Previously on ER, Carter found out that Abby was off the wagon, then later squabbled with her over his obvious concern about the issue. Gallant repeatedly treated an apparent hypochondriac, Chem Glass from Popular, while the other doctors grew impatient with Gallant's insistence that she might have an actual medical problem.
We fade up on two silhouetted bodies in a bed, doing the mattress waltz. And in case you weren't sure exactly what all the writhing and kissing meant, the show thoughtfully added the sound of a speeding El train in the background. And, as it turns out, the lady vixen was indeed riding an "L" train of her own -- Luka. Somebody's been reading the message boards! Finally, this show gets its hottest cast member laid. Slowly, shots of sweaty gropings fade into the image of Dr. Luka "GQ" Kovac standing alone, staring morosely at the bed, and he's shirtless, and the curtains that are not Luka's missing shirt blow lightly behind him in a gentle shirt-free breeze; he stares out the window, and he's devoid of shirt, and in exposed-torso glory, Luka blinks in shirt-absent anguish and his chest pouts, and then too soon, my pixelated orgasm is over. Oh, pants.
"Time of death: 7:36 AM," says Abby "Angel of Death?" Lockhart, fishing an extremely ex-goldfish out of a giant aquarium. It's also an extremely enormous goldfish. Oh, the fish-fingers that would make. "Your fish coded?" Dr. John "Void? What Void?" Carter asks sadly. "Third time this week," Abby sighs, complaining that she re-stocks the damn thing and then every morning the inhabitants are mysteriously dead. Carter shrugs that someone else should tend to the fish. "I'm committed now," Abby replies, scooping her dead goldfish out of the water. "Committed fish killer," Carter deadpans. Abby glares at him and holds the corpse over Carter's coffee. "Don't, don't don't," he protests frantically, but she drops her precious fish into a fiery grave anyway. "Been meaning to cut down on my morning caffeine anyway," Carter blows it off, grinning. Unwashed Peasant #35 shows up to ask when they'll see him; they ignore him, and he disappears. Thanks for coming. Abby exposits that the aquarium is the brainchild of the Hospital Beautification Committee, which, in the absence of toenails to paint and hair to dye, has taken to beautifying the actual hospital itself. "It took years to get decent security, and two weeks for an aquarium," smirks Abby.
Carter follows Abby through a new-looking hallway. It's a fresh set, because they've fixed up triage to make it more secure. These people are hurdling time like it's a Honda at a monster-truck show. I think they're also shooting the show a little differently, because visually it's a tiny bit grittier and flatter. Aiming for casual interest and hitting somewhere closer to prying, Carter asks if "the gang" went out again last night. Abby gets all Fight Club on him -- "The first rule of Girls' Club is that you don't talk about Girls' Club." Not a problem, I don't think, because based on its initial ratings, absolutely no one is talking about girls club. Abby cracks that it was the usual shenanigans -- pillow fights, lesbian experimentation, etc., all of which will probably show up on the FOX show in the week or two when the girls realize that affluent males of ages 18-34 will buy what ads are selling them as long as there are jumping half-naked boobs, and also girl-on-girl action. Abby looks rough, rumpled. Carter notices the relatively unclogged patient board; this leads to a bored Pratt expositing that Mission General reopened and is easing their overcrowding issues. "Don't sound so depressed," Carter observes with amusement. "I'm waiting on some action," Pratt says. Yeah, I'll bet.
Elizabeth and Susan wander in, the former sporting her ever-so-flattering skull-hugging head-kerchief for sanitary surgery, and the latter looking like she was just burped up by a cyclone. "When I was at school, we ate dried eel and bitter almonds," Elizabeth offers. "I can live with the headache," Susan groans, tired. "Eel?" Carter asks, grossed out but interested. "For Susan's hangover," Elizabeth says. Chen, standing nearby, toasts Susan with her homemade hangover cure -- kudzi tea. Susan musters up enough energy to thank Abby gratefully for driving her home. "Sorry about your shoes," Susan whispers conspiratorially. Carter watches this through the transparent patient board, silently thanking the set designers for coming up with that wholly impractical, yet convenient device.
A TV news segment begins broadcasting live from outside County General, so everyone gathers at Reception to watch this. On TV, Weaver is standing in the ambulance bay, giving a spiel on flu shots. She looks totally ill at ease. She shoots up a pretty blonde reporter who we'll call Jane, all the while awkwardly telling the camera that getting a shot will save you from a painful flu season and make you devastatingly attractive burp emeralds. Smiling stiffly, Weaver then sticks the needle into a less pretty, un-blond male reporter who we'll call Stone. "Wow, that was like butter," he schmoozes, flashing a cheesy grin at the camera. Yeah. Butter that burns. Weaver has whitened considerably and is staring at his shoulder as if it's Romano's disembodied arm, floating around and attaching itself to random passers-by in an attempt to slap her out of a job. "What's the other one for?" Jane asks brightly, pointing to a second syringe lying on the table. Weaver's eyes are already saucer-wide, and as she stares hopelessly into the camera lens, reality dawns on Jane and Stone. Very slowly, though. Inside, everyone is silent. "Tell me she didn't forget to switch needles," Susan sighs, with little to no real concern. "She forgot to switch needles," Carter says, stunned. On TV, the cameraman pushes into a close-up of Weaver, in which you can see baggy under-eye circles and a terrified, deer-in-headlights expression. We fade to black wondering if the message is that lesbianism makes you tired and stupid.
Dr. Greg "Ima" Pratt sidles up to a triage nurse, stationed behind a plexiglass window, and starts trying to chat her up. The nurse has no interest in Pratt's smooth-as-glass-shards charisma. Abby passes and notices Pratt's lack of suavitude. "Nothing to do, Pratt?" she wonders lightly. "I'm orienting Lola," he sputters. "Mona," says the triage nurse boredly. Abraham Benrubi's name passes in the credits, and it's either an old card, or he's reverted back to the one-word spelling of his surname.
Abby proceeds into the triage waiting area and calls for one Melanie Shepherd, whose son is clinging to her leg. "I'll be back in a minute, honey," Melanie coos. "Where's Mommy going?" little Bobby asks. "Stop whining and sit down," spits Snappy Dad, shoving Bobby into a seat. Bobby -- for some reason not getting that his father's crabby and hates tears -- weeps that he wants to go home. "What are you, a baby?" Snappy Dad bitches. Bobby whimpers, because he's dumb. "Is that what big boys do?" brats Snappy Dad. "Shut UP!" Bobby sobs louder and louder, because he's the dumbest little boy in the world's long and storied history of dumb, which includes such gems as foot-binding, geocentrism, the flat-world theory, and Jennifer Love Hewitt.
Dr. Michael "A Hundred Times Better Than Pratt" Gallant passes Bobby and Snappy Dad and bristles at the commotion. "Mommy's not going to get better if you don't knock it off," Snappy Dad says cruelly, scarring his poor child for life. Bobby does the predictable thing and starts wailing, just like we knew he'd do. Bobby always wails. Ever since we've known him, he's been a wailer. "Sir, do you need anything?" Gallant asks politely. Snappy Dad fires back that an offer of help would've been nice three hours ago, when they first arrived. This upsets Bobby. I feel for Bobby, but at this point in our relationship, I think I know Bobby well enough to predict that a fluffy teddy bear would somehow upset Bobby. Spilled milk would pretty much send him straight to therapy. Of course, Snappy Dad is a total fuckpants, so that's also a factor.
