knows almost everything. "He's the only guy I've ever loved," Joyce says, maintaining the sweet demeanor despite the air of desperation developing behind it. Abby begs her to talk to a social worker about ways to handle this situation, suggesting that Joyce came to County General for a reason. "I came here because I didn't want to answer a bunch of questions," Joyce pouts crankily. Abby blinks, knowing Joyce is too firmly entrenched in the Egyptian village of Down-Low to relocate now.
Bless Sharif Atkins -- this entire episode, he's done nothing but spout convoluted medical jargon, and he's pulled it off better than Kellie Martin ever did. He's gabbing with Weaver when Romano approaches to bend her ear. Gallant stops talking and stares. "You can go away now," Romano says glibly. YES! The one character they're writing consistently! Romano continues, to Weaver this time, "I was going to have you paged, but I couldn't be sure you were wearing your pager." Weaver tenses and stiffly says she refuses to be intimidated by baseless rumors. Romano slams her with the reveal that a Doc Magoo's waitress is willing to go on record and testify that Weaver came in looking for a lost pager on the night "Chen and Malucci killed that guy." To me, that last bit is the most important -- CHEN and MALUCCI killed that guy. Weaver tries to offer an explanation, but Romano doesn't want any part of it. "No explanation, no spin. Just fix it," he says. Chen has demanded an Attending position with standard pay, and a personal apology from Weaver, which is actually a pretty tame demand, except for the fact that she was negligent and now she's expecting a promotion. Romano wants Weaver to make it happen. Kerry complains that she'd have no authority over Chen at all. Romano wheels on her, grouchy. "We settled with this dead kid's family," he snarls. "I am not going to open it back up again because you have a management problem created by your own negligence and deceit!" Oooh, you go, Romano! It's funny -- I'm pretty anti-Chen in this instance, but Weaver was wrong, and I'm enjoying that Romano calls her out on that fact. In the chain of love, Romano's at the top. He snipes that Weaver had better superglue the pager to her forehead, lest she misplace it once again. Weaver watches him leave, feeling very, very alone and very, very screwed.
A bride shows up looking for Julio. A nation uses this moment as a bathroom break.
Weaver's attention is diverted by a hubbub outside Kinney's room. It seems his vitals are all atwitter and he's not breathing. Susan enters in a panic. "What happened?" she asks. Weaver lifts Kinney's shirt and spies a fresh purple bruise right to his stitches. "Is this new?" she gapes. "They had to straighten me out," mumbles Kinney. The guard looks bored. It seems the blow to the chest collapsed Kinney's lung, so Weaver makes an incision to insert a chest tube. Kinney moans that he doesn't want anything done to him. "You'll die if we don't reinflate it," Susan explains frantically. "I don't care! I'm ready!" wails Kinney. So Susan just stops and watches while Weaver tries to insert the tube and get it working. She's demanding Susan's help, but Susan doesn't want to give it, since the man asked to die. "Please, they'll keep beating on me," Kinney whines, as if he's a tortured innocent. Susan still does nothing to help Weaver. "Susan, NOW!" shouts Weaver. Susan glares. Go away, Susan, unless you want to do your job.
Carter arrives at Midway Airport, which looks modern and slightly, dare I say it, funky. I've been to Midway Airport, and it was a complete armpit last I saw it, so there's no way this set even remotely resembles that bog of misery. Stephen blithely says he's about to board. "What's so urgent?" he asks. "Nothing, just checking in," Carter shrugs. "How's the new place?" Stephen waxes stiffly poetic about the glories of sparse spaces and how it brings clarity to a mind addled by thirty years of being married to a snow troll. Carter casually suggests that he give Eleanor a call. "She wants to negotiate," spits Stephen bitterly. "Don't know when she started looking at life the way other people read the stock reports, but oh well. It's over." Carter theorizes that Eleanor is of a different mind. "You're her ambassador now?" Stephen snorts. "Noooooo!" Carter protests. "I'm just suggesting you take time to make sure this is what you want." Stephen downs some scotch. "I am, thanks to you," he says. Oh, that's just cruel, pinning the divorce on your only living son. Carter seems equally horrified. Stephen rambles that it took his father's death and Carter's harsh words to burst his bubble, making him realize that his life was an illusory lie. "I can't find my way back with her," Stephen asserts grimly, downing the last of his scotch. Carter, to his credit, tries to convince Stephen that Eleanor is reaching out like never before. "Careful, John," warns Stephen. "She's an emotional vampire." And he hops up to board his flight.
