Previously on ER: Sandy Lopez had a baby; her mom seemed lightly disapproving of Kerry's hours. Neela -- on the same day Susan declared she wouldn't make a good ER doc and Carter urged her to be more assertive -- accidentally pushed Demerol that conflicted with a patient's anti-depressants, which killed him. Gallant took the blame.
We fade up on a gurgling baby, unintelligibly goo-gooing his way through the scene and yet still acting rings around Mischa Barton. Sandy comes out of the bathroom in a bra, holding a breast pump and announcing that she squeezed out nine ounces. Out of those Milk Duds? Right. Sandy slinks up behind Kerry, wraps her arm around Kerry's waist, and purrs, "Can't say I don't produce." Weaver thinks fondly back to the night before and is inclined to agree. The doorbell rings; it's Sandy's mother. "Better put on your shirt -- she already thinks we're pervs," Kerry half-jokes. She picks up baby Henry and coos her way to the front door. "Sorry," Florina says, entering. "My battery was dead." She reaches for Henry, but Weaver leans back and cautions, "Hands, hands...." I have no problem with this -- sure, Florina's a mother herself, but when you're dealing with someone else's kid, you abide by their rules, and there's certainly nothing wrong with asking for a protective hygenic measure. Florina seems a bit put-out, though, because she's The Evil Mother-In-Law. Florina babbles about her car, and there's some banter with Sandy about her angelic brother, but we don't really care because we never see Sandy, and if the show's not invested in her the why should we be? Kerry hands over Henry with some instructions, and Florina turns the kid toward Sandy and coos, "Say goodbye to Mama." Sandy kisses Henry. "And Mommy, too," Sandy prods Florina. Florina turns toward Kerry somewhat less enthusiastically and parrots, "Say goodbye," notably omitting the nickname. Sandy shoots Kerry a knowing look of regret, and they both grab their stuff to leave. Henry wails. He knows his mother's not on contract. "It's all right, we'll be back," Sandy calls out tenderly. Let's see: Sporadic appearances plus only one other episode this season, divided by the ER jinx and multiplied by the number of typewriter monkeys...yep, that equals death.
Outside, Kerry and Sandy get the obligatory banter and playful spanking moment crafted to say, "We're in love! And you like us, you really like us!" They gab about the strength of the crying Henry's lungs, which Sandy flirtatiously takes to mean that Kerry is implying she's a wailer. I don't know if that's true, but the neighbors might.
Cut to Alex reading the newspaper. Is it the Obituary page? Sam is trying to make him lunch so that he can get to school. "Hey, what are sodomy laws?" Alex asks. Luckily for Sam, there's a knock at the door, so Alex jumps up to answer it. I do hope it's Sandy's mother, showing up in every scene to pass her special form of silent judgment. But it's actually Luka. "What are you doing here?" Alex celebrates. "Got off work early, and thought I'd stop by," he smiles. Sam brightens and greets him warmly, crossing the room to give him a kiss. "Guess he misses us or something," Alex says, not without pleasure. Sam says she has to be at work in forty minutes, and hustles an already-late Alex out the door for school. "What are sodomy laws?" he asks Luka quickly. "Out!" Sam says, exasperated, dispatching him to school so that he can ask the teacher that question and then get sent to the principal's office while they frantically try to call Sam to ask her why she couldn't introduce him to the concept of laws and legality by explaining things like stealing. Or arson. Sam takes one look at Luka, sprawled on her couch, and mischievously locks the door. "You know, I have a couple minutes before I have to leave," she intones. "Really?" Luka says, a giant, stupid grin on his face. Sam creeps over to him and lets her fingers dance across his chest, as he half-heartedly says he's pretty tired. Oh, please. If you want to sleep that badly, you don't go to your girlfriend's house after a night shift. It's like going up the Eiffel Tower and then frowning that you don't really think you're comfortable with heights. "Doesn't have to be anything fancy..." Sam begins, fiddling with his pants. I've waited a good long time for someone to fiddle with Luka's pants, and even though I know that in this post-Super Bowl era of television we're not going to see anything, I still found myself hoping for a wardrobe malfunction. "I'm tired," Luka says, still not really sounding committed to the idea of sleep, and devouring her with his eyes. "How tired?" she asks, cocking her eyebrow casually and leaning forward over his body. "Not that tired," he beams, wrapping his right arm around her head and fondling her hair as he draws her in for a slow kiss.
At work, Abby asks Neela if she's checked her scores on their exams. "Can't bring myself to look," Neela replies. "With any luck, I failed." I don't think Neela could fail a test unless she actually neglected to answer the questions, and even then I think she'd probably find a way to scrape through accidentally with a D-plus. Abby's both amused and perplexed by this. "I'm serious. Part of me is actually afraid I'll be given a license to practice medicine," Neela snarks. Abby notes that such a result is more or less the point of studying to become a doctor -- well, that and the excuse to wear orthopedic shoes. Neela replies that it's only the point if you're good at being a doctor. "Between annoying Attendings, butting heads with nurses, and of course being responsible for the death of a patient because I had to be aggressive..." Neela rants. She's lousy at keeping things under her hat. Way to endanger the cover story, Neela -- at this point, it shouldn't be about her anymore, but about making sure no one gets wind of Gallant's misguided felony. A passing Chen sing-songs that you're not a good doctor until you've killed someone. Chen must be a really, really, really top-notch physician, then. Neela ends up standing to Gallant, who asks how she's doing. "Fine," Neela snaps. "Don't have much of a poker face, do I?" Oooh, she's chilly. She's becoming a chip off Chen's ice block.