Gallant hates this scene, and reluctantly backs away from it. He bumps into Pratt, who'd been watching with his typical mocking gaze. "Almost got yourself a badge, there, Mikey," Pratt condescends. "I'm guessing Eagle Scout." Gallant patiently explains that he didn't want to make the situation worse, so he stopped intervening. "Did you make it any better?" counters Pratt. "At least I tried," Gallant defends himself. But Pratt has walked away, seeking other moods to ruin.
At the front desk, Susan chats up Chen about her new martial arts fixation. "I was thinking judo, but I wanted something more aggressive," Chen explains. Pratt overhears this, and decides this might just be the time that he sweet-talks Chen clear out of her hospital clogs. "So you like it rough?" he leers. Instead of slapping him, Chen giggles that having a gun held to your head tends to bring out your inner bad-ass. Randi is there doing her best Angelina Jolie imitation, minus the Cambodian baby. Carter swings by and lets Gallant know that his "girlfriend" is seeking him; apparently, Chem's in the house, and she's whipping up a new batch of disease. "She's asking for Michael Gallant, MD," Carter says, his mouth twitching up at the corners. "I saw her four times last week," Gallant sighs, frustrated. Carter tells him to get Chem into a room, and Gallant reluctantly obliges.
Weaver is testing the reporters for diseases they might've swapped. No one, miraculously, seems pissed at her for shirking responsible medicine. Romano should at the very least be up in arms about this. "The tests are a precaution," Weaver says. "They should take an hour." Stone snorts that he'll be delighted to know what nasty infections Jane might've passed along. "Don't be such a jerk," Jane complains. "She used to date a bisexual," spits Stone. "He wasn't a bisexual! He was just open-minded!" shrieks Jane. Weaver excuses herself quickly so that Stone and Jane can argue and bicker and banter and spew venom until her legs hate their way open and his penis hates its way right over to her.
Bursting into the reception area, Weaver gripes that they don't have enough nurses on duty to reach their maximum nurse-to-patient ratio. She brandishes paperwork to prove it, as if stats and charts will somehow negate how stupid she just was. Why did they make Weaver stupid, too? It's bad enough that Romano was arm-choppingly stupid all of a sudden. But, here, she's probably right. Throw me a pie chart and I'll throw you respect. Weaver orders Randi to get Haleh on the phone to deal with this. "She's off today," Randi says. "I don't care. She's the nurse manager," Weaver retorts. "Nope, she resigned in September," Randi says. Weaver jolts upright. "Why wasn't I informed?" she complains. "You haven't been around that much," Susan points out. Randi leans over and compliments how Weaver's makeup looked on television, which galls Weaver into beating a hasty exit. But not before she hails Abby: "Could you come by my office later?" she requests. "Sure," Abby replies. "Dr. Romano's office?" Oh, wow, that was cold. Weaver is taken aback, and frankly, so am I. Busted! Weaver tries to play this off as if everything is okay, nothing to see here, and scurries away hastily. Abby stares after her, curious.
Gallant checks out Chem, who's all done up in her usual war paint. "I gave up cholesterol after our little talk, Michael," she beams. "You'll thank me later," Gallant says. "I'll thank you now," Chem husks. Ew. Carter meanders over to ask what Gallant uncovered; he says Chem's suffering chest pains. Chem, apparently protective of Gallant as her primary caregiver, insults an amused Carter by telling him that he resembles Howdy Doody. "I hate Howdy Doody," snarls Chem. But this doesn't make our fair Carter flee. Gallant points out that he's concerned about Chem's "dyspnea on exertion," or rather, shortness of breath. Carter knows Gallant is hinting at congestive heart failure. "Or her lungs are dry," Gallant points out. "Symptomatic ischemia." Usually, this is the kind of medical jargon that has my fingers taking a rest, but I looked this one up, folks, just for all you Gallant and Chem 'shippers out there. Ischemia means that her body tissues aren't getting enough oxygen because blood supply is being obstructed. That's as bare-bones as I can get with this one. Gallant recommends a course of treatment and requests that Chem be put in a monitored bed upstairs. "That's premature," Carter dismisses him, ordering Gallant to study her charts and old test results to see if the differences are sharp enough to warrant a cardiology consult. "Can I go out and have a smoke first?" Chem asks. Gallant just blinks at her.
An older African-American man named Thomas, who appears slightly dazed and a little confused, sits down with Susan, who apparently treats his light head wound as a nurse normally would. Carter passes. "A nurse's work is never done," he smiles, moving to help her. Susan is grateful. Carter asks about her hangover; she insists she's feeling much better thanks to aspirin and caffeine. Neither of which ever works for me. It's all about grease, people. Burgers and fries. "Yep, Abby said it was a good time," Carter says conversationally. Susan snorts. "Don't worry, she hasn't cheated on you since that stripper named Thor," she deadpans. Carter reserves his right to be concerned, but Susan strings along the joke about Thor and his G-string, and I kind of wish I were watching that show instead. "No, I mean [concerned] about her drinking," Carter says. "I'm the one who barfed," Susan giggles. "Yeah, but she's the alcoholic," Carter says casually, as if he is labeling Abby something as simple as "blonde" or "nurse" or "haggard." Susan stares at him, motionless -- appalled, I hope, at his social gracelessness. Carter makes a pointed comment about how hard it is to stay on the wagon when you're out barhopping all the time, and he's all subtly condescending about it, like, put down the gavel, Judge Judy, you're addicted to painkillers and yet you work around them all day. Don't call the kettle a fuck-up if you're not prepared for it to pour scalding water on your handle until it burns itself off.
Finally, Carter clues into Susan's cluelessness. "I thought you knew!" he whispers. Why, is it written on the back of Abby's scrubs? Susan gapes that Abby doesn't drink "that much," so Susan never even considered the idea that Abby might be addicted. Evidently, Abby isn't spending that much time with Carter, if she's out with the ladies all the time and she's drinking. If she came home to Carter, he'd smell that on her in a half-second and withhold sex. "What's 'not that much'?" Carter presses. Susan insists that he talk to Abby instead, since this continues to be none of her business. Carter rips off his rubber gloves in a fit of pique. He'll show those rubber gloves who's boss.
Abby interrupts the moment, calling Carter's attention to a patient's file. She can't help noticing that a 500-pound gorilla is humping Carter's leg. "What's wrong?" she asks. No one speaks. "Nothing," Carter finally says, snatching the files out of her hand and running off to go walk on water somewhere. Susan lamely attempts to change the subject, but Abby's on to her. Susan exhales guiltily. "Carter assumed I was in the loop," she confesses. Abby doesn't get it. "The drinking loop," Susan clarifies, clearly uncomfortable. Abby stares at her, then averts her eyes, humiliated. "Oh," she says in a small voice. "He's concerned," Susan says, trying to defend Carter's loose lips, but sadly the ship has already sunk. Abby chases Susan through the halls, spewing desperate explanations to the effect that she didn't want Susan to feel uncomfortable around her because of the alcoholism; she just wanted them to have a fun time. Susan insists that it's absolutely not something she will discuss because it isn't her issue, which is totally right. Abby follows her into the ladies' room, because the horse has to be dead before she can beat it into oblivion. "I'm sorry he got you into it," she apologizes. Susan seems like she really wants this conversation to end. "It was an accident," she swears. "Well, it's not like it's a big secret, either," Abby says, killing the poor horse right there on the bathroom floor.
