Previously on ER: in season seven, Abby confessed to Carter that she's an alcoholic who's been sober for five years, making her almost six years on the wagon until she took a drink with Joyce. Brian, Joyce's husband, beat up Abby, and she stayed with Luka until Brian returned to Idaho. Newcomer intern Pratt rubbed people the wrong way, yet somehow resented being treated like the know-it-all punk he is. Finally, from The Flashback Vault, Susan cuddled her niece Suzy while warning her reformed-junkie sister, Chloe, that she might not have the stuff to be a good mother.
Abby "Home Perm" Lockhart gingerly opens the door to her apartment and enters, lugging inside her belongings, her mop of fluffy, curly hair, and a copy of Poofs, I Did It Again: Curlers for Dummies. Dr. Luka "Insert Drooling Noise Here" Kovac follows with a suitcase, then exits to bring up more of her stuff, leaving Abby alone in her place. She wanders into the bathroom and flicks on the light; her gaze falls upon the blood-stained cloth she held to her wounds when Brian hit her. It's pretty gross that her cloth is still there, because we know she lived in the apartment for a little while after The Beating, meaning it sat there getting crusty on the edge of her sink while she showered and primped every day. Maybe dried blood doubles as a great exfoliating scrub. Abby stares at herself in the mirror, as if remembering what she saw on the night her left eye got a shocking makeover.
As Dr. Jing-Mei "Deb" Chen fiddles around with paperwork at the front desk, new County General intern Dr. Greg "Won't Get A Nickname Until He Becomes More Than A One-Dimensional Caricature" Pratt prepares to exhibit terrible taste in women. "You like macaroni and cheese?" he asks, not looking up but clearly talking to Chen. "No," she replies, also not looking up. Pratt laments that it's a shame, because mac and cheese is all he has for dinner. "Too bad," Chen says lightly, heading off to check on some patients. Pratt trails her. "Well, it's not so bad if you kick in a few bucks for a nice bottle of wine," he oozes. Chen ignores him and moves on to a second patient. Pratt persists. "Are you asking me out?" she marvels. "I'll pass." Pratt, being a prick and an idiot, doesn't get it. "I don't like mac and cheese," Chen shares. "Well, then you cook something," Pratt smiles. "I don't think so," Chen says. "I'm not making you dinner." Go Chen! Keep up the rejection. But Pratt keeps trying, having apparently never met a woman he couldn't beat over the head with his unique brand of arrogance and non-charm. "I just figured you'd want to eat first," Pratt shrugs. Chen, having reached another patient's bedside, glares playfully at Pratt. Oh, dear. The armor is cracking. Gross. "Before things get hot and heavy," continues Pratt, leaning over an old man to leer at Chen. "I can do that all by myself," Chen retorts. Pratt fondles his stethoscope, delirious and horny. Although I guess the luster of "doctor/patient" sex fantasies sort of wears off once you're actually a doctor. Do you suppose people in the medical field play sex games like "Middle-class suburban couple" or "construction beefcake/mini-skirted ad exec"? Whatever the costume drama, Pratt is staging it in his head right now. Pablo, the old male patient, widens his eyes and drools, "Did someone say 'sex'?" I'm sure County General patients never tire of hearing too much information about their physicians' personal lives. Chen asks Pablo if he likes macaroni and cheese. "I love it," Pablo says, hoping this is still part of the sex discussion. Chen smirks and tells Pratt, "You've got yourself a date." Pratt's all, "Someday, I'm going to melt that ice queen with the healing glow of my crotch."
Abby pulls spoiled food from her fridge and winces. Luka -- oh, my. Luka has a power tool, and he's clearly not afraid to use it. Never before have I wanted to be an electric drill. Well, not this badly, anyway. He is installing a new deadbolt on Abby's door while she sips a beer and cleans out the refrigerator. A knock at the door interrupts Luka's drill power. Bastard knock! Damn you! Luka shoots an inquisitive glance at Abby, wondering if she's expecting someone; Abby shrugs that she isn't, and appears to give the nod for Luka to open the door. Nowhere here does anyone suggest using the peephole. So naturally, when Luka cracks open the door, he comes face to face with a bouquet-wielding Dr. John "D'oh!" Carter, who'd stopped by to check up on his lady crush.
Carter enters nervously, and as he does, we cut to a long shot of Abby holding an open beer down by her hip, standing on the border between her kitchen and living room, her symbolic limbo. She instinctively jerks the bottle partly behind her, then tenses in frustration and jerks her head to the side, flapping her free hand to kill off the nervous energy building inside her as she's realized he caught her. Ever so busted, Abby finally looks up to meet his gaze. "Hey, Carter," she offers lamely, head slightly hung. Carter's jaw tenses. He stares at her, nursing his cocktail of dejection on the rocks, with a twist of disbelief and an olive stuffed with disillusionment. Luka cottons to the fact that the air is thick with tension, and tries to break it by offering Carter some pizza. Ah, pizza. There's nothing it can't do. Except, apparently, heal Carter's just-salted wounds. "I just came by to make sure you were settled," Carter says through mounting ire, dumping the flowers on a nearby table. "Getting there," Abby says through clenched teeth. "I can see that," Carter replies curtly. He turns on his heel and shouts, "Welcome home," as he bitterly exits. We cut to an extreme close-up of Abby trying to cure her beer munchies by gnawing on her own lip. Fade to black. Credits.
Pratt tends to a greasy youth flopping around in agony on an exam room bed. He's clutching at his abdomen and begging for the pain to stop. Abby shows up and begins to help, but Pratt ignores her completely and probes his patient for information. The Greasy Youth blathers that his brother is inside his stomach trying to eat his way out; Abby wryly suggests Haldol, a psych consult, and some soft restraints, but Pratt waves off her suggestions. He turns angrily to Abby and snaps, "I fly the plane, you serve the coffee." Asshole. TGY bellows again that his brother is trying to claw through his stomach, and he looks utterly terrified. Last week, Pratt was laughing at cases like this and calling rudely for psych consults, yet suddenly this week he's Mr. Serious? Well, that makes me hungry, and the only cure is a giant Whatever sandwich. Abby seems like she'd protest, but she spies Carter heading toward them and instead says, "Fine, he's all yours." As Carter watches her leave, Abby peers back at him over her shoulder, then hightails it down a corridor.