A guy from Risk Management wheels Susan to the front desk. "My feet are swollen, my back is killing me, and apparently, my waddle is too slow for some people," Susan crabs. But if her feet are swollen and her back hurts, shouldn't she be grateful for the ride? Don't be a bitch, Susan. She's making Chen look like a sunny spring day in a vineyard. Susan announces that they're doing their investigation into Luis's death, so the lawyer from Risk Management -- played by Armin Shimerman, a.k.a. Principal Snyder on Buffy -- will be interviewing all involved parties. They're starting with Neela and working their way up the ladder. Neela blanches, because she really does have the world's worst poker face, and clearly needs to come over time we play so that I can bilk her of all her pennies. "What? The guy's medical records fell through the cracks. It's not like anyone did anything wrong," Susan assures Neela. Really, Susan? Really? We smash to the credits off Neela, which makes five act breaks in a row that end on her, four of which involve her making an inscrutable face. Creative.
Pratt tails Gallant through the ER, trying to convince him to be set up with a girl Pratt knows -- whom he has therefore either already bedded, or who is so markedly unattractive that Pratt's generously trying to pawn her off on someone else, because although he's never met a book he didn't like, there are a few covers he wouldn't touch with a five-inch pole. Gallant graciously declines his offer. "You're too busy playing soldier! You need to get a life!" Pratt insists. Elizabeth shows up and compliments Gallant on some excellent work he did, and casually tells him that he should consider becoming a surgeon. "I think I'm committed," he smiles. "If you change your mind..." Elizabeth says, leaving. up is a snippy Chen, who orders Pratt to present to her in Susan's absence. Pratt thinks she's crabby. I don't know how he differentiated between "Regular Chen" and "Crabby Chen," with the possible exception that Crabby Chen has a really severe topknot hairdo going on that makes her face look like a cube. (Of ice.) He asks how she is, and Chen insists she'd fine. "How's your dad doing?" he asks. "He's much better, thanks," Chen lies.
With Sam there, Pratt presents to Chen a homeless seventy-year-old who was found in a makeshift tent in Lincoln Park. He's diabetic and was, by body temperature analysis, apparently only outside overnight. Pratt smugly insists he's a homeless guy, but Chen notices the man's manicured nails and tells them to check the missing persons reports for any matches. The man sits up suddenly and spontaneously pees on Chen's leg. Oh, the metastatement.
Elizabeth reams Kerry for the complete disarray up in the surgery department -- bad scheduling, no leadership, and no representative at the bargaining table who could prevent the cutbacks in their salaries. Weaver blithely informs her that their new surgery department head will assess the situation. "You've selected a chairman?" Elizabeth gapes. "Chairwoman," Weaver says. "Unless you prefer to be gender non-specific." This completely flusters Elizabeth, who sputters that if Kerry was going to assign her a promotion of that magnitude, she could've at least asked. As bizarre as this is -- Kerry says it's been in motion for two or three months -- I think it's quite in-character for Kerry to assume that any right-minded person would hungrily agree to ascend to the throne. And, you know, Elizabeth's a Brit. They're all about monarchy. Weaver escapes in the elevator, leaving a shocked Elizabeth to stare agape at the closed door.
Abby's patient is a guy named Mr. Halpern with a hurt back. Gallant comes in to supervise. The guy's kind of cagey about his slip-and-fall accident of yore, claiming that it flares up once in a while and that Vicodin is the only answer because he's allergic to Tylenol and ibuprofen. "I don't like the [Vicodin], but what are you gonna do, you know?" he says, trying to sound blithe. As they leave Halpern alone, Gallant quite rightly orders a tox screen to make sure he's not just a drug-seeker. Then he asks Abby if she thinks she'll match at County. "I don't know," she admits. Someone should tell her to be more decisive. That always works.
Neela is in a quiet boardroom with Snyder and Susan. "You let a desk clerk get in the way of you [sic] getting a medical history?" Susan asks. She's turning awfully judgmental considering that a second ago she was pooh-poohing the notion that anyone did anything wrong. "I guess I did," Neela says. Snyder leads her through the official cover story and she gives quick affirmative answers to his statements. "Anything else?" Susan asks. "No, I'm good," Snyder says. Neela looks miserable, as if that was at all hard for her, when in reality Snyder led her down the primrose path and all she had to do was nod her head and not tread on the flower beds. As Neela is excused, Susan opens her big fat pregnant mouth and suggests that she apply for a part-time research job with a friend of hers who needs a student. "Research?" Neela says, sucking a little wind. Susan senses she's poured salt in a wound, but scribbles down the information and mutters, "Just check it out."