Suddenly, a needle clatters to the floor. After a painful pause, a hand snatches it back up. Abby and Susan swap confused, nosy looks. Inside the stall, we see a terrified-looking Weaver. She finally decides to suck it up and leave with her head high. She exits the stall. "Kerry," Susan says. "Susan," Kerry nods awkwardly. "Abby." Oh, good, they all know each other. Weaver looks incredibly uncomfortable, and we smash-cut into the commercials wondering what Kerry's problem is with needles today.
After the break, Susan and Abby are chewing the fat about the syringe mystery. "You don't think she could be..." Susan trails off. "No chance," Abby stops her. "That's what it looked like!" argues Susan. "Weaver? The straightest gay woman since Janet Reno?" Abby snorts. "I don't think so." Susan sasses that perhaps Kerry was practicing her flu-shot technique. Unwashed Peasant #35 makes an unwelcome return to ask if he can be treated yet. "Later," Susan snaps. "Go back to your seat, Phil." He shuffles away. Chuny calls Abby away to another patient, but before she goes, Abby wants to take a steam-roller to the horse's cadaver, because beaten dead horse looks better when it's squashed into a bloody pulp. "Listen," Abby begins. Susan immediately looks for an instrument with which to slice off her ears and mail one each to Carter and Abby in silent, crimson protest. "It's not something I talk about much," Abby stammers. "We're friends, Abby," Susan reassures her. "If you want to talk, you know where I am, and if not, that's okay too." Abby thanks her without making eye contact, and leaves hastily.
Gallant has asked the cardiologist -- the acerbic Dr. Kayson -- to check out Chem. "Did you get meatloaf this time, [Chem]?" he snarks. "I'm a vegan now," she nods importantly. "Good for you," Kayson sneers, walking away and writing her off as a simple case of costochrondritis, which is defined as inflammation of the ribs at the point where they connect with the sternum. Apparently, it can impede comfortable breathing. Pratt is watching Gallant deal with Kayson. Gallant is more deeply concerned about Chem, but Kayson won't be convinced. "The only exercise the old bird gets is lifting a match for her cigarettes," Kayson sneers. "Send her home on Naprosyn," Pratt offers from the cheap seats. "You still work here?" snaps Kayson. "Last time I checked," Pratt fires back. Gallant interrupts again to say that he's concerned with Chem's progressing dyspnea. "When you become an actual doctor, Mr. Gallant, then you can make a diagnosis," Kayson assholes. Gallant looks as if his gut just took a hard punch; Pratt eats this up, because he is a prick who feeds on the meek.
Gallant makes one more gentle plea. "I just thought you might want to monitor [Chem] in cardio," he says, uncomfortably. Kayson spits at an approaching Carter, "I don't know why your student calls me in for a consult and then refuses to accept my advice." Maybe because you're not really paying attention to the case? Just a thought. Two words: bedside manner. Carter stammers that Gallant is simply trying to be thorough, which technically is not a crime in most states. Except perhaps Arkansas. We're watching you, Arkansas. Kayson snarls that Chem's been admitted ten times in two years for a rule-out myocardial incident (heart attack), and has always had a flat T-wave, which...I don't know what that means, but it sounds like the opposite of a perm. "time, check the records," Kayson hisses. "I did," Gallant pipes up. "Then you know I already cathed her," Kayson shouts. "So much for thoroughness!" He leaves in a blue fit.
Carter turns to Gallant and gently asks if he really did check the chart. Here, it's interesting -- Gallant says something that sounds like, "No, I checked the chart," but he drags a little on the "no," gives it a bit of a vowel-ish tail, and the closed-captioners transcribed it as "Noah, I checked the chart." If I hadn't been watching with the captions on, I wouldn't have noticed, I don't think; because I did, though, I watched it a few times and I honestly couldn't tell if he really flubbed and called Noah Wyle by his real name, or if it was just a badly enunciated "no." I prefer to think it's a blooper. Anyway, Gallant swears on several Bibles that he checked the histories, and that there's no record of Chem being cathed since 2000. "Maybe he cathed her before that," Pratt offers. "A lot could've changed since then," Gallant says, testily. Carter shrugs that it's moot point -- Kayson won't admit Chem, so that's that. Hey, Carter? You look lovely all bent over like that. Really. This scene drags on; basically, no one will listen to Gallant or go out of the way to help poor Chem. Abby ends the scene by calling Carter away for a chat. As an olive branch, and it's a thin one, Carter offers to let Chem hang out until her labs come back. Lovely offer.
Abby squares off with Carter. "I talked to Susan," she says bluntly. Luka interrupts to call Abby to the bed of a girl with a probable urinary tract infection, so Abby promises to be brief; Carter, however, has no interest in mature social interaction, so he toddles off to take care of an incoming trauma patient, leaving Abby in his dust.
The patient is a Latino man found in a seizure at a phone booth. Pratt is also there, offering up little Prattisms like "He's got a good DBI -- dirtball index. Big dog, lots of tattoos." Gallant isn't too impressed with this. "Oh, so he's going to be all right because he's got tattoos?" he says sarcastically, which is really a pretty sweet attempt at being harsh coming from the show's resident cuddly kid. My shoe gives me more lip. "Good guys die, bad dogs walk," growls Pratt. Shut up, Pratt. They wheel the patient into a trauma room, where Gallant notices that the man is from the military.
Elizabeth is with old addled Thomas, trying to get him to sign some paperwork. He stubbornly refuses, saying it's always Margaret's job to do that. "She can't," Elizabeth says. "That's why I need you." Thomas shakes his head. Frustrated, but oddly in a very quiet and non-shrewy way, Elizabeth is relieved when Chuny says that Margaret is waking up; they go to her, leaving Thomas behind. Elizabeth introduces herself to the kindly older woman, explaining that she was in an accident. "Is Thomas okay?" Margaret panics. Elizabeth nods and explains that Margaret suffered a spleen laceration that requires surgery, but that Thomas feels unable to sign the consent forms. Margaret's eyes widen, and she shakes her head. "Operation? I can't," she frets. Elizabeth is pretty sure she can, and should. Margaret explains that Thomas can't cope for any number of days without her because he's got Alzheimer's disease. Elizabeth is stunned, but recovers and promises that Margaret won't be incapacitated for long; if she doesn't get the surgery, she'll leave Thomas alone for good when she bleeds to death. Good point. Score one for the redhead. Margaret concedes. This concludes the latest installment of "Why Is This In The Show?: Dead-End Subplot of the Week."