Carter and Pratt argue briefly about another patient's EKG, the former contending that Pratt was too quick to dismiss asking for a second. They discuss it while TGY thrashes and convulses and panics about his internal cannibalistic brother who's noshing his way through some stomach lining. "I've got to get him out before he kills me!" screams TGY, whipping out a switchblade. With lightning reflexes, Carter whips his chart-wielding hand around and smacks TGY's arm, knocking the switchblade clear down the hall and possibly taking the guy's entire wrist with it. Pratt tries to calm TGY, who is convulsing in earnest again, while Carter calls for every one of the things Abby suggested: Haldol, soft restraints, and a psych consult. "Get a wrist film, too," he adds.
Dr. Robert "Rocket" Romano trots after Dr. Kerry "Now Closet-Free!" Weaver, blathering about statistics stating that lesbians are less likely to have kids by the age of thirty, and are therefore at a higher risk of getting ovarian, breast, and cervical cancers. "Is that so," Weaver sighs, trying to tune him out. Romano claims this is because lesbians are less likely to seek appropriate health care because they're afraid to come out to their doctors. He's reading this from what looks like a medical journal, or perhaps another reference-style book. Weaver could not care less. "Lezzzzzbians are also less likely" to get gynecological care, Romano adds, stretching the word "lesbian" as far as he can. "Do you have to keep saying that?" Weaver snaps, exasperated. "What, 'lesbians'? I'm just reading," Romano says innocently. "I can't help it, Kerry, this gets me excited." He goes on to explain just how and why lesbians and their special caves of magic really turn his crank -- as if that needed clarification. Romano details his theory that County General is well positioned to help under-serviced lesbians. "You're trying to exploit my lifestyle," Weaver accuses, but she doesn't seem angry so much as resigned to his quirks. "No, I'm trying to accentuate the positives," Romano counters. "You're Chief, you're gay, you're challenged...You can be the poster girl for County General's new Center for Lesbian Excellence," Romano announces. I laugh out loud at the title. Weaver just looks at him like he's forgotten to take his medication. Romano trots away and calls back that she can read more about it in the proposal, which he'll hand out before the news conference. Weaver gapes, "You'd better be kidding!" To which Romano sing-songs, "This is gonna be great!" I can't tell if he's kidding.
Dr. Susan "What You Smell Is My Rotted, Decayed Storyline Being Exhumed" Lewis enters the staff lounge, where Carter is attacking a toaster with The Greasy Youth's switchblade. It seems his Pop Tart is stuck, and he'll spare no man or machine until that blessed pocket of pastry joy is rescued and making sweet love to his esophagus. Susan glares at all the stuff littering the table; Carter exposits that Weaver hasn't given Pratt a locker, so he's borrowing all available surfaces in the lounge. Susan picks up the phone to check her messages while absently saying, "Hope you unplugged that [toaster]." Carter starts shaking and jerking, eyes bugging out and teeth clenched. Then he cracks up at his own hilariousness. "Very funny," Susan snickers, rolling her eyes. As Carter tries pressing her gently for information about who might replace Mark -- dude, the tumor isn't even cold yet -- Susan's messages play over the speakerphone. Both adults fall silent when they hear the panicked voice of a young child. "Aunt Susan, are you there?" the terrified girl whispers. Suzy goes on to claim that her mother, Chloe, seems sick and they're in a hotel and she can't wake Chloe up. "Gotta go," Suzy wails suddenly, slamming down the phone. Slowly, Susan moves to the phone and dials her sister, but gets an answering machine. She freaks as Carter watches, concerned.
At the front desk, Susan informs a local police officer that Chloe's husband is a cop in New Jersey, but none of his colleagues could find him -- he took time off without leaving a number or address. "Do you have caller ID?" Officer Thicko asks. Susan does not. Carter pipes up and suggests the cop trace the call. Officer Thicko considers this, perplexed, because he has been aptly christened. He then toddles off to trace the call, delighted to have finally figured out what all that newfangled call-tracing technology does. Carter, meanwhile, tries to reassure Susan that it's all just one giant misunderstanding, and that kids have overactive imaginations. He then leaves to cover one of Susan's patients while she waits for news.
En route to the patient, Carter spies Luka and pulls him aside to see if his archrival's gotten any less manly and imposing. Sadly for Carter, though, Luka is still Luka. "I need to talk to you," Carter hisses. "About Abby." Luka blinks. "What about her?" he asks. "What do you think? She's drinking again. Or didn't you notice?" Carter seethes. Luka looks him over, furrowing his brow a bit. It's here that intense speculation begins about whether Luka had any real knowledge of Abby's addiction. My suspicion is that if he knows anything, it's a very tiny, watered-down version of real events fed to him by Abby, who never really wanted to expose herself to him and was constantly holding parts of herself back. And he, in turn, didn't bother extrapolating because he was busy cultivating his own brooding mystique. I think that could be part of why Abby was drawn to Carter in the first place -- his addiction helped her come clean with someone about her own problems, and it made them close in a way that's unusual for Abby, and which made her vulnerable. Just a guess.
An incoming trauma interrupts the conversation. Weaver calls Luka to help her with the patient, a seven-year-old boy who was climbing a tree when he took a sudden header. They truck on into Trauma Green and call for a pediatric neurosurgeon. They also notice the kid is leaking spinal fluid and there's blood everywhere on his skull. "Looks like a deformity at the angle of the mandible," Luka announces. He's so cute with his syllables and jargon. Carter tries to help, but Weaver shoos him out, so he darts Luka a bitter and reproachful look before whirling around and stalking out like Polly Prissy Pants with a killer wedgie. Luka looks momentarily perturbed, then gets back to work.