Bride asks Mark if her father Julio is dying. Mark explains that he'll need surgery to replace a heart valve. The rest of this scene is shameless. It goes on way too long, consists only of these two less-than-tertiary characters rehashing their "tortured" relationship, and slams us in the head with an extremely large stick as we see Mark watch what his and Rachel's relationship might become. All told, it's crap. Bride blathers that he doesn't deserve to be in her life after so long, and Julio weeps and says he loves her and that he only wanted to watch his precious baby get married. Bride leaves after announcing that she doesn't need him anymore, and Julio rasps her name in desperation. Remember when ER subplots had finesse, and weren't just shamelessly hollow attempts at metaphor? I don't, actually, but I'm told there was a time, long, long ago, when the quality of the show was high, and the writers were not.
And so Mark, who struggles to parent his own child, inexplicably decides to parent Julio's. Because he's so qualified. He went to med school, and if he can meddle in people's innards, he should bloody well be able to meddle in their lives. Mark decrees that Bride doesn't want to leave things this way, and she rants that Julio is a stubborn bastard who should've let her come home when she called from Wichita and begged for mercy. Mark's all, "I hope Rachel gets further than Wichita." Bride bolts, leaving Mark alone with his thought.
Susan confronts the prison guard about whether he beat Kinney in the trauma room. "What do you care? He's a murderer," the guard says. Susan's upcoming and no-doubt-touching tirade about human rights is thwarted by a crashing thud from the trauma room.
Rushing inside, Susan helps Weaver right the gurney, which Kinney flipped by throwing his weight against one side. The left side of his head is bleeding profusely onto the pillow, and his pulse is plunging, in addition to a trickle of blood coming from his ear. Weaver orders up a host of things to help save his life, and Susan resists. "The guy's going to die in a couple months by lethal injection," she argues. "He asked for no heroic measures." Fed up, Weaver angrily points out that death-row inmates attempting suicide in the ER aren't allowed to request DNRs. Spying Sandy out in the hall, Weaver demands that Susan bag Kinney, and flees the room. "Whatever you say, Kerry," bitches Susan under her breath. Which is completely uncalled for, since there are rules Susan's expected to follow, and she's trying not to follow them. If the writers had her say it just to set up a Susan vs. Kerry loathing, it's pretty sloppy work, because it just makes Susan look petty.
Kerry's demeanor totally changes when she's with Sandy. She's gentler, quieter, and her voice is...well, schmoopy. There's no other way to phrase it. Sandy is guarded, wondering why Kerry called; Kerry explains that she'd actually left another message telling her not to come by because she's swamped. Sandy pretends she only came by to check on her co-worker, who was injured in a fire. Malik interrupts to say that Chen is looking for Weaver. Weaver dismisses Malik, then leans in to Sandy and coos that she was really worried about her after that big fire. Abby interjects this time, trying to make Weaver authorize sending a social worker to counsel Joyce. Again, Weaver dismisses her. She hangs her head slightly, like she's trying to hide the fact that something very personal is happening between her and Sandy. "So that's it?" Sandy asks, sadly. "You're going to keep playing this game?" Her eyes are alight with affection. Kerry inches toward her, crumbling, before her nerves kick in and propel her backward again. "I'm not playing any games," she whimpers. "So, what, you just want to check on me?" Sandy says gently. "Is that all right?" Weaver whispers brokenly, and so quietly that I didn't catch it until I watched the show with subtitles. She tries to hide behind her hand as Abby approaches to bug her again about Joyce. "Abby, I'm the treating physician, okay?" Weaver asks softly and shrilly, obviously crying. Sandy, who had warmed to Kerry briefly, freezes up again and gets frustrated. Kerry desperately tries to convince Sandy that she's just busy and isn't trying to avoid their relationship issues. Chen muscles in and snipes, "Kerry, okay, you want to talk to me? Talk to me. I'm not gonna be hanging around for your convenience." It's so obvious Chen was interrupting something. What a brat. And Ming-Na is certainly playing her one-dimensional character to the terrible hilt.
Kerry steers Sandy to a less crowded area, but their conversation is about over. "You know, forget it," Sandy sighs, tired of this dance. Kerry grabs her one last, desperate time, and it snaps something inside Sandy. She grabs Kerry, cradles her ex-flame's face, and kisses her. Kerry melts, reaching out to touch Sandy's cheek, caught in the moment. The camera swivels around them as they kiss, so that when they break apart, we see the curious faces of Frank, Malik, Abby, and Chen staring from the reception desk. I swear, Chen is openly laughing, or at least smirking really blatantly. I hope it's because there were some shenanigans between takes and not because Ming-Na has decided to make Chen a total asshole forever. "Goodbye, Dr. Weaver," Sandy says quietly, fleeing the ER. Weaver, back to business, blinks back tears and stonily glides back to the silent front desk.