In Trauma Yellow, Carter, Pratt, and Gallant work on their military man -- Felix Hernandez. "PERR," Carter says with a giggle. "Pupils Equal, Round, and Reactive." Pratt is arrogantly amused that Carter is trying to learn to speak Jackass, and laughs his jacked ass off. Two of Felix's cohorts enter, worried. We'll call them Mutt and Jeff, for absolutely no good reason. "You okay, man?" they shout at Felix. Carter explains that they're pumping him full of sweet, sweet life-saving juices. Apparently, they were all out late partying last night, because they're on leave. Carter arches an eyebrow and asks if Felix dabbled in a little illegal sauce, like cocaine or ecstasy or scalding chili. "Just beer and bourbon," they shrug. Carter doesn't buy it, and Mutt and Jeff bristle; Carter presses that it seems Felix shows signs of toxins in his bloodstream, and hints that Mutt and Jeff made Felix their prank monkey by spiking his booze. Mutt gets angry. Or maybe it's Jeff. They're the same character. One of them gets really upset at the implication that they jerked a friend around like that, and Gallant tries to calm them down. "Easy, Sergeant," Gallant coos. "We need to be sure." Mutt and Jeff promise they wouldn't do that to a friend. Carter sends them outside to wait while they try to save the unconscious Felix.
Outside the trauma room, Gallant tries for a little male bonding, peppering Mutt and Jeff with questions about their regiment and what action they've seen. I think the theme of this episode is "seeing action," since Pratt was complaining that, on several levels, he's getting no action, and Luka got random action. Nice theme. week, maybe the theme can be "good drama." Please? Gallant excitedly offers up the morsel that he's in the Army, all giddy with the ass-slap delightful coincidence of it all. "Medical corps," he says, proudly. "Why are you here?" Mutt asks. "I'm finishing medical school," Gallant smiles. Mutt and Jeff think this sounds weak. "Must be rough," they snark. "We spent the last three months jumping out of Black Hawks on the Pakistani border." Hey, don't shit on Gallant! He saw a guy with a gunshot wound in his eye. That's some madness right there. "Hey, let us know when our buddy's back," Jeff says, as they leave with derisive chuckles at Gallant's expense. Gallant, alone, looks sad that he wasn't all that he could be in front of Mutt and Jeff; he catches the eye of a watching Pratt, who apparently is an office voyeur of the worst kind. Does he have a crush on Gallant? I think he does. I think this is homoerotic surveillance we're witnessing.
It burns when Marlene pees. She's bummed about it, understandably, because no one wants to shoot flames out her urinary tract. Except possibly circus freaks, and maybe someone like Pamela Anderson. Abby points out that Marlene's got a low-grade fever as well, so the poor kid is just burning all over. And, aw, she's here with her mother on a bonding trip to see the Shedd Aquarium and other such colorful sights of Chicago. Luka asks Marlene if she's had many UTIs before. "Yeah, a bunch," she shrugs. "Usually clears up with a bunch of antibiotics." Marlene's mother -- a hot blonde in classy black duds -- twirls her daughter's hair and sighs that she got Bactrim from Marlene's regular doctor, but that she left it at home in Milwaukee. Luka smiles at the mother and inches forward, asking Abby to dip a urine. The promise of imminent dipping is evidently enough to turn Ho Mommy's crank. She twinkles at Luka. "What kind of accent is that?" she wonders. "What accent?" Luka plays dumb. "Come on, where are you from?" giggles Ho Mommy. "Don't think you've heard of it," Luka muses. "A place called Idaho." Ho Mommy laughs too hard. Marlene looks like she wants to shoot the fire in her urinary tract straight at her slut mother. "You like potatoes?" Luka flirts. "Who doesn't?" Ho Mommy leers. Marlene rolls her eyes and looks uncomfortable with all these ridiculous come-ons, begging her mother to please get her some food, since she's in the hospital and everything. Ho Mommy promises to go to the cafeteria, ogling Luka seductively the whole time. Luka silently thanks the Bishop for sending him cheap sex.
Chuny approaches Abby in the hallway and hands her some official-looking paperwork. "Why are you giving me this?" Abby says, blinking at it blankly. Chuny announces that she wants Friday off. "And I'd like a month in the Bahamas," Abby says, still clueless. "I'll settle for a long weekend at my cousin's," Chuny replies. Abby manages to brush all this off, despite its obvious oddness, and asks Jerry for Marlene's labs. Jerry doesn't have them. Does Jerry ever have them? What Jerry does have, however, is some origami. "It's a swan," he says proudly. "No, it's not," Abby insists rudely. "I think it is," Jerry counters, wounded. "You should hang it on the refrigerator to your report card," sasses Abby, leaving. She bumps right into Marlene, who's acquired a wheelchair and is tooling around the hospital. I did that once at a nursing home at which I worked in grade eleven. I ended up running into a wall and bruising my foot. A drooling old guy totally pushed me. Don't ask. "We are waiting for your labs," Abby informs her. Marlene smiles beatifically and says she was just getting bored in her room. "Too many sick people," she says. "Where's your mom?" Abby asks curiously. Marlene says she's still in the cafeteria getting food. Uh huh. Sadly, Marlene sighs that they were supposed to do so much cool stuff in Chicago, and yet there they are at the hospital, and as kick-ass as a urine dip is, it's just not the same as the Shedd Aquarium. A lightbulb turns on over Abby's head. She should turn it off; it makes her highlights look green. At any rate, she's inspired, and she wheels Marlene off to the hospital fish tank.
Chem is still in bed. Gallant is still trying to get her a bed. Nothing to see here.
Mutt and Jeff grab Gallant, eager to hear Felix's prognosis. Apparently, tests ruled out a tumor, so they're doing a charcoal slurry to check for the presence of drugs in his GI tract. "Charcoal Slurry" sounds like the name of a thoroughbred. Of course, Mutt and Jeff freak out, because they're annoying, so Gallant has to remind them that their friend might be really sick, and they have to diagnose the problem. Satisfied with the idea of medical knowledge being put into practice, Mutt and Jeff follow Gallant inside to Felix's bed.
Felix chooses this exact moment to wake up. A master of timing is he. But he's very groggy. "Is Elena here?" he mumbles. Mutt and Jeff couldn't reach her, so no, she's not there. Felix looks disappointed. "Are my eyes open?" he asks suddenly, inching toward full-on panic. Mutt and Jeff, sensitive lads, order Felix to shut up, because he's such a wacky prankster in his dire state of medical crisis. But Felix isn't kidding. He's blind. "I can't see you," he panics. "I can't see anything." Gallant grimly calls for a scope, an eye doctor, and Carter.