Chen, pissed that she's the only Attending on duty now that Susan's in meetings all day, ratchets up her panty-wad size meter to the "Frank" setting and waddles around with her righteous wedgie fully intact and chafing. Sam calls her over to The Homeless Urinator, who's waking up and wants water. That's how they do it, those Urinators. They make you give them fluids and then they use it against you. Jerry interrupts to tell Sam that Luka called and left a cryptic message: "time he's going to have a triple latte first. Does that make sense?" Sam blushes privately and murmurs, "Yes." Oddly, there's been a lot of discussion about whether the writers wussified Luka because he now drinks triple lattes. I'm going to advance the radical theory that this might not be a serious comment on what he drinks, but rather an inside joke with Sam intended to convey that if he'd known the sex would be that good, he'd have loaded up his tired ass with some serious caffeine before showing up at her door. Just my interpretation, totally colored by the fact that I don't think Luka's becoming a wimp, nor that Sam was borne of Satan's anal canal.
Chen overhears this exchange and tells Sam that she thinks Luka's a great guy, but she really wishes that he hadn't emasculated himself by drinking some girly latte that made his genitals shrivel up and fall off. "Wait, you didn't..." Sam begins. "Sleep with him?" Chen interrupts. "Nah. I went in a completely different direction." Oh, like it was her choice. But, here, she gives Pratt a little wave. No kidding that's a different direction. Luka's the stairway to Heaven and Pratt's the highway to Hell. I admit I found this really funny, and full credit goes to Ming-Na for her amusing sing-song delivery.
The Urinator claims that his name is Bob Jones, as generic a pseudonym as one can create on short notice and an empty bladder. He's claiming he's homeless, but Chen confronts him with the fact that his diabetes was clearly totally under control until recently, so there must be more to the story. However, we don't hear about it, because Bob Jones disappears for the rest of the episode, because the producers didn't think it was appropriate to have someone peeing through all the grief.
Chen begins prescribing a course of action, and then throws down the chart and gives a disgruntled sigh. "Wait, why am I doing this? This is Pratt's patient," she snarls, stalking over to the phone Pratt is using. He hangs up in a timely fashion. "What are you doing?" she demands to know. "Talking to your father's nurse," he answers. "He tried to fry a steak while she was stripping his bed. Set off the smoke alarms and scared himself, but he's okay now." Pratt courteously offers Chen some advice, somehow stopping short of encouraging the ungrateful nuthag to eat her bitchy words like a pile of fried steaks.
Sam announces that a roof collapsed in a fire, and that two critical and six injured patients are en route. Chen fires up all her cylinders, bravely unafraid that the heat will cause her heart of snow to melt. "Get Lewis out of that damn meeting!" she roars.
Abby's in with Susan and Snyder. She credits Neela with noticing Luis's adverse reaction to morphine, and with trying to come up with an alternative. But she admits that Neela didn't tell her exactly what the alternative was, and that she didn't hear Gallant give the order for Demerol. "But to be fair, I had stepped out briefly," Abby says. Then: "What are you looking for, exactly?" Susan insists they only want the truth. "Meaning you think there's some sort of cover-up?" Abby asks curiously. Okay, this annoyed me. Because Abby knows full well there was a cover-up. She was there when Gallant ordered morphine and ran out of the room, and she knows that Neela wasn't around Gallant for him to have changed the order. She's aware Neela did it autonomously -- she has to be. So why is she introducing the idea of a cover-up? Don't put words or ideas in their heads, especially if you know or at least suspect that they're the right ideas. I also don't buy that Abby would be this careless, so this whole scene just generally pissed me off. Jerry mercifully ends it to demand their presence with the critical patients.
Simon Mason is unloaded from an ambulance. He's unconscious and is severely burned all over his face, neck, and chest. Pratt and Chen take him, assigning Sam and Gallant to the . Neela joins them. How's that for hanging back on traumas, Chen? Right, that's what I thought. "How'd your meeting go?" Gallant asks. "Fine," Neela says harshly. Oh, Neela, don't make me come over there -- don't kick the puppy. Their patient is a conscious firefighter named Andy who's suffering from severe smoke inhalation and a dislocated knee. Inside, Susan puts Abby with Andy and tells Gallant to take the third one with her; just then, the third patient's wheeled in, and Susan gasps. "Sandy," she realizes. Sandy murmurs, "Hey, Doc." We smash to black as the Jinx Fairy grabs Lisa Vidal's contract and fires up the paper shredder.
So, as one might assume, Sandy's not doing so well. As if the neck brace weren't enough to indicate this, she's also been given some lovingly applied fake soot over her nose-tip and nostrils. Neela and Gallant squabble a little about Sandy's needing a chest tube, with the former being very, very prickly. "One of you do it instead of talking about it," Sam says curtly. "Sandy, how you doing?" Susan says. "Been better," Sandy croaks. Then she sees Neela. "I remember you," she says warmly. "How's the baby?" Neela asks. He'd be a lot better if you shut your indecisive cakehole and put in her chest tube. They want to stick a breathing tube down Sandy's throat, but she insists on waiting until she's spoken to Kerry. "I paged her," Sam promises. Sandy looks desperate. Chuny pops in from Trauma Green to ask for the aid of a doctor. Gallant skips off, and Neela takes over the needlework. "Dazzle me," says Susan. She sounds bored. Maybe she'd be more interested if they killed off one of her nearest and dearest. Or if Neela was wielding a BeDazzler. Oh, how great would it be she BeDazzled Sandy's chest tube? How has no one thought of this?