Abby enters Joyce's room with a brown bag. I hope there's a 40 inside. But no, it's an escape kit full of money, medicine, and phone numbers. Obtusely, Joyce asks why in the world she'd need that. "He's my husband. I don't need that to feel safe," she avers. Abby tactfully tucks it inside a white plastic bag containing some of Joyce's belongings, and leaves the discussion there.
Adele wheels into the room and introduces herself to Joyce, who resents that Abby called a social worker despite her loud objections. "It's hospital policy in situations like this," explains Adele. "Like what?" Joyce wonders blankly. Lord, someone needs to beat some sense into that girl -- oh, wait, never mind. Joyce starts to panic, claiming that Brian is on his way there and will freak out if he spies her getting interviewed by a social worker. Adele attempts to be probing, asking if that sort of thing happens often; we hear only Joyce's faint protests as Abby gets called away by Mark. He has dialed Bride's church and wants to patch the call through to Julio's room. It seems a lowly choirboy will hold up the phone so Julio can hear all the wedding inaction. A nurse sneaks up to Abby. "Did you see it?" she whispers. "What?" Abby asks. "Me neither -- but I heard it was steamy," giggles the nurse.
In the lounge, Weaver and Chen are throwing down for the Battle Royale of the Badly Coiffed Bitches. Seriously, Chen's hair? Looks like an elephant spit gum into it and she had to cut it out. Or that she lost a fight with a Flowbie. Weaver coldly tells Chen that her rehiring will require the scaling back of other people's hours, "so don't be surprised if [her] return is not met with open arms." Chen smugly says she's certain all scheduling complaints will be directed to Kerry. My first instinct was to call Chen insensitive, but then again, it's pretty obvious that the ER is short-staffed and no one will actually get their shifts reduced, and Weaver is simply being contrary. Chen's first shift will be at 7 PM. "You're putting me on overnights?" she snorts. Weaver figures Chen's not in a position to complain about her schedule, but Chen disagrees -- her conditions were for both salary and shift equity, and she won't stand for getting saddled with the graveyard hours. Chen also restates that she'll be bumped up to Attending. "We both know what you did here," she spits. "Yes," Weaver finally admits. "And we know what you did, too. So while we're being truthful, let me say I'm not the one with blood on my hands. If you were a more thorough doctor, you wouldn't have needed me there in the first place." And with that, Weaver triumphantly leaves the room without having issued that formal personal apology. Chen is steaming.
Yosh and Malik gossip about The Kiss, but when they spot Weaver headed their way, they shut up. Susan hails her and mentions that Kinney will get executed after all -- he's in a post-op coma. She's trying to put his execution on Weaver's head? Go away, Susan. And shut up when you get there. Susan gripes that it costs four thousand dollars a day to care for him while he's comatose. Kerry blows her off, rightly pointing out that resource management isn't Susan's concern -- saving the patient, however, should be.
Aisha arrives and tearfully asks for Carter. He appears and ushers her to a room. "Dimon's always had an act, but I thought he was real with me," she sobs.
Weaver thinks she sees Malik watching her, and curtly tells him to find something to do if he has enough free time to loiter. Malik, cowed, takes his files and pisses off accordingly.
Mark and Rachel take a nighttime stroll, during which he tells her that he chatted with Vulcan Jen and they both emotionlessly decided to leave Rachel in Chicago. "I don't have a say?" Rachel snits. "Maybe in a few years. But no, not yet," Mark decodes. Rachel pouts and looks away. Mark gently tells her that he wants her to stay, because he missed out on too much of her life and hates the idea of her leaving with resentment. Thank God he treated Julio, and that Julio's sad life could Teach A Hero A Very Important Lesson About Fatherhood! That really was a bit of luck, wasn't it? Mark vows to try harder, if Rachel will. "I don't want to be treated like a kid," she brats. "Good," Mark says, instead of chiding her for acting like nothing but. "I don't want to be treated like an old man," Mark says. Rachel smiles, charmed, because she can still treat him like a dork, a wuss, a square and a lunatic.
Abby flags down Brian, who is searching for Joyce's room. She knows Adele is still in there, and tries to distract him from discovering that. Brian laughs hollowly that he always warned Joyce that the ankle skates lacked proper support. "They can be dangerous," Abby says, appraising him carefully. Brian politely, and seemingly sincerely, apologizes for dragging Abby into their domestic disputes. With false cheer, he recalls a neighbor of theirs in San Francisco who thought there was an earthquake, but realized it was just Joyce smashing Brian's "softball trophies" because he went to a sporting event instead of dining with her parents. Softball trophies, Brian? Uh huh. They must move a lot, too, if they lived recently in San Francisco and Virginia, and are as young as they appear. I think I'm trying to inject more intrigue than is actually required.