Abby peers into her little aquarium of death. Yes, we really are sitting through fish-tank action here. Riveting, isn't it? "Not quite Shedd, but it's the best we've got," Abby smiles at Marlene, who admires the fish with amusement. "You could be overfeeding them," Marlene suggests. Abby frets that the water smells a bit off. "Or maybe someone else is," Marlene continues. Oh, please can this be the resurrection of the Angel of Death storyline? That would be the absolute ultimate in stupidity. "Or maybe it's our funny way of warning people they're entering the House of Death," Abby grins. Marlene asks Abby if she's a good nurse. Abby chews on this, then nods. "I'm technically proficient, despite certain attitude issues," she smirks. Marlene shakes her head and sadly says they should've stayed in Milwaukee; apparently, her parents are getting divorced. Marlene and Abby commiserate. Doesn't Abby have patients to deal with? Abby tries to shine a brighter light on the girl's grim mood, joking that she can at least double up on her presents and enjoy the tomfoolery inherent in playing one parent against the other. "I did that before anyway," shrugs Marlene. "Now I just live with my mom." Abby smiles that mothers can be pretty cool, and that she grew up with just a mother and look how well she's turned out -- she's an emotionally closed-off divorced alcoholic who had a secret abortion. She's a role model.
Susan approaches in search of Unwashed Peasant #35. Susan's surprised to see that Marlene is still there, awaiting lab results. "Whatever she says about pet care, disregard," Susan whispers to Marlene. She then heads off in search of Unwashed Peasant, and bumps into Ho Mommy exiting a random closet, adjusting her dress to make sure her breasts don't pop out, as they're so wont to do. "Oh, uh, excuse me," Ho Mommy says, leaving her dignity on the floor as she scurries away. Shortly thereafter, Luka exits the closet and Susan stares right at him, watching the uncomfortable hottie adjust his shirt. "I, uh, misplaced an x-ray," he says. Apparently, he had to scour all available hiding places, thereby leading to a thorough excavation of Ho Mommy's birth canal. "Did you find it?" Susan smirks. Luka exhales hard and shakes his head, blushing slightly. "Checked everywhere," he says. As he walks away, rumpled and guilty, Susan follows him with an amused and slightly grossed-out stare. We cut to commercial wondering if Abby should peek up Ho Mommy's crotch in search of Marlene's missing lab results.
In the lounge, Susan sighs that she can't seem to avoid stumbling onto people's secrets today. "Luka and the UTI mom?" Abby says, aghast but also a tad tickled. "Yeah!" Susan giggles. "Is this kind of thing normal in Croatia?" Abby snickers that they call it "alternative medicine" over there, because foreign countries are funny and crazy and uncivil because they're all different from us. Susan tries to keep her mirth in check, since technically, Luka just nailed a patient's mother, and that's going a little above and beyond the traditional bedside manner requirement. Hee, I just about made myself puke imagining what it would've been like if Mark Greene had been handed this storyline. There are two words for that: "Ew" and "EW." And also, "As if." Abby wants to know where Susan found them; apparently, it was a storage closet in Radiology. "So strange," chortles Abby. "Neurology's so much more cozy." Susan cracks up at the idea of Abby and Luka humping and pumping their way through the hospital. "We stuck to beds, mostly," Abby smirks. Susan decides that Abby should talk to him about it, since they're better acquainted, but Abby begs off, giggling that Susan's the one who found him and so Susan should be the one to spank the sin out of him. Um...I mean, "confront him."
Carter asks if they've gotten the labs back on Felix yet. He's at the front desk with Gallant, who answers that the eye doctor can't give a good assessment of ocular damage until they've pinpointed the cause of Felix's blindness. Abby offers that Felix had no discernible blood-alcohol level, then offers to pick up coffee for everyone. Carter curtly refuses this offer, still in a bitter funk over Abby's recent descent from the wagon. This doesn't go unnoticed by Abby, who nevertheless exits quietly.
Felix's toxicology tests came back negative, which confounds Carter. Gallant gingerly points out that Quinine, an anti-Malaria drug, is readily available to servicemen and might not show up in the hospital's tox screen. Pratt listens with interest, because again, he's there. Still trying to scare up some action. I think he's in love with Gallant. Carter observes that Felix would've had to ingest an awful lot of Quinine to have such a negative reaction. "I know," Gallant answers quietly, grimly. Carter seems to digest the implication that it was deliberate. Pratt offers to talk to Felix, which is a splendid idea given what a complete pricky doofus he is. Carter senses that this is personal for Gallant, and orders Pratt to let Gallant handle it. Pratt looks put-out, then quickly covers. "Give it your best shot, Mikey," he says, the picture of jocularity. He laughs. But he only laughs because he loves.
Ho Mommy leans alluringly against the wall, chatting up Luka. He's enjoying it. He's basking in a blaze of post-coital glory. Ho Mommy suggests that he come visit her in Milwaukee. "I hear they have good beer," Luka grins. "You're very informed about U.S. regional consumables," Ho Mommy actually says. No, she really does. Isn't that hot? There's nothing like agriculture to inspire the inner erotic in all of us. Susan catches sight of this hopeless display of hormones and pulls Luka aside under the auspice of being concerned about Marlene's labs. She wants to discharge the girl, since she's been there for four hours with a simple UTI. Luka yammers about reflux. I don't know. He's concerned about Marlene, and also wants to complete another vaginal examination on Ho Mommy. Susan completely cottons onto this, too, and calls him on it. "Her work-up isn't finished," Luka insists. "Her mother's is," Susan states. "And unless you have additional stamina, there's not further reason to keep them here." Luka argues that Marlene's at risk of renal trouble and he needs her there until the results come back. Susan finally gets down to brass tacks: she doesn't want him boffing the customers. Luka hangs his head a little, but bites his lip endearingly, suggesting that while he's aware he's in the wrong, he's not in a hurry to permanently correct his antics either. Susan strongly urges him to get the labs, write a prescription, and put this behind them.
Pratt overhears all this. All he does in this episode is horn in on other people's action while in search of his own. Pratt? This action doesn't need to be horned, okay? Go tip a cow and leave us be. Luka then gets the labs back on Marlene; she's officially got kidney trouble. Luka stares into her room, where Ho Mommy and Marlene are giggling and talking, and looks sad at the loss of young life and the probable loss of a sure lay.
Felix anxiously asks whether Elena has called. Gallant sadly informs him that she has not; Felix is pretty sure this means she isn't going to call. But at least he's starting to see shapes. "You get my peepers going, I'll be fine," he says morosely. Gallant backs into the subject of the Quinine and whether Felix would've had access to it; Felix plays dumb until Gallant points out that Quinine can induce blindness if taken in huge doses. Defensively, Felix lies that they probably just overdosed him when he was overseas, but unfortunately, Gallant's trained in medicine and so he can identify horseshit when he sees it. "Would've been something you ingested in the last twelve hours," Gallant says gently. He prods Felix into admitting what happened; there's a lengthy bit where Gallant tries to bond with him about how hard it is being in the military, going away from your family for such long periods, and hoping everything will pick up where it left off when you get home. "It's easy to forget that life keeps going, sometimes without you," Gallant muses. Felix finally admits that Elena must've gotten tired of waiting for him. "Just fix me up, okay?" he whispers sadly. "Just fix it." Gallant nods and offers to bring down someone from Psych, but Felix desperately begs him not to because it will jeopardize all he has left: his military career. He and Gallant swap intense eye contact, made even more impressive by the fact that, technically, Felix can't see Gallant's eyes and wouldn't know where they would be. "It was a split second," he wheedles. "Please." Now he's staring right through Gallant, like he just remembered he's blind. Gallant awkwardly clears his throat and offers to set him up at another clinic that can give him counseling without it going on his medical record. "I'll follow it up," he warns. "You won't have to," promises Felix gratefully. "I'll be okay this time." Gallant picks up on the hollowness of that statement and gazes somberly at his patient.