Pratt leans against a wall and fills out a chart. He's got a stupid smile on his face that makes me want to slap him straight into some sort of grisly and hellish place. Like Hell, perhaps. Chen strolls up and teasingly asks about his dinner date with Pablo. Pratt chuckles and proceeds to regale Chen with fun facts about Pablo's life, because he's a sensitive and interested physician who will wine and dine anyone if it looks a fast track to Booty Town. Chen inches toward him, all smiling and semi-flirtatious, seemingly impressed. "He was hungry," Pratt pants. "And I just can't stand eating alone." Gross. The two of them are nasty. Pratt shoots her a "come hither" look; Carter blessedly interrupts before Chen goes thither.
Grabbing Pratt, Carter drags him around the corner and demands to know why he released a particular patient. "There was nothing wrong with that woman," Pratt says, his neck still craned to try and glimpse Chen. "She just wanted a free meal." Carter snaps that he has to sign off on every patient Pratt sees, whether they're treated or not. Pratt grudgingly agrees to this, and Carter moves on down the hall in his fit of Mark-esque non-emotion. He stumbles across Susan and Officer Thicko, who exposits that Suzy's message came from a mobile phone whose signal was picked up in New York's Upper West Side. He tells Susan that the cops there are anxiously expecting her call so that they act up a storm and attract some viewers.
In New York's 55th Precinct, a lieutenant manning the phones banters with a fit, brown-haired cop called Officer Boscorelli. This Bosco is grouchy because someone didn't wipe down the workout bench after sweating all over it, and he wanders around barking out non-threatening threats against the lazy ass who didn't observe gym etiquette. While he does this, the lieutenant picks up a call from a woman in Chicago and patches it through to Bosco, who accepts it grudgingly despite the fact that his shift technically hasn't started. Boredly, he introduces himself to this woman from Chicago -- this nameless, faceless woman whose identity I simply cannot fathom -- and then listens while she ostensibly panics. "Ma'am, calm down, listen to me," Bosco says, sitting down. "When was the last time you talked to your sister?"
In Trauma Green, the little boy who dove off a tree is not doing terribly well. His heart rate is plunging, and Dr. Elizabeth "My Husband Is Dying Off-Camera And All I Got Was This Lousy Subplot" Corday has been called down to evaluate the tyke. Weaver quietly asks after Mark, and we learn he's toddled off to Hawaii with Rachel so she can learn about the place in which he grew up, rather than focusing on all that book-learning and whatnot. Just then, the tyke's pupils dilate rapidly and he shows no response to pain; his injuries are paralyzing him. Amid the mayhem and the tragic loss of a young life, Susan figures it's a good time to sneak a few days off. So she shows up and yells to Weaver that she's fleeing to New York to find her missing sister and niece. "The police aren't helping!" she yells.
Susan runs out past Carter, who is stumped by her apparent ability to book last-second flights and battle traffic and security guards to actually make the last-second flight, and get out of work for an indefinite period of time. In the end, he can only do what any of us do: he shrugs. "I'm going to find them!" shrieks Susan in a whirlwind of false optimism that, sadly, fails to lift any of us up to a new level of interest in this story.
And, in the spirit of this commercial break, let's all take a trip to the fridge and bemoan the fact that we're only one-eighth of the way through the crossover event.
An elderly African-American man stares straight into the camera. "Jesus was a healer," he begins. Weaver looks up from the front desk. "Who let Reverend Ed in?" she gripes. "He's a holy pain." She orders Gallant to turf the reverend, who has a penchant for walking around pretending to heal people. Kind of like Chen. Ed is preaching that the people in the waiting room should really open their hearts to Jesus. Gallant gingerly asks him to leave. "You treat the body and I treat the soul," bellows Ed. "Go with God, my son!" Romano already taught us that God is Love. Maybe he and Ed should go bowling.
Paramedics wheel in a security guard named Stanley who's been shot in the stomach. Except the wound is closer to his nipples, but whatever, maybe he has some digestive juices in there. They claim he's thirty-two; he looks fifty-two, and he's eerily calm about the huge quantities of blood staining his chest in the vicinity of a painful hole. "Pay attention," Pratt calls out arrogantly to Gallant. "Where does it hurt, Stanley?" Stanley sneers at him. "Where do you think?" he gripes, gesturing to the festering wound that's sitting on his chest and smiling up at the world. Pratt plays this off as an important procedural lesson to Gallant, while Abby rolls her eyes and bites back a smirk at the brat Pratt's misguided self-importance.
Carter comes over to supervise. "Haven't seen you around this morning," he says to Abby, with an accusatory edge. Abby takes a deep breath. "It's been busy," she answers, very controlled, not giving him anything. As they get Stanley situated in Trauma Yellow, Carter agrees to let Pratt run the show. Pratt calls for all the right meds, then condescendingly makes Gallant do a rectal. "The rectal," repeats Gallant, gleaming irritatedly at Pratt. I'm not sure why he needs to do a rectal, since there's a slightly more insidious hole in Stanley's body right now. "Play nice," Carter warns them.
A tattooed, handcuffed thug plops down to Susan on a bench in the NYPD 55th precinct's office. She got there mighty quickly. Bosco and his partner, Faith Yokas, pass by bantering about a gun show in Baltimore. It totally doesn't matter. And they don't care, either. They might as well be reciting their blocking. "Past the bench and up the steps," Bosco is saying. "Slow down right before we hit the door," Faith replies. "I'll stop and sass you briefly and then run right into the lieutenant." The lieutenant appears on cue and points to Susan, telling Bosco that she's the woman who called from Chicago earlier. "Her sister and her sister's kid have gone missing for what, an hour? And she's coming unglued," Bosco explains unkindly to Yokas. The lieutenant orders them to drive her around and help find these people. "She's a doctor from Chicago," he repeats. "That kind of trouble, I don't need." What? Is he worried about some kind of medical Mafia lynching him, killing him, and selling him for parts? Bosco is still annoyed that he has to play in the sandbox with Susan and continues to say mean things about how she's just jumpy and irrational. He's a real charmer. He and Pratt need to go on Survivor or something so they can connive and scheme for total island domination, and ultimately eat each other in some bizarre power struggle.