As Brian heads for Joyce's room, Abby tries to talk his ear off about whether he should just go pull the car around and let Abby shepherd her outside; just then, Adele wheels out of the room and cheerfully promises to speak later with Abby. Brian rushes inside and envelops his wife in a hug, kissing all over her face and being extra-lovey-dovey. He wheels her out for a special dinner. Abby notices that Joyce left her white plastic bag on the counter. "This yours, Joyce?" she asks, pointedly. "No. I have what I came with," Joyce replies. Abby nods unhappily and mitigates her frustration with Joyce by gnawing on her own lip. Opening the bag, she yanks out exactly what she knew she'd find -- the escape kit.
Kerry confronts Sandy at the firehouse, even though Sandy's prepping to go out on a call. "Who are you?" Kerry seethes. "I mean, who the HELL are you?" She completely rails on Sandy for trying to control her life, while Sandy argues that Kerry was lying to her about who she was. "I never misrepresented myself!" insists Kerry. "No, you just pretend to be something you're not," Sandy yells as she makes a beeline for the fire truck. Kerry's irate that Sandy outed her to a hospital full of colleagues and underlings, especially when Kerry so closely guards her privacy. "You can't separate who you are from what you do," Sandy swears. Kerry correctly points out that it's not Sandy's decision to make, and Sandy rants that Kerry just wants the best of both worlds -- to be a lesbian but skirt the hardship that comes with it. "You don't get one without the other," Sandy shouts. "At least not with me." I find it hard to believe that any lesbian who's endured discrimination and hardship could be SO insensitive about outing a woman who's just not ready. I also feel like someone in that position would be more sympathetic to people who are, for one reason or another, still in the closet. It's disappointing. Kerry can't believe Sandy would kiss her in public just to prove a point, or perhaps out of spite. Sandy shakes her head. "I did you a huge favor! You just don't know it yet!" she shouts as the fire truck pulls away.
The Cold House. Eleanor balances on a ladder so she can change a lightbulb. She's drunk, and as soon as Carter enters the room, he can tell. Eleanor drops the dead bulb and it shatters; she then trips down the ladder and requires Carter's help. It seems she pinched a bottle of Bordeaux given to Gamma as a gift, and had herself a bit of a tipple. "I spent the entire afternoon at the Children's Cancer Center," she slurs. "There was this one boy...." Eleanor winces and puts a hand to her forehead, as if to rub out the memory. She clears her throat and recounts an argument she had with Gamma. "She said my presence was, in fact, hindering her recovery," Eleanor says sadly. "That if she needed a caregiver, I would be the absolute last person she'd call." She looks completely gutted. Carter regards her with pity and distaste and even a glimmer of affection. Then he realizes something and grabs his mother's arm to take her pulse. "Are you taking something?" he asks. "Xanax," she admits. A shred of hope alight in her eyes, Eleanor asks if he talked to Stephen. Carter says nothing. "He's given up on me," she realizes. Carter asks how many Xanax Eleanor took; the answer is two.
, we see Eleanor puking violently into a toilet, probably one buried deep in the servants' quarters. "You shouldn't have to go through this," she slurs shakily, leaning back against the wall. Carter parks himself against the tile and exhales tiredly. Orange puke crusts the toilet. That bathroom can't smell too good. Perhaps they can summon a servant to flush the commode for them. "She asked me to leave," shares a sniveling Eleanor. "Do you want me to leave?" Carter, unnerved by how utterly pathetic his mother is, shakes his head. Eleanor's smile is still in place, but it's almost ghoulish and commingled with tears, running makeup and a dripping nose. "You're right," she nods. "I failed you. I failed your brother and then I failed you." She rambles about her guilt at not realizing something was amiss with little Bobby, and Carter's stunned she's carried that around with her for more than twenty years. Eleanor flogs herself for not taking him to a doctor the second he complained of fatigue. "It delayed the diagnosis by less than a month," Carter points out. "Wouldn't have changed anything." Eleanor winces, still smiling to mask whatever shred of emotion she hasn't already exposed by dribbling it onto her dress or heaving it into the toilet. "I just stood by while it was eating him alive," she cries. "I just stood by." Carter wordlessly watches his mother implode. And ironically, while we stare at a puke-stained porcelain toilet bowl, the closed-captioning proudly proclaims that ER is sponsored by Clorox, "so you know it's clean." Indeed.