Marlene wants to know if Abby's fish have croaked yet. "I'm much better with human patients," Abby grins. "You must not be a Pisces," Marlene jokes. Abby threatens her with the dark promise of a meatloaf lunch. Apparently, hospital meatloaf is an object inspiring a great deal of fear and loathing. When Luka enters the room, Ho Mommy brightens considerably and thrusts her chest ever so slightly forward. She does, really. "I was wondering where you were," she hos. Luka looks hot, but uncomfortable. He doesn't pull punches, either: Marlene's test results show chronic renal failure. Abby's ears perk up at this and she listens. Ho Mommy is stunned. Luka adds that they need to take an ultrasound of the kidneys to better understand the extend of the problem. Ho Mommy is still stunned. Marlene is handling it like a champ; Abby promises her that it's fast, easy, and painless to take photos of her liver, plus they come with forty-eight free wallet-size copies. Ho Mommy? Ho stunned. "I thought it was just an infection," she stammers. "That's what we were hoping for," Luka says quietly. Abby wheels Marlene around, reiterating how painless this will be. "As long as I'm not a fish," Marlene grins. "Mom, don't forget to call Dad." Abby takes her for a spin down the hall, leaving Luka with Ho Mommy. "Should I be scared?" Ho Mommy trembles. "Won't make it any easier," Luka says. Ho Mommy blinks back her ho tears and ho trots out of the room.
Abby runs into Carter; he actively ignores her, because he's twelve. She trots to keep up with him and asks how late he's working. "I have to stick around for the shift change," he says distractedly. They're in the drug lock-up now. "I can hang around," Abby offers. "How does 'a couple burgers, some shakes, and maybe see if you get lucky' sound?" she smiles. "I haven't had an offer that good since eighth grade," Carter breathes, not smiling but at least deigning to talk to his girlfriend now. "Yeah, but I'm treating. Thirteen-year-old girls never treat," Abby points out. "In boarding school, they do," Carter replies. Abby, feeling confident, flirts that Carter should make her a counter-offer. His face turns cold and he changes the subject back to work and flees, because again, he's kind of juvenile and he's probably preoccupied with all the downy hair appearing on his body.
"Is this 'backing off'? Because I prefer 'butting in,'" Abby says, chasing him. "I took care of that this morning," Carter snaps. "I think I blew your cover." Abby swears she doesn't care about that; she just wants the two of them to clear the air. "I think it's pretty clear," he snarls. As they reach Reception, Mona the triage nurse hands Abby her time-sheet. "Why are you giving me that?" Abby sighs, exasperated. "You're the nurse manager," Mona says boredly. "No," Abby avers. "I'm not." Jerry sidles up to her and corrects her by handing her a memo from Weaver. Abby snatches it and reads it. "Weren't you supposed to see her today?" Carter asks. "Yeah, I kind of dodged that," Abby mutters. "Funny how that happens," Carter sasses rudely. Abby crumples up the memo and spits, "I had rounds." Jerry watches all this pleasantly, enjoying that it's not his life. "You kids fighting?" he asks. "Shut up, Jerry," Carter says. Jerry encourages Carter to talk to Abby, which is met with a stony glare. "I'm just trying to navigate love's wavy waters," waxes Jerry. Carter grabs the origami swan and bites its head off, because maybe, just maybe, that Ozzy Osbourne was onto something. Jerry whimpers that he's not sure what they have against paper today, but it's nasty, and he cradles his decapitated paper swan with adorable disappointment.
Gallant appears and notices security guards floating around. Jerry exposits that they have a suicidal guy they need to take to a locked Psych ward. Nervous and cold, Gallant asks for the chart and freezes when he sees the name there: Felix. "Where's Pratt?" he snarls.
Seeking Pratt, Gallant runs away past Chuny, who's treating a hurling man. Of course she is. There always has to be a hurling man.
"Did you redo the Hernandez chart?" Gallant seethes at Pratt. "Because I marked it 'accidental.'" Pratt doesn't care, because he knows in his prat gut that Felix was trying to off himself. "Look, that was not your call to make," Gallant says, trying not to shout. "What's yo' problem, brotha-man?" Pratt says. Oh, shut UP, Pratt, for Jeebus's sake. "I'm trying to watch your back!" Gallant hisses that he's got plenty of actual brother, so he doesn't need a fake jackass brother in the mix. "You don't need a malpractice suit, either," Pratt says airily. Gallant starts to snap. "Why are you always riding me?" he bellows. Pratt claims that Gallant never sticks up for himself and wasn't forceful enough with Kayson. "Look, okay, you know what? I do things the way I do things," Gallant levels with him. "You and me, we're different." Pratt insists they're not, and that they're just two misfit toys trying to fit in with the rest of the Christmas swag. "The only difference is, I'm doing it by being a man," Pratt says, trying his best to drip testosterone and coming off merely as an oily tick.
Abby screams that Chem is in trouble. Carter, Gallant, and Pratt all rush to her; she's collapsed in the hallway. They load her onto a gurney while Gallant begs her to wake up for him. "She looks white," Pratt says. She is white, Pratt. Carter yells for a crash cart and starts administering mouth-to-mouth, which makes me sad for Chem, because really, a little lip action is probably most of what she was after, and now she's too unconscious and dying to enjoy it. Gallant exposits that she's got unstable angina. "Shouldn't she have been on a monitor?" Abby asks. Gallant glares at Carter, but says nothing. All frantic attempts to revive Chem fail; Abby fights to make Carter hear her suggestion that they move Chem into an actual room. Carter of course pretends not to hear her, until it becomes apparent that their patient is dying IN A HALLWAY in a busy hospital, and he's being all Petty McChildish. He sends Jerry to page Kayson, and they wheel Chem into Trauma Green. Gallant looks crushed.
Inside, Gallant compresses Chem's chest, but her heart won't beat. The paddles aren't working. Pushing drugs isn't working. Gallant notices that Chem's breath sounds are decreasing on the right side. "You put the tube in too far," he complains. Pratt claims that he put it exactly as far in as it was supposed to go. Oh, get a room, boys. They banter and bicker and Carter makes Pratt pull out by two millimeters, and the sexual tension palpable enough that Chem would be lighting a cigarette right now, if she wasn't knocking on Heaven's door.
Kayson enters. "Ah, the girl who cried wolf," he sasses. He's utterly unconcerned that Chem's in serious arrest. This even manages to piss off Pratt; Kayson watches with little interest as they enter Chem's twelfth minute of not breathing.
Elizabeth is with clueless Thomas. Remember this storyline? Truncated filler crap? Yeah. Lizzie is trying to explain that they removed Margaret's spleen, but that there's some liver damage and she's on a ventilator indefinitely. Naturally, Thomas has no recollection of who Margaret is, because his Alzheimer's is advanced. What the hell is this story? No point. It's barely a blip. "Do you remember why you're here?" Elizabeth finally asks. "I remember," lies Thomas. "I remember everything." Elizabeth stares at him and hangs her head as the Tinkling Piano of Old People Are Sad plays us into the scene.