In Trauma Green, Simon Mason is a charred mess of a man, with disgusting blistered burns all over his body that look remarkably like the makeup department just put some body latex in the microwave for ten minutes on "Pustule" and crossed their fingers. I'm not completely sure what happens , because when all the medical mumbo-jumbo starts up, my eyes glaze and I have to go to my happy place by thinking about Cadbury's Crème Eggs and pants. I think they decide they need to reintubate, and Pratt's about to do it until Gallant discovers a tracheal shift. He stabs the guy's chest with a needle, and that apparently does the trick. "Nice catch, Gallant," Chen lauds.
Malik, in Trauma Other with Abby and Andy, yells that they need help. Pratt announces that he's too busy tying off a bleeder, but Chen frostily suggests that Gallant can take over while Pratt helps Abby. Pratt's irritated by this. Chen doesn't care. So Pratt goes into Trauma Other to help Abby pop Andy's knee back in; Andy babbles and babbles that he'd challenged the old-timers to a race up to the roof, and Sandy and Simon won and were rewarded by having everything collapse upon them. The moral of the story is that if you are older than twenty-five and you are running, you're going to die. This doesn't bode well for my 10K race in two weeks. Anyway, in a truly disgusting shot, Pratt yanks the knee back into place with a bone-crunching noise and a nice long close-up of the leg wiggling back into unity with the kneecap. I would vomit, had I not just been frozen solid by the twin Medusas of explicit joint relocation and the Foley artist's bone-on-bone symphony.
Weaver bolts downstairs and bumps into Sam. "Trauma [Yellow]," Sam directs her. "How bad?" Weaver asks. "She's conscious," Sam offers carefully. Very diplomatic. And also transparent. It's like asking, "Do I look fat in this?" and hearing in response, "Your hair looks great."
Kerry sprints into Trauma Yellow to Sandy's side, cradling her lover's face. "Hey, baby," Sandy moans. "What did you go and do?" Kerry whispers lovingly. Susan briefly gives Weaver the bullet and concludes, "She needs the OR." I think her liver's torn and she's got fluid in both pericolic gutters. We had that at our house once, but my mother made my father get up on a ladder and clean them out. "Good thing I pumped," Sandy jokes weakly. Sandy opens her mouth to try to tell Kerry something -- presumably that Sandy loves her -- but her pericolonic guttersnipes start splashing around in the waste matter and make Sandy pass out before she can say a thing. "Sandy, you need to stay awake, sweetie," Kerry says desperately, tapping Sandy on the cheeks -- and then, in the desperate hope of resuscitating her conked-out girlfriend, graduating awfully close to "open-handed bitch-slap." Susan wants to intubate, but she can't until Kerry is done smacking that ass up, which is apparently taking a while. At this point she'd better hope Sandy doesn't wake up, because there will be a reckoning when she spies the palm-shaped bruise on her cheek. Then Kerry decides she wants to intubate, and Susan pleads with her to back away. "Please," Kerry says plaintively, tears brimming in her eyes. "She's my wife." Everyone steps back and nods, because when a lesbian says this, the standard is apparently different.
Abby casts Andy's knee, telling him that he probably tore up a lot of knee ligaments. Andy's afraid he won't be able to fight fires any more, a go-getter attitude I like to refer to as "insane." I prefer the kind of one-sided, scar-free fights that end in my triumph the obvious defeat of my enemy -- usually the refrigerator door, or the bottle of Diet Coke, or the Easter Bunny. Andy whimpers that firefighting is like his calling. "What happens when you can't answer it?" he whimpers. That crashing sound you heard is an anvil dropping onto Abby's locker in the lounge; on it, an inscription: "Get an answering machine, then, moron. Also, Abby is hosed."
Pratt gets yanked away by Gallant and Chen, whose scorched patient is crashing further and further toward merciful expiration. They've lost a pulse. Once Pratt is there, Chen calls for a thoracotomy tray for Dr. Gallant; when Pratt objects, she snits, "Why not? He's earned it." Then why bellow for Pratt, if for no other reason than to screw with his mind? Although I'd rather she screwed with that than anything else belonging to Pratt, and come to think of it, I applaud her deviousness. As Gallant spreads the ribs, Pratt says something snitty about being careful with the phrenic nerve -- which is essential to the diaphragm and normal breathing. "You do remember the phrenic nerve?" Pratt says haughtily. Gallant and Chen glare at him, Chen shooting especial ocular icicles in his direction.
Weaver struggles to intubate Sandy. "Come on, honey," she mutters. Sandy's all, "Oh, sure, sorry if my unconsciousness is making this inconvenient for you -- a little to the left, would that help?" At the last second, as with everything, Weaver succeeds, and they bag Sandy. "You okay, Dr. Weaver?" Neela asks softly. Weaver kisses Sandy's forehead disconsolately.