Susan jumps up and flags down Bosco, recognizing his unsympathetic voice as that of the unsympathetic officer who unsympathetically took her call that morning. "I made a few phone calls, but I don't have much," Bosco fibs. Susan worriedly shares that she called Suzy's school, and the child hasn't been there for days. Yokas gently tells her that 90% of these cases turn out just fine, which I'm sure is about as comforting as a nail sandwich. "Maybe the whole family took a trip to Disneyworld or something, I don't know, fishing..." Bosco babbles, doing nothing to improve upon my first impression of his intelligence. Yokas asks where Chloe's family lives. "South Orange," Susan answers. Almost relieved, Yokas starts referring Susan to the New Jersey police department, but Susan whips out a tape recorder and plays back the panicked message Suzy left her. Bosco looks a bit guilty, and asks Susan if she checked with all the hospitals. "Isn't that your job?" she cracks tiredly. She hands Yokas some photographs, and Yokas promises to canvass all the hotels in their precinct to see if anyone recognizes Chloe or Suzy. Susan asks to come. "No," Bosco says. "Yes," Yokas says at the same time. Yokas wins. Bosco pouts. America slumbers.
Stanley's not doing terribly well. His pressure plummets and all sorts of machines start to register their discomfort by beeping frenetically. Carter pages a surgeon and tells Gallant to bag Stanley because he stopped breathing. Pratt gets snippy. "I'm running this," he brats. "This is a teaching hospital, Pratt," Carter says. "Come on, give him a shot." Pratt snorts that if Gallant can't get it, then he's all over it. "Don't hold your breath," growls Gallant. He then begins psyching himself up for the big intubation. "Don't chip his teeth," snarks Pratt. Carter grins in spite of himself. Stop it, Carter. Don't encourage the bastard. Gallant performs a flawless intubation and smiles with excitement. "Easy intubation," Pratt scoffs. WHAT is his deal? It's not like Gallant is a threat to him -- he's a med student and Pratt is an intern. They're not in competition.
If you're looking for plot advancement, read no further. Luka bumps into Abby and whispers that Carter's been seeking her out. "Well, he found me," Abby sighs. "He doesn't seem real happy," Luka adds. "No, he's not," Abby says matter-of-factly. Yeah, and that's it. I'm dying for a big Luka/Abby scene here that clears up a few things, but alas, it's not to be.
Luka continues into Trauma Green to see the dying boy, whose parents are hovering over his gurney. "It's going to be okay," they both coo. The Jinx Fairy curses, puts down her Snickers and makes a mad dash for my television. Luka breaks the news: their son burst a blood vessel in his head, and most of the damage is irreversible. The only reason he's breathing is because they've put him on a ventilator. "I'm sorry," Luka says sincerely. The parents, startled, stare sadly at their son. "Beep," his machines sob.
New Dork City. Turd Watch. The Crossover Event That Will Leave You Breathless...Because You've Died of Boredom. Bosco swaggers across the street in front of traffic, making the cars slam on their brakes. He gets honked at and cusses out the person who did it. Kids, don't try that at home. It only works for Bosco because he's a crazy asshole. Bosco hops back into his car and tells Susan that no one matching Suzy or Chloe's descriptions has showed up at any hospitals or morgues in the area. "That's good," Susan says flatly. Bosco repeats to her that these things happen all the time, and that the family probably just forgot to tell her they were taking a vacation. Susan just looks at him. Yokas gets into the car, having struck out with a street vendor, and asks Susan if the family was having any problems, or if Chloe's husband was a drug user or alcoholic. "No, he's the one who straightened out my sister," Susan says obliviously. Yokas and Bosco trade "oh no she di-int!" glances while Susan stares blithely at them from the back of the patrol car. She's so clueless. Bosco knows this game from when he got Kelly Taylor hooked on cocaine, and he knows it's not pretty. As an ER doctor who's probably seen all kinds of junkies -- including her own sister -- struggle with quitting, I'm stunned Susan didn't even think it was relevant to mention Chloe's history. Talk about blind faith and idiocy. Susan adds that Chloe has been drug-free for five years and is a responsible wife and mother. "If she's so responsible, then why are you here?" Bosco rants. "Because I signed a contract with Satan," Susan thinks.
Gallant enters Trauma Yellow and encounters Pratt there fiddling with Stanley's monitors. "Sure you know how to work that?" he asks. "Spend a year at the VA, you learn how to work the hardware," smirks Pratt. He speaks callously of the bedridden veterans, which chafes Gallant. "They gave themselves so you could live the life you do," Gallant says quietly. "Nobody gave me anything," Pratt bristles. Clearly, someone should've given him a good, hard spanking. "Bleeeeeeeep," shouts Stanley's machinery. Pratt snaps to attention and yells for a crash cart, while Gallant nervously wants to fetch Carter. "Asystole, definitely asystole," he stammers. Pratt wants to do a thoracotomy and demands the rib spreader, which sends Gallant into fits of fear as he bounds toward the double doors to get Carter. "NO TIME!" screams Pratt. "Get with the program!" Gallant is in a right tizzy, running around in weird circles muttering that they absolutely should not do this. He looks possessed. Pratt inspires no confidence when the little prick whips out a notebook and starts reading a crib sheet on how to crack a chest. He puts the book on top of Stanley and reads as he makes the incision. He's begging for a malpractice suit -- or mal-Pratt-ice, as it were. "This is so wrong! I am not doing this!" wails Gallant. "Abby! Abby!" But in the end, since Stanley's wide open and about to flash his innards at the world, Gallant feels obligated to don the safety goggles and assist Pratt. They crack Stanley slowly, and as they're cranking the rib spreader, Abby enters and stops dead in her tracks. "What are you doing?" she gapes. Gallant yells for her to go get someone fast.