Chem's been down for thirty-nine minutes. She's toast. She's burnt toast. Kayson calls it. The piano music changes to Beethoven's little-known Hypochondriacs Can Get Sick, Too symphony in A Minor. "Any family?" Carter asks. "Nobody," Gallant spits bitterly. "She didn't have nobody." Grimly, Kayson whips out some stats to cover his ass, claiming that based on what he saw and knew of Chem, 99% of the time, nothing would've happened. "Gotta go with the odds," he shrugs. "If you like to gamble," Pratt fires back. Gallant shakes his head slowly. "Progressive dyspnea, suggesting symptoms of cardiac ischemia," he murmurs. Carter senses that Gallant's going to explode and tries to shush him, but he fails. "I let you miss the signs," he chides himself. "She was a batty, self-medicating hypochondriac," Kayson counters. "Who you didn't feel like dealing with!" Gallant shouts. He rails that if they'd only admitted her, they'd have caught this and saved her life. "If you felt that strongly, you should've spoken up," Kayson shouts. "He tried to!" Pratt yells. "Is anyone talking to you?" hisses Kayson. Hee. Gallant screams that all Kayson's years of experience amounted to jack shit here -- Chem died because no one took her seriously. "Easy, son," snarls Kayson. "I am not your son," growls Gallant, fighting tears. Carter makes Pratt drag Gallant outside for a breather.
"Are you training doctors or pit bulls?" Kayson asks haughtily. Carter defends Gallant's emotional outburst. "Maybe we should've put her on a monitor," allows Kayson. "Maybe you should've paid attention to her," Carter dares to say. Kayson figures that patient care is an inexact science that's all about taking "calculated risks." Abby cocks her head. "I thought it was about taking care of the patient," she says coolly. Kayson snorts and leaves, foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog, or a delicious can of sweet, cold, delicious beer.
Outside Trauma Green, Gallant is leaning against a wall, white-knuckling a metal bar. Pratt is patting him on the back and complimenting him on being a man, and how what he just did is what a man would do, and could he please manhandle him. Seriously, it looks like Pratt wants to turn him around and plant a testosterone-flavored kiss of manly manhood on him. When did this show become Smallville? Gallant spins around and storms away, Pratt chasing him like a jilted lover. Gallant turns around and grabs him. From the Trauma room, Abby and Co. yell for Gallant to stop. But does he? Why, no. In a whirlwind of pent-up anger, Gallant hauls off and socks Pratt in the eye. "Do not call me 'Mikey,'" he growls threateningly. Pratt collapses to the floor, holds his eye, and looks after Gallant with a mixture of irritation, awe, and horniness. We fade to black wondering if we're going to get a bisexual love triangle with Pratt, Chen, and Gallant.
Pratt ices his eye and mutters that at least he knows how to take a punch. "So that's what you were doing on the floor," sasses Carter. "You should see the other guy." They peer through a window, where Gallant is sitting, staring at the floor, engaging in a right royal pout. Pratt wants to talk to him, but Carter tells him to wait. For once, Pratt listens.
Weaver orders Susan to get the nursing schedules together for Abby to peruse. "I was a hall monitor for a day in fifth grade, and they fired me for selling passes to the other kids," Abby whines, trying to back out of the promotion. Weaver won't hear it. Can you force someone into a promotion? Weaver basically tells Abby that she needs to suck it up, because she's nurse manager, and there's no way around it because the Iron Cane of Justice isn't afraid to lay down the smack on her whiny ass. Weaver throws out that there's a raise; Abby finally picks up on this and says, "How much?" Weaver thinks. "I'll get back to you," she says.
Susan interrupts and points out that Romano has sent Weaver a gift. This gift is stunning. It's a phallic, prickly cactus. Well played, old man. Weaver eyes it with disgust, reads the card reluctantly, and throws it away. Susan snorts. "What'd it say?" Abby whispers. "'Your fifteen minutes are up,'" Susan repeats. Everyone chortles.
Gallant stares at Chem's dead body, lying pasty and still on the gurney in Trauma Green. Carter enters quietly. "Hey," he says gently. "Pratt wants you to hit him on the other side of his face [to] kind of even it out." Gallant doesn't crack a smile. "Kayson knows what happened here today," Carter promises. Gallant won't be consoled. "He was right. I backed down," Gallant says ruefully. Carter insists that's not the way he saw things. "I always back down," laments Gallant. "We're supposed to be saving people's lives, and sometimes it seems like we end up fighting with each other. I should've fought for her." Carter offers that he could've tried harder with Kayson, but he didn't; he's trying to shoulder the grief burden. Gallant says no -- Chem was his patient, his responsibility, and his battle to win. "She'd be alive now if I wasn't so scared about being wrong," Gallant says. "Everybody get scared," Carter says. "Not Pratt," Gallant refutes. Oh, lordy. Let's not have Gallant start seeing Pratt's good side, because frankly, that's assier than a donkey with elephantitis of the buttocks. Carter laughs emptily that of course Pratt gets scared -- he just covers it by acting cocky. "Everybody that comes in here does [get scared], but you learn to work through it," Carter assures him. "When does that happen?" Gallant whispers. "As soon as you've killed a patient," Carter replies quietly. They nod. The scene is devoid of music. "Well, I just did," Gallant says, as if he's only now saying it out loud for the first time. Carter shakes his head. "No, you didn't," he repeats. "Maybe you won't have to." Gallant stares at Chem, who remains very dead. Carter leaves his protégé to deal with the deadness.
Abby bumps into Luka, who exposits that Marlene's ultrasound showed bilateral renal scarring. She needs surgery. Abby can't believe no one caught this before, with all those UTIs that had her seeing other doctors. "Somebody should have," Luka grieves. "The moral of the story is..." Abby prompts him. "Never sleep with the patient's mother," Luka suggests. "At least not 'til the labs are back," Abby whispers conspiratorially. Luka has the grace to look really embarrassed. Hey, honey, don't worry -- you got laid twice in one show. That makes you a genius, by these people's standards. Elizabeth was married and pregnant, and yet based on her moods, I'm not sure she's had sex in about three years. "You know, a little girl's sick," Abby muses. "to that, nothing much matters." As she walks away, Luka looks grateful for her discretion, but tortured by the Tragedy of Ho Mommy.
Abby catches sight of Carter leaving. He meets her eye, then turns on his heel and scurries away. She fobs off her work onto Chuny so that she can give chase.
It's raining outside. Carter plows through it in order to put distance between himself and Abby. "Hey," she calls out to him, reluctant so far to leave the cover of the hospital. She busts Carter on leaving early; he says he got Chen to agree to cover the rest of his shift. They stare at each other for a second, until Carter averts his eyes. "I'll call you later," he lies. This galvanizes Abby, who blurts that she can't figure out why they aren't talking about this. Abby, he's being a child. He's being that thirteen-year-old boy who lost his virginity to a maid and never talked about it again. Carter would rather wait until neither of them is working before they hash it out. "I never lied to you," she swears. "I guess I must've talked myself into something," Carter retorts. "Let's figure this out," she begs. She's following him in the rain now, toward the El station. "I agreed not to rescue you, or help you, or fix you, so I guess I'll just shut up and wait for the car wreck," he grunts. Oh, that's so judgmental. You know, Abby's being ridiculous about dealing with the alcoholism as if drinking is something she can dabble in occasionally, but is it any wonder that she does it? I mean, Carter's constantly watching her, waiting for her to fall off the wagon because he fully expects her to do it. So of course she's going to self-sabotage. Her boyfriend has no faith in her, so she might as well live up to his expectations.