Andy suddenly stops breathing and grabs frantically at Abby. She yells for Pratt, but he's busy clubbing Gallant's confidence with the truncheon of his caustic tongue. Chen and Pratt shout instructions at Abby as they work on Simon; Abby can't bag him, can't get a pulse ox, and ultimately can't even see down his throat to tube him because his larynx is swollen shut. Chen and Pratt can't really give Andy their full attention, so Abby throws up her hands and orders Malik to assist as she crikes the guy. "What?" he says. "You heard me," she replies steadily.
Simon's in v-tach. "Abby, how're you doing?" Chen calls out. Abby says she's fine; we cut to a truly troubling shot of her making the incision in the neck, which is nearly as disturbing to me as the other sorts of shenanigans in which this show has dabbled. "Have you done this before?" Malik asks. "Nope," Abby replies. She makes a neat little hole in the larynx and pops in a breathing tube. Then she wanders into Trauma Green and rips off her gloves with a nonchalant snap: "Never mind. I criked him." Pratt's amazed that she did it alone. "Now that's a med student," says Chen. Except that she acted without authority or approval, didn't tell anyone what she was doing, and could've seriously erred in the procedure. The only difference between Abby and Neela is that Abby had better luck. And more benevolent writers. And, because it's always worth mentioning, shut UP, Chen. Simon mistakes my comment as being directed toward him, and his entire body shuts up, shuts down, and shuts the door to the afterlife behind him. Pratt calls the time of death. "Should we let those guys know?" Gallant asks, gesturing toward the hall, where she knows a cluster of firefighters are awaiting word about their colleagues. "After we close the chest," Chen says sadly.
Elizabeth is consulting Sandy's chart and, I think, x-rays. She's got a fractured liver, pelvis, ribs, and humerus. "God, what's not broken?" Elizabeth sighs. Her spirit, Elizabeth! ...No, wait, I think that's gone, too. She begins to ask Weaver a question, until Susan nudges her and whispers that Sandy is the patient. Elizabeth is horrified. "Who's operating?" Weaver asks, trying not to take her eyes off Sandy's face. "Anspaugh, hopefully, and Dean," Elizabeth answers. Weaver is pleased with that. Gently, Elizabeth offers to let Kerry observe if she wants to stay with Sandy, and Weaver brokenly agrees. "I'll say a prayer for you, Dr. Weaver," Neela says caringly. "Kerry, she'll pull through -- she's a fighter," Susan says, trying to sound optimistic. Weaver whispers loving things into Sandy's ear, promising not to go anywhere; Sandy's colleagues rally around the gurney as it heads for the elevator. "She's lacerated her liver," Elizabeth tells them. "We need to repair that right away." So what do they do? Stop dead in the hallway so that Sandy's arriving family can muscle up to the gurney and shout things at her unconscious face. Florina wails in Spanish, "Can you hear me?" Sam points out that Sandy is not awake. Kerry explains that she will be with Sandy the entire time, and that the family will be shown to the waiting room. No one objects to this, which seems to me is tacit acknowledgement that Kerry has the right to be there making decisions about Sandy's treatment. Of course, the sight of some paperwork would be nice. If you're going to get into a story about gay rights, you should really start at square one: Does Kerry have legal ground on which to stand here, as Sandy's life partner? Can she make the kind of calls she's about to make on Sandy's behalf? Have they signed legal documents to this effect? Florina begs them to take care of Sandy; as they load the gurney onto the elevator, Kerry turns around and stares emptily at a sobbing woman who is clearly Simon's grieving wife, weeping on the shoulder of a fireman. The doors close as we fade to black, wondering if the family waiting room contains any helpful literature on the rules of the jinx, and how to cope when it infects your life like the predictable little fungus it is.
It's Gallant's turn in front of the firing squad, which is hopefully not a statement that will be fulfilled in a literal sense once he's in Iraq. But I'm getting ahead of myself. He oversimplifies that they had a recent discharge summary indicating an adverse reaction to morphine, so he ordered Demerol to alleviate the patient's pain. "End of story," he nods. "Not exactly," Susan drawls. Snyder notes that the chart was incomplete -- no Attending signed off on anything. Gallant suggests that Carter might not have had time to do it because he was heading off to Africa that night and had to buy a lot of Ho-Hos and lubricant. "So he was a little distracted that night? Is that what you're saying?" Snyder presses. "Perhaps he needed some time to get his facts straight?" Gallant tiredly insists that Carter was just busy and had a lot of patients.