Abby throws back the curtain on an exam room. "Carter, your student's just cracked somebody's chest," she says bluntly. Carter ingests this for a second, then bolts frantically to the trauma room.
HeartCam. Gallant and Pratt peer down at Stanley's ticker. Something in his chest burps and gurgles. Pratt searches his soul and coughs up an eloquent, "Whoa." Carter storms in and rages that his pupils must be utterly insane. "I need to cross-clamp the aorta with...that big-ass clamp," sputters Pratt. Carter angrily brushes him aside, spitting that if he doesn't know its name, he shouldn't be trying to use it. Pratt claims Stanley was dying. "Well if he wasn't, he sure is now," Carter snaps.
Daryl, a seedy-looking scruffbag who is one of Bosco's contacts, sits outside a déclassé establishment in New York City. Bosco roughly explains who and what he seeks, and we see Susan sitting in the back of a patrol car with the window rolled down, listening to everything he says. I didn't realize cops handed out window privileges to people in the back of their rigs, but maybe they're just airing out the odor of ripe convicts. Bosco callously booms that he's searching for a junkie and her daughter. Susan would flinch, if Sherry Stringfield was paying attention, but instead she's twiddling her thumbs in the back seat, and looks like she doesn't even know she's on-camera. Yokas turns to her and smiles that Bosco isn't the cold-blooded bastard he appears to be -- that, deep down inside, he has a heart of stainless steel covered in faux-gold plating. Bosco kicks Daryl's chair out from under him and snarls, "Go get the owner now before I break your face." Susan remembers to wince this time as skinny Daryl lopes inside. Yokas bites her lip and silently curses her partner's bad timing.
Yokas gets out and strolls over to Bosco. "What was that about?" she asks levelly. Bosco shrugs that Daryl wasn't being helpful, so he's going to fetch the owner of the motel. Susan watches from the patrol car. Bosco curses the whole case as a waste of time; Yokas, more patient, wonders if this is some kind of custody squabble between Chloe and her husband. "Maybe this chick isn't even missing," spits Bosco. "Maybe she's hiding from her controlling lunatic sister." Yokas understands Susan's pain. Bosco finally points out that they're performing an exhaustive search for Chloe, something they don't normally do for junkies, and I'm glad somebody realizes how bizarre that feels. "The sister says she's clean," Yokas says. Bosco snorts. Susan continues her staring. She's extremely persistent. Or perhaps she's avoiding eye contact with me, because she knows I skipped a bit in here involving a neighborhood watch volunteer on a bicycle. But if she's watched it, she'd know how pointless it was.
Carter and Pratt wheel Stanley into an elevator; he's heading up to the operating room. "This is a bloody mess," Romano bitches, walking up briskly. "What did you use to crack his chest, a hand grenade?" Pratt turns around defensively and brats that he saved Stanley's life. Romano eyes Pratt, recognizes a cockroach of humankind when he sees one, and beats him over the head with a size ten loafer. Tassel included, too. Sigh, no, actually Romano barks, "Who the hell are you, and why are you talking to me?" Cowed, Pratt shuts up. Romano skewers Carter for the conduct of his pupils and disappears upstairs with his hacked up patient.
"What's his problem?" scoffs Pratt. Oh, man. This guy got through medical school. That's not something that stupid people can accomplish with ease. So why is Pratt the dumbest fucking turd in the cow pasture? Carter reminds Pratt that he butchered Stanley without authorization or supervision, and Pratt regurgitates the crap logic that he saved a man's life by acting the way he did -- you know, by taking the Cliff's Notes approach to open-heart surgery. Carter angrily orders both Pratt and Gallant to sit in the lounge and await his further attention. Pratt rejects this idea. "For once, do as you're told, Pratt," Carter says tiredly. Pratt whirls around and throws his stethoscope cockily over his shoulder. The business end of it swings too far and cracks Gallant in the back of the neck, although I don't think it was intentional. "Thanks a lot," Gallant mutters, his words caked in sarcasm. Pratt turns in the opposite direction, away from the lounge. "Where are you going?" Gallant gapes. "To save some more lives," breezes Pratt, exiting. The writers are trying to so hard to make him the Benton of the show, but they're not giving us anything to love to hate. There's no dimension to him beyond this thick, arrogant, repellant facade. Having him flirt with Chen isn't exactly proof positive that Pratt has a soul. It just proves he has a working penis.
The old man who owns the seedy hooker hotel leads Bosco, Yokas and Susan through its grungy corridors. He claims to remember Chloe and Suzy, but didn't get names. "Around here, we specialize in anonymity," he chortles. "And twenty-dollar nooners," Bosco says under his breath. They enter a hotel room and Susan rushes to a child's stuffed toy, left sitting alone on a grubby cot. Bosco bursts into the adjoining room and yells for Yokas to join him. Susan runs after her and comes face to face with the thing she denied most fervently -- drug paraphernalia, clearly used, sitting on a bed her sister most likely occupied. "Should've been working this angle from moment one," Bosco growls, shoving past her. Yokas shoots Susan a "duh" look tinged with a lot more sympathy than Bosco's, and follows her partner. We fade to black on Expression #43 from Sherry Stringfield's Mildly Perplexed collection.
Elizabeth stands over the young boy with head injuries. He's still in Trauma Green, and his parents are still hovering at his bedside. Luka enters. "He moved a little," the mother notes hopefully. Elizabeth spies a balloon of hope rising in the woman, and, as has become her duty on this show, vows to suck the happy out of it. "[The movement is] not voluntary," Elizabeth says in clipped tones. The mom reminisces about her sweet little monkey son, who loved to climb and climb and climb, in addition to the climbing. She doesn't mention bananas, but I'm sure it was just an oversight. Her husband, though, seems to realize his monkey son isn't getting better and won't live to climb another climbable object. Gently, Elizabeth explains that the fall did too much damage to the child's brain. "Is he suffering?" chokes the father. Elizabeth stares absently at the boy, who looks normal but is basically just a giant anvil with a face at this point. "I think he's gone," she whispers. "This is just his body." The parents slowly nod and agree to unplug him and let him climb up into the sky. Elizabeth silently flips out and has to leave, lest she become too overwhelmed with fantasies of pulling Mark's plug.