So, naturally, Abby doesn't appreciate this last remark. "What is that supposed to mean?" she asks, following him into the station. "We both know where this is going," he says bitterly. Where? Oh, please take it there. Abby gets stuck in the turnstile, but keeps blazing until she makes it through. "I'm hardly drinking at all," she insists. "Good night," Carter sneers, leaving. She won't relent, giving him a laundry list of what she's ingested in the past two or three weeks. "You're keeping close track," Carter sniffs. "It's under control!" she shouts. Except it isn't, it never is, which is why Abby's schtick is getting way annoying. This sucks, though, because Carter looks like a complete prick and Abby looks reasonable, which is dangerous because you almost believe her that it's okay for her to drink when she's an alcoholic. And it so isn't okay. Carter doesn't understand why she's dabbling at all. "I was drinking last year, you know that," she says. "Now it's not about being scared and alone." Too bad, because that was a better excuse. Carter charges up the stairs, with Abby at full tilt behind him. "It's still drinking," he judges. "Look, wait," Abby begs. Carter turns on the steps and glares expectantly at her. "I used to drink because I was miserable, I was in a lousy marriage, a life I didn't want," Abby says, impassioned. "Now I'm happy, with you, things are good, and being able to have a drink with my friends makes me feel like I'm past the bad part." Carter throws up his hands and keeps going upstairs. "You know, maybe I just have a little bit more faith in me than you do," she accuses. Carter doesn't get how she reaches that conclusion. Wake up, Johnny. Get the maid to de-wax your ears and listen to yourself.
The El train arrives. "I'm a pro at walking away," Abby says. "I've done it one million times and I'm asking you, please, don't do this. Stay here and talk to me. Please! Please." Cut to the train pulling away. When it's gone, we see Abby standing alone at the platform, leaning against a pole. She's still for a second, then kicks her heels petulantly against the platform. Depressed and defeated, she shuffles away.
Back inside the hospital, Luka tells Ho Mommy that a transplant is only a last resort for Marlene. "I should call my husband," Ho Mommy weeps. Luka offers her a phone, then lingers behind her, biting his lip. It tastes like tragedy. Ho Mommy turns and flashes him a snooty stare. "I'm sorry, could I have some privacy, please?" she says coldly.
Abby, back inside with her hair slowly drying, is with Marlene, who's cracking gallows-humor jokes about her last meal. The answer is pizza. Marlene clearly needs to get out more and sample the edible wares of the world. Abby dumbs down an explanation of the kidney trouble she's having and how they'll fix it. "How'd I get like this?" Marlene wonders. Abby shrugs that it's probably a DNA thing, some kind of genetic cocktail that went sour. "Maybe that's why," Marlene reasons. "They had a fight one night and my Dad left. He never told me why. They just gave up." Abby nods. Marlene figures her parents erred. "Maybe the reason I'm sick is so I can bring them back together," she says, a light of hope flickering in her eyes. Abby doesn't have the heart to tell her that tragedy isn't crazy glue -- it won't permanently mend a broken home. But Marlene's off to the races already, betting that her disease could fix everything. Is she on drugs? Should they be giving her morphine yet? I'm all for dealing with death in a positive light, but oh man, don't be so freakin' well-adjusted, and don't use this to make your parents screw. Not nice. Abby smiles at her anyway, because Abby probably isn't listening.
Susan carries the Phallic Cactus of Sass into the doctors' lounge, where Weaver is preparing to leave. "Glad to see Romano hasn't lost his sense of humor," she offers. Weaver curtly orders her to keep tabs on Abby's performance as nurse manager, rambles about scheduling stuff, and generally bores everyone. Susan gently asks if Kerry is okay. "Look, I made a small mistake on a TV program," Weaver snaps. "I wish everyone would get over it." Um, you made two people share a needle. Small mistake? Whatever. Just because Romano's gone and all the other bigwigs are recurring, Weaver can get away with a blunder like that? Right. Susan clarifies what she really meant: the syringe incident in the bathroom. Weaver's all, "What? No," just the picture of innocence, which is really funny to me considering how obviously busted she was at the time. "I know what I saw," Susan insists. Weaver gulps nervously. "I'm taking hormones," she blurts. "Good night." She leaves stiffly; Susan stares after her, stunned.
At Reception, Pratt cracks that Weaver should watch out for the paparazzi. She glares at him, then grabs Gallant and asks if it's true that he had an altercation in which he punched another doctor. "Dr. Pratt," Gallant clarifies. Weaver pauses. "Oh," she says. "Well, in that case, I'll overlook it." Best line of the episode. You're my bitch, Kerry! Love you. Chen laughs out loud.
Pratt follows Gallant outside and finally chokes out an apology for changing Felix's chart. "You should've stayed out of it," Gallant notes. "You were going from the gut, which I respect," Pratt allows. "But for once, I was the one thinking clearly." Gallant digests this, and nods his grudging agreement. Pratt promises to check on Felix before he leaves. "How's your face?" Gallant asks with a small smile. "Don't sweat it," Pratt smiles confidently. "I know it wasn't me you were punching. You were really punching Kayson." Gallant surveys him. "Uh, actually, no," he corrects. "It was you." Pratt is startled, but it dissolves into a grin. "time, I hit back," he says. "Tell Leon I said hi," Gallant fires back before leaving. Pratt watches him go, admiring the way Gallant's ass wiggles. Then, he turns to the fish tank. "All right, Daddy's back, and it's chow time," he chortles, feeding the critters. Oh boy! Pratt's a fish killer! What a relevant and interesting storyline that tells me profound things about a character while also helping me apply its lessons to my own life. This is way better than The Bible. Is Pratt the Angel of Death? Can we pretend Season Eight never happened?
Abby skulks home, fishing for her keys. It's a new apartment, this time with a little wrought-iron gate outside the steps. Carter rounds the corner looking haggard and sad. "You should have your keys already out," he says. "Never know who might be lurking." Looking ashamed of himself, he comes inside the gate. "The drinking is the drinking. You know where I stand on that," he begins. Abby stares at him silently; he gulps and proceeds. "It's just...how far are we going to go if we're going to keep hiding from each other?" Abby swallows hard and slowly descends the steps. "I won't hide anymore," she whispers. Carter inches toward her as an El train passes by. Again with the sex/orgasm symbolism. Nice. And also trite. Carter apologizes for bolting at the El station. "It just seemed kind of complicated and I wanted a little time to figure out where we were," he explains. She comes down another step to be on his eye level. "Here we are," she says. Carter looks happy for a second, Abby matches his tentative smile, and nods her head in the direction of her front door. We fade to black well aware that, off-camera, this episode's ending exactly the way it began for Luka.