Snyder changes tacks slightly and asks if Carter is typically very available to everyone. Well, let's see -- how many people at the hospital has he been "available" to, exactly? Five? Six? Does Luka count? "Of course he is," Gallant insists, unsure as to why Snyder is attacking them. Snyder assures Gallant that he's simply preparing him for whatever tough questions he'd face in a deposition. Gallant straps on his knee pads and proceeds to fluff Carter generously, insisting he's a great teacher and "the finest physician [Gallant's] ever worked with," and he obviously means "fine" in terms of quality and not looks, because no one who's been through as many tragedies of body hair as Carter has can possibly be considered "fine" in the "Daaaaaam, girl!" sense. Susan's face darkens. "So why didn't you present to him?" she asks quietly. "He was probably only thirty feet away the whole time." Gallant has nothing to say to this. I understand that Gallant wasn't there, and that he is lying about what transpired and didn't think of this little wrinkle, but it's worth noting for posterity that Neela did in fact attempt to get Carter's attention; his patient was crashing, so he wasn't able to focus on what she was saying. That doesn't make Carter look great, though, and since no one but apparently Snyder is out to push blame around in Carter's direction, no one is mentioning it. The whole thing's thorny, and I kind of wish Carter had taken more of this upon himself. Although who knows what he'll do when he gets back from Africa? By then it'll have gone the way of the Angel of Death, I suspect. Gallant finally says that he had wanted to handle the situation himself. "I thought I was better at this job than I guess I am," he says. Oh, muffin! I hate that the writers are having Gallant prostrate himself like this -- the look on his face, too, is shattering, because it pains him to say those words. In part because I think he believes them on some level. Susan asks if Gallant will assert his complete responsibility if he is deposed, and Gallant nods, but then breaks the news that he might not be able to participate in such a thing for a while. "The army called me up," he says. "I'm being deployed to Iraq." Knowing this was coming, watching last week's episode was gutting for me, because I think Sharif Atkins has been underrated and underused, and then last week there he was smacking home runs with every ball he was tossed. It makes you wonder why it took his departure for them to give him some decent scenes and a budding relationship -- Neela and Gallant could've been an interesting pairing, especially as her self-esteem took a tumble -- and yet it also makes it even sadder that no one could muster any quality stuff for Paul McCrane's exit.
Suddenly, we're back in the ER, and Abby is grabbing Gallant to tell him that Mr. Halpern's medical records show that he's got a history of seeking Vicodin. Then she stops to ask Sam if she's heard anything of Sandy; Sam shakes her head sadly. "Kind of puts it in perspective," Gallant says quietly. Abby continues that, despite his habit of snagging Vicodin, Mr. Halpern had nothing but caffeine and aspirin in his system. Suddenly, a man we learn is Sandy's brother, also a firefighter, asks them for an update on her condition. Abby promises to make a call.
Cut to the OR, where Elizabeth is working away, presumably because they couldn't wait for Anspaugh. Kerry is stationed up by Sandy's head. She's getting awfully special treatment here. I should think they'd be cautious about letting her watch Sandy's innards get hacked up, but then again, this hospital's workings always seem to confuse me to the point of crawling inside a wine bottle. Elizabeth engages her in conversation, asking how long they've been together. "Three years," Weaver says, shaky. "One of which included a pregnancy -- that gets you bonus time in the equation," Elizabeth says warmly. She means that strictly in the inexpensive and figurative sense, of course; Lisa Vidal isn't getting any kind of bonus, or time -- or bonus time -- at all. Kerry peeks over the curtain, apparently unable to contain her curiosity at whether Sandy's insides are as sweet and pretty as she always said they were when they were having their series of mawkish "You're cuter," "No, you're cuter" conversations. Given that Hallmark has yet to make the card that says, "You're beautiful inside and out, and even when you're inside-out," Kerry awards herself the victory. "We met here," she whispers. "The hospital?" Elizabeth asks. Then she smiles wanly. "Last place I expected to find anyone," she says. And yet she's found four people there. Lizzie is easily taken by surprise, I guess. Or easily taken. Also, Kerry's not strictly correct: she did make her first date with Sandy at the hospital, but technically they met at an ambulance crash site. Get your history straight, Kerry. Well, not straight -- how about, "correct."
Anyway, back to the scene, where Kerry and Elizabeth are sort of chatting as Elizabeth tries to execute the naughty little pericolonic guttersnipes who are smoking cigarettes, drinking forties, and splashing around in all of Sandy's pooling fluid. "I miss Mark, too," Kerry lies, but in a sensitive voice that makes one think she really means it. How like Mark to make this all about him. Hee. The hate never dies, people. It never dies. Elizabeth frowns and curtly asks Shirley, with a catch in her voice, to wipe her brow. It's worth noting that when Shirley does this, she does not in fact wipe in the forehead region, but rather near the tear ducts. It's funny -- my first reaction to this scene was to think it was sweet that Elizabeth was talking to Kerry to keep her calm, yet on subsequent viewings I was like, "Quit your yammering and stitch Sandy back together again!" Because I swear, if the memory of Mark Greene interferes in a patient's surgery and ends up getting her killed, my God, I'll...shake my fist a lot and then forget about it ten minutes later, actually. But it will be a vigorous ten minutes of threatening the air and the TV gods.
Abby asks Neela a complicated question, which Neela answers with authority, accuracy, and speed. Abby's face is like, "Okay, photographic memory," but I don't get why she'd expect any other outcome at this point. "And let me guess -- you passed [your Boards]," Abby hazards. Neela nods sullenly. "And you're not even the least bit excited about it?" Abby wonders. Neela confesses that part of her is, but only in the sense that it means she doesn't have to tell her parents that she flunked. "I suppose we should at least go celebrate passing tonight," she says. Aw, it's kind of cute that it never entered into her mind that Abby might not have passed. Abby flinches and coughs that she's not really in the mood to celebrate, and Neela kind of agrees.