Gallant sits nervously in the lounge. Carter enters and sees that Pratt is, one would think predictably, absent. Irked, Carter strips off his lab coat and throws it angrily at the lockers. "How's Stanley?" offers Gallant. "Still in the OR," Carter replies. "That was really stupid." Gallant says it wasn't his idea and swears he tried to fetch Carter, but that ultimately he thought Stanley would die if Pratt attended him alone. "What was I supposed to do?" he pleads. I actually feel horrible for him, because that's such an uncomfortable situation, although he really could have dashed out and gotten Carter in less time than he spent angsting about what to do. Carter pissily sentences Gallant and Pratt to "scut duty" for the rest of the week. Translation: they'll be cleansing a whole lot of anuses. Gallant politely thanks his supervisor and turns to leave. Carter sags into a chair and calls out, "Do you know Dr. Malucci?" Gallant stops. "No," he says. "That's because he got fired," Carter tells him. "He was a hot-shot too. Killed a guy because he thought he knew everything." Carter is way too into becoming the wizened lecturer. Gallant justifiably stiffens, and shirtily points out, "I don't blame you for being angry...but don't confuse me and Pratt." Carter exhales hard, embarrassed that he's so used to the One Black Male Doctor Per Season rule, he forgot that the show broke it. It's unfair that Gallant's record -- which is one of conscientious respect and diligence -- doesn't speak for itself. Carter probably wrote that speech in his head and was determined to give it, regardless of who showed up in the lounge to hear it. Gallant definitely erred, but my Lord, he didn't deserve to be tarred with Pratt's brush.
Gallant skulks out of the lounge, angry as a mild-mannered med student can be. He runs smack into Weaver, who's caning through the hospital on a rampage against Reverend Ed. "Thought I told you to get rid of that guy," she says. Gallant tries to explain, but she waves him off and calls for Pratt to take care of it. "Yeah, okay," Pratt says dismissively, never looking up from the phone. Obviously he's not planning to lend a hand. Even Las Vegas is refusing to give odds on that one.
Elizabeth enters the OR, where Romano is stitching together Stanley as best he can. "He had the unfortunate luck of passing through the ER butcher shop," snipes Romano. Right as Lizzie's about to dive in and help, the nurse tells her that Rachel is on the phone from Hawaii, and claims it's an emergency. Romano stares at Elizabeth and says simply, "Go."
Shakily, Elizabeth grabs the phone. "What's going on?" she asks. We don't hear the answer, but we see it in Elizabeth's face -- she closes her eyes, exhales tensely, and furrows her brow. It's clear: Mark's been tanning nude again.
Yokas and Bosco cruise past another member of their legion of scum. This time it's a druggie named Oleg, who catches one glimpse of Yokas and sprints off through a park. Groaning, Yokas heaves herself out of the car and runs after him. She's a fit woman. Bosco tenses and flips on the siren, speeding around to cut off Oleg's cowardly path. Susan chills out in the back seat, rifling through Mildly Perplexed expressions #43 through #47 and realizing she can consolidate two of them, and scrap #45 altogether -- pursed lips are so last year. Just as Yokas catches Oleg, Bosco pulls up in front of them and they slam against the hood of the car. Susan twitches. Bosco leaps out of the car. If there's an ass to be whooped, then his fist will find it. He slams Oleg against the car and pats him down, locating some drugs and tossing them onto the metal hood. They throw photos of Suzy and Chloe in front of Oleg's agonized face, and he whimpers that he thinks he saw Chloe at a shooting gallery in the back of the old carpet factory. Yokas and Bosco look amazed. But why? Aren't old abandoned industrial areas magnets for illegal activity? When was the last time a felon said, "There's a junkie hangout in the lobby of the Hilton," or "Drag the body to Santa Monica Pier at noon and throw it into the water"? Despite another hot helping of Bosco brutality, Oleg swears he doesn't know if Chloe had Suzy with her. Bosco spitefully tosses Oleg's wounded and bleeding body to the ground. "Have some respect for the badge," he booms. "You're bleeding all over my car." Yokas ignores all this, as usual, and hops in the rig with Bosco. "You may have broken his nose," Susan lectures stiffly. "No, he was always that ugly," Bosco shares.
Chen and Pratt are laughing near a patient's bedside. Great -- take one character I hate, add a new and hideous intern, and make them flirt. That's a recipe for a little casserole I like to call Revisiting What Heathen Ate For Lunch Today. Chen tells an approaching Carter that Pratt did a perfect spinal tap on the patient. "I told you to wait in the lounge," Carter sniffs. Pratt figures that wouldn't do anybody any good, especially since he has comprehensive notes on bypass surgery that he's eager to put to use. "Do what I tell you, when I tell you," Carter orders. "It's that simple. Don't make me be a hard-ass, okay?" This irks me. Gallant got treated like crap, and Pratt's been possessed of the worst, most individualistic and egotistical attitude since he arrived, yet he gets a mild lecture and a roll of the eyes. Won't someone haul off and smack him? Please? Carter sends Pratt off to show Gallant how to drain a perirectal abscess. Yup, what did I tell you? For as long as they're on Scut Duty, Pratt and Gallant will be The Ass Brigade.
Chen wonders what she missed between Pratt and Carter. "We need to keep an eye on him," Carter says, watching Pratt leave. "He's good," Chen states. "He's dangerous," counters Carter. Just then, he spies Abby sneaking out through the sliding doors and leaves Chen to follow his obsession.