Abby walks in on Susan checking her giant pregnant belly with a Giant Pregnant Belly Checking Machine. Actually, it's probably an ultrasound. That one wasn't too hard. Usually I can barely recognize a tongue depressor when it comes at me. Which is often, in my nightmares: "No! Get away from me, suspicious and unrecognizable tool of doom!" I think I need medication. Anyway, Susan is checking herself. "Please let these be Braxton-Hicks [contractions]," Susan frowns.
Anspaugh arrives and greets Kerry without emotion; he dives right into Sandy's messy abdomen. Something's going awry in there, and of course it flies right over my head due to the pairing of consonants and vowels in unlikely strings of syllables. I mean, I heard "retroherpatic," and thought, "On top of all this, she had herpes?" Oh well. "Come on, baby, don't scare me like this," Kerry coos, stroking Sandy's face. Yes, Sandy, knock it off -- I'm sure you're enjoying pulling this wicked little piece of japery, but it's time to admit you're a hypochondriac and let them shove everything back into your body. Even Ashton Kutcher would've bailed by now. "Should she be in here?" Anspaugh correctly, and crabbily, wonders. Elizabeth insists Weaver is fine, and then keeps right on operating with Anspaugh. Where is Dean? Why doesn't Elizabeth scrub out now? Whatever.
Suddenly, Sandy's pressure takes a nosedive because one of the guttersnipes staged a coup and built a fort on her heart. "Can you unclamp?" Kerry asks. "If we do that, she'll bleed out," Elizabeth says. "And if we don't, her heart stays empty, and she arrests," says Anspaugh. Kerry stares vacantly at Sandy, lost; Elizabeth jerks her back to consciousness by asking for permission to crack the chest. Since when do they ask permission? I thought there was paperwork that basically said, "If my loved one is starting to crap out in there, do whatever you have to do to ensure that said crapping-out is averted, and that we will live to cavort another day." Not that I wanted an entire scene about paperwork, necessarily, but some indication of Kerry's legal status with regard to decision-making would be welcome. "Do it," Kerry chokes. With hilarious relish, someone sparks up the bone saw; in my head, a hundred pairs of latex gloves snap against eager wrists.
Gallant confronts Halpern outside about the fact that he's asking for Vicodin despite the fact that he clearly doesn't actually use it. Apparently, the guy's hopped up on aspirin and caffeine because he gets bad headaches. "Nothing works but Imitrex," he moans. Imitrex: For when you're out of Diet Coke. Halpern makes a bitter reference to Uncle Sam's not covering his expenses; he and Gallant make small talk about both being in the military. "Don't count on the benefits," snorts Halpern. It turns out he got the headaches after doing a stint in the Gulf, but the VA insists that it doesn't count as a service-related problem and therefore isn't helping him cover the costs of his migraine medication. Gallant figures out that he's selling the Vicodin to pay for Imitrex. Yes, Imitrex: For your most expensive headaches. Halpern takes a long drag on his cigarette and asks Gallant what unit he's joining. "43rd Battalion, medical corps," Gallant replies. Halpern asks if he's busted; Gallant says he won't turn him in, but he won't fork over Vicodin, either. "Fair enough," Halpern shrugs. "Stay low. Watch your back."
Neela catches Gallant before he goes back inside and asks how his meeting with the Inquisition went. "I'm going to be fine," Gallant says with a small smile. Neela takes a deep breath and awkwardly apologizes for being a complete asshead all day. "It's not comfortable for me -- lying, and having someone else cover my mistakes," she says. Yeah, but honey, it's a lot worse for Gallant. I don't have a whole lot of patience for her argument here. Gallant takes a deep breath and confesses he's being deployed to Iraq. "I'm headed to Texas tomorrow morning," he says, explaining that he will finish his residency requirements there. Isn't he just an intern, though? Wouldn't he have another year for his residency? I'm a bit confused. Neela's gorgeous eyes fill with tears, and she shakes her head with increasing bitterness. "They called you up, just like that," she states, skeptically. Gallant nods. Neela lambastes him for being a coward and a liar. I can only assume she thinks that he either took the fall because he knew he was going, or he somehow finagled his activation to avoid the fallout from this situation. The former sounds a bit plausible; the latter, not at all like Gallant. By the way, he's totally hurt and sad at Neela's vitriol. "I never asked you to do this for me, but you did, and now you're leaving, and I'm supposed to live with the fact that I killed a man and you helped cover it up," she rants. What? Dial it down, Neela. This isn't about you anymore. Gallant tries to talk to her. "Go, Michael," she snorts derisively. "Go to Iraq. And tell yourself you've done something noble." She's dripping with scorn. It's sort of sad. I don't like admitting that I don't really know what the fuck they're talking about, but damned if I can figure out why Neela's being such a jerk. Yes, she's going along with a decision she didn't make, but the fact remains he did help her, his intentions were good, and he's going to fucking Iraq, and he likes her, and she'd better just be lashing out because she's going to miss him and not because she's unable to see past her own damn nose. "I had to protect you and Dr. Carter," Gallant said. "No, you didn't," she says with a rueful shake of her head. I guess she's not wrong -- Gallant didn't have to be, well, gallant. But he was a trapped by his moniker. A tragic victim of nomenclature. And now, dammit, his sad face is tugging at my heartstrings, and I did not give this show the authorization to touch me there.