Abby perches outside near the ambulance bay and quietly smokes. Carter strolls over and starts with small talk about Stanley's condition; Abby hasn't heard anything. "Want to talk about it?" Carter asks. "Nothing to talk about," Abby breezes. "Oh no?" Carter presses. Abby still shakes her head. Carter plops down to her and speculates that the drinking began after her assault. "I said I didn't want to talk about it," insists Abby, keeping her eyes off his face. "No, you said there was nothing to talk about," Carter corrects her. Abby tries to brush him off and says she can handle what's happening. He clearly thinks this is a pile of crap, but politely claims he's trying to help, not to shove the AA program down her throat. Abby mostly ignores him. "Six years, you know?" Carter laments. "That was then," she replies curtly. "I'm a different person now." Carter snorts, which puts Abby on the defensive. "I'm not shooting up! I had a beer. Stop trying to make it such a big deal," she says with a smile. It's annoying to me that Abby, who the writers used to anchor Carter during his struggle with painkillers, is now totally backtracking and becoming the one who shrugs off one drink here and there. I suppose it's realistic, and it happens to alcoholics all the time, but it's just making me cringe to hear her quite sincerely try to claim that it's no big deal that she's drinking beer again. "It's not the beer you had yesterday, or the two you'll want tomorrow," Carter notes. "Or the six that you'll want tomorrow..." "It's under control," interrupts Abby. "It's not a reaction, it's a decision." Carter's completely skeptical, but Abby's saved by an incoming ambulance. The trauma case is a thirty-five-year-old drunk driver who plowed through a red light en route to delivering a fresh case of anvils to County General.
Elizabeth hurries down the hall to talk to a cranky Romano. Of course, we can only distinguish Cranky Romano from the regular corker because Rocket actually cops to having a shitty day. Something about the stock market and his Jag. That, and the fact that Pratt served up a juicy filet of Stanley, really rankles Romano's rocks. Elizabeth urgently asks for time off. "I need a month in the south of France with Vietnamese twins, but it's not going to happen," he snaps. "It's Mark, he's sick," Elizabeth blurts. Romano's face is all, "Not that shtick again. Isn't he dead yet?" But he stops dead as she explains that Mark went to Hawaii with Rachel, but took a turn for the worse and can't fly back home. Romano quietly tells Elizabeth to join her husband, promising that they'll make do for as long as she must be gone. "Is there anything I can do?" he asks her retreating figure. Elizabeth turns and shoots him a plain, almost stern look. "Pray," she says primly. "Not exactly my strong suit," Romano replies. Huh? This from the man who said that God is love? "But in this case, I'll make an exception," adds Romano. Elizabeth decides that, rather than thanking him, she should bite back any trace of a smile and stalk out of the hospital. She's a charmer.
Abby, Luka, and Carter slave over the DUI victim. "This guy smells like a distillery," Carter complains. "Did he hurt anyone else?" And, later, Carter passive-aggressives, "I guess this is the downside to the three-martini lunch." He's staring at Abby very pointedly while he makes these remarks; Abby responds to none of this, because she doesn't speak Dipshit. Luka, visibly ill-at-ease, tries to ignore it. The whole thing is embarrassing. I don't recall Abby parading Carter in front of a bunch of pill addicts and saying, "They smell like a pharmacy! What repulsive assholes." But hey, maybe Carter really enjoyed fifth grade, and that's why he's regressing to it.
Susan hops out of the cop car and heads for the old carpet factory. "Smell that?" Bosco coughs. "Welcome to Urinetown." Bosco, Yokas, and Susan shine flashlights in dirty corners of the area, scanning drugged-up faces for any sign of Chloe or Susan. Bosco finally spots her and calls Susan over to identify the smackhead. "Chloe? Oh my God!" Susan cries, kneeling down and hugging her sister. "Chloe, wake up!" But Chloe's breathing is labored and sparse, and there's no sign of Suzy. Yokas calls for an ambulance and uses the word "forthwith." We fade to commercial in awe of her rejection of the more efficient word "now."
Turd Watch paramedic Alex arrives on the scene, while Susan yells out instructions. Alex and Kim, the ambulance drivers, are very polite and patient with her even as they ignore her. "She's gonna blow," Kim shouts. Bosco, whose sexual-favor radar is always humming, perks up and shouts, "Score!" But, alas, Kim is referring to the pink vomit trickling out of Chloe's mouth. Bosco is denied. Susan tries to get into the ambulance, but Alex kindly explains that it's against their policy, in addition to the fact that Susan isn't licensed to practice medicine in New York. But at the last second, Alex relents, and Susan barrels into the rig.
The DUI dude is D-E-A-D. "Give it up, Luka," sighs Carter. "You're not going to get him back. He tore out his aorta." He smacks the table. "What a waste," Carter hisses, storming toward the exit. "She's a big girl, Carter," Luka calls out. "Yeah, with a drinking problem," says Carter, turning and shooting Luka a look of pure poison. But Luka, luckily, is immune to this blend of Carsenic. "I don't tell people how to live," Luka says. Oh, whatever. Everybody tells each other how to live. It's a fact of life. Carter blames Luka for Abby's situation, based on the fact that she was drinking again while living under Luka's roof. "She's not a drunk," argues Luka. "Yes she is!" exclaims Carter, exasperated. "Are you stupid, or do you just not give a damn about her?" He inches closer to Luka, who is glaring alternately at Carter and the floor. I personally think Luka's realizing that Abby has bigger problems that he knew, and is possibly embarrassed to think that he never figured it out. But Carter isn't finished. "Or do you want her to keep drinking, is that it?" he rants, eyes glinting. "You like them a little vulnerable so you can play the caring, brooding comforter type?" Carter is right up to Luka now, shooting a searing stare through Luka's chin. Carter should avoid proximity with Luka, because it seriously strips him of any authoritative air. He just looks tiny and young and boyish, all of which are fine things, but all of which unfortunately contribute to the fact that he comes off as whiny and immature in this scene. Luka sets his jaw. "Don't push your luck, Carter," he growls. Carter blocks him from leaving. "What are you going to do? Are you going to beat me up? Gonna bash my head in?" he challenges Luka, eyes alight, barely a step shy of jumping up and down waving his fists in the air. It's like he's aching to play on the big-boy swings, but can't quite hoist himself up that high. Luka has the good grace not to smack Carter for that one, and tries again to shove past him and out the door. "If you're not helping her, you're hurting her," Carter yells. The arrival of Abby curtails further debate, as Carter stalks out indignantly. Luka shakes his head, while Abby appears to be looking for a few lost brain cells, because she acts like she has no idea what on earth could have caused Carter's little snit. Wow. It's not that I don't like Carter, or Noah Wyle. It's that I hate what the writers give him to do. There's no real way to sound mature when they're feeding you petulant dialogue.
In New York, Alex tries to calm a frantic Susan, who's still trying to help revive Chloe. "Sit on your hands, if you have to," Alex orders. "We're good at this. I promise." They try to draw out of a moaning and semi-conscious Chloe what drugs she took; she flatlines before they can get an answer. Susan lunges for some instruments. "Out of the way!" yells Alex. "I mean it! What did I tell you?" As Susan begs Alex to intubate, Alex tries repeatedly to get Chloe's heart beating. Susan watches with slight vexation.
Weaver charges through the ER and notices Reverend Ed encouraging some patients to worship the sweet little baby Jesus. "Pratt, I thought I told you to get rid of him," she bleats. Pratt shrugs that he tried to make Jerry do it, and Jerry amiably admits that the good preacher touched him and healed his sciatica. "It's gone," he grins. "So's your brain," mutters Weaver, turning and waving the cane of justice in the direction of Reverend Ed. He will feel its multi-pronged wrath. "Worry not, my child, and put your faith in His powers!" booms Ed. "Let the passion of His love heal you!" He abruptly grabs Weaver's forehead, and she convulses in surprise and irritation. "BELIEVE!" yells Ed. He then goes after her knees and she starts wrestling with him and screaming. People laugh, but only because they're paid to.
Pratt is one of the cackling masses. Carter casually informs him that Stanley's going to live, so Pratt dons a self-satisfied smile and serenely says, "I did the right thing." And for that, I hope the sweet little baby Jesus dooms Pratt to UPN for all eternity. Carter points out that he was more lucky than right -- Stanley could easily have died. Carter doesn't mention that it could easily have been only for the grace of God and Romano that Stanley survived the attempted thoracotomy. But Pratt's still taking this as a compliment. "But it didn't [go the other way]," he says smugly. "Not this time," Carter intones quietly.
Members of the Illinois Women's Health Coalition arrive in search of Weaver. "Dr. Romano said she was working," one of them says. Carter points to Kerry with a snicker, and we see that she's still battling Reverend Ed. "I don't want to see you in here again unless you're on a gurney!" brays Weaver, shoving him out the front door. Her visitors look startled. Ha ha ha. Oh, but no.
As she's leaving, Abby approaches Carter and nervously apologizes for being abrupt. "I didn't want you worrying about me," she says. "Not you. It's too complicated." Carter prods her to explain. "You and me," Abby says. "Us." Carter's pants tent just a fraction. "What us? Is there an us?" he stammers, trying to look nonchalant. "Like I said, it's complicated," Abby smiles uncomfortably. But there isn't any real romantic undertone to it that I can detect -- she sounds more like she didn't want him to find out about the drinking because of the role she played in his rehab. But hell, I'm the last person to presume to be clued into the writers' whims. Half the time, I don't think they know what's going on either. Abby thanks Carter for his concern, promises she's okay, and leaves.
Chloe rolls into consciousness to see Susan sitting at her bedside. Sadly for her, she's too weak to flee. Susan glares at her sister and demands to know where Suzy is. "She's with me," slurs Chloe. "She's not with you," snaps Susan. But Chloe is too out of it to help and can't handle a barrage of questions from her sister. She is only able to tear up and moan. "I don't know," wails Chloe. She starts crying. "He broke my heart," Chloe sniffles. "Where's Joe?" Susan almost shouts. "Is Suzy with Joe?" Chloe starts sobbing and repeating apologies over and over. "I screwed up," she weeps. Susan is too angry to comfort her sister. "Yeah, Chloe," she spits. "You screwed up."
Abby sits up ramrod straight in bed, woken up by a loud banging noise. Upset at her jitters, she flops back down with a scowl and heaves a sigh. We cut to her checking the myriad locks on the door before curling up on the couch and staring morosely at a half-empty beer on the coffee table. She eventually nudges it away with her hand and picks up the cordless, but doesn't want to give in and dial anyone (Carter), so she instead grabs the television remote and probably gets it out of her system by dialing his number into the cable box. She rubs her hair absently and looks miserable.
Susan stands on a pier staring at Manhattan's skyline. It's dawn, and Yokas is approaching with word that officers are canvassing the entire precinct in search of Suzy. "How's your sister?" Yokas asks kindly. "The detective wants to talk to her." Susan sadly replies, "She doesn't remember anything." Susan begins to get emotional, recalling that she heard the longer tots are missing, the worse the outcome tends to be, and that the first twelve hours are critical. Yokas bites her lip and can't deny this. She offers to take Susan to a hotel, but Susan politely declines because she's too freaked out to sleep. "Where's your partner?" she asks, an air of disdain in her voice. "He's out looking," Yokas nods. "When's your shift over?" Susan asks. "Oh, uh, it was over a few hours ago," Yokas says blithely. Susan appears to appreciate this, then turns toward the sky and closes her eyes, mustering up all the melodrama she possibly can. "She's only six years old," she rasps in this weird, wispy, shrill voice that's supposed to sound like she's crying, but instead comes across like someone just tweezed her neck hair. As the camera pulls away, Yokas promises, "We're gonna find her."
And, the rest of this storyline plays out on Third Watch, which I'll recap shortly as an ER Extra. See you there.