Susan's contractions were a false alarm, but she's ordered to stay in bed until she goes into labor for real. Depressed, she whines, "This blows." Abby laughs mirthlessly. "This whole day blows," she says. Susan asks what else happened. "Nothing," Abby says. "Oh, I failed my Boards." Apparently she needed a one-eighty-two, and scored a one-sixty-seven. Susan's genuinely sad for Abby, although there is a bit of, "Oh, you didn't," in her tone. She does acknowledge that it's tricky to study when one is pulling double shifts. But (and this is nice) Abby shrugs all this off and admits that her fate -- retaking them until she passes -- is not nearly so dire as what happened to Sandy. Last season, Abby would've been staring at a tequila bottle, wondering why her life sucks the most.
Weaver stares at Sandy's head, quiet desperation and crushing reality mounting masterfully on Laura Innes's face. "I love you so much," she whimpers as the surgeons frantically try to fix everything that's not working. There's blood everywhere and they're shocking Sandy with internal paddles. Kerry strokes her wife adoringly as a tear snakes down her cheek, followed by its mate on the other side of her face. "You can stop," she says with difficulty when Sandy hits asystole. "She's gone." And with that, Weaver closes her eyes, and we fade to black completely awed that Laura Innes can take a semi-implausible situation (Kerry's being in the OR that whole time) and a largely unlikable character and turn it into something that's so easy to watch because she's so brilliant. All unrealities of that situation aside -- overlooking of paperwork and the like -- can't take away from the fact that she can break hearts with her talent. And there's still one act left.
In a darkened room, Weaver stares at Sandy's corpse, drained. Her vulnerability seems almost tangible. Elizabeth softly approaches. "Kerry..." she begins. "Can you take it out?" Kerry asks, referring to the breathing tube that's still poking out of Sandy's airway. Elizabeth begins to explain that, by law, they're not supposed to, but Kerry ducks her head and whispers, "Please." Maybe the "by law" thing isn't really that ironclad, and Kerry knows it; I don't know. Elizabeth swiftly snips the tube and pulls it out. "I'm so sorry," she says sincerely. Kerry is still gazing at Sandy. "We wanted more," she blurts, devoid of energy. "I had to twist her arm to have a baby" -- aw, that's a shame to hear; I hate that she phrased it that way -- "but once Henry was here, she said, 'I can do this -- eight more, and you've got a team.'" Kerry then brokenly chokes that Sandy had a huge family, but that all Kerry had was Sandy and Henry. "What am I supposed to do now?" she asks no one. Elizabeth, unsure what to do, offers to tell Sandy's family. "No, no, I'll go do it," Kerry whispers.
Susan finds Gallant taking inventory in the drug lock-up, and they have a little farewell scene. "Do people know?" she asks. "Not really," Gallant says. Susan gulps, and then tells him sincerely that a lot of circumstances conspired to kill Luis -- the nursing home whiffed and didn't give him a medic-alert bracelet, and Gallant whiffed by not getting the medical history before pushing Demerol. "If it goes to court, the army will send me back to testify," Gallant says quietly. Susan smiles that she doesn't think it will happen. "The bottom line is, people don't sue doctors they like, and for whatever reason, Mrs. Sanchez liked you," she says warmly. Gallant's face, bless him, actually brightens when he hears this, before he remembers that it doesn't change any of what has happened. Susan wishes him luck, and he reciprocates. They part company.
Kerry slowly walks down the hall toward Sandy's nervous family. The parents look up and see her standing there. We leave the scene on a shot of Kerry's haggard, spent face, drained of life.
Sam leaves the hospital. Luka sees her; she's surprised to see him. "Did they call you in early?" she asks, confused. "No, my shift doesn't start for an hour. I wanted to see you," he smiles. Sam's so surprised that I don't think the call she placed earlier was to Luka -- that, or maybe she didn't think he'd get the message, but if that were the case, why should she call at all? I don't know. That whole phone call was barely audible, anyway, so I wonder if it was deliberately muted in the mix because they realized it sort of confused things. She looks too surprised to see him for her to have called and asked him to come. Whatever. None of it matters -- the point is, he's there, and she collapses against him with relief and delight. "Sandy Lopez died today," Sam says to his chest. Luka is confused until Sam clarifies, "Weaver's Sandy." Luka exhales hard and tips his head skyward, and then hugs Sam to him again.
Gallant spies Luka and calls out, "Take care of yourself, Dr. Kovac." The camera cuts over to Gallant, who is shooting hoops -- badly -- with Pratt. Not since Clooney has anyone really known how to use the basketball; it's almost sad that they try to keep that damn thing alive. Gallant tells Pratt that he's got at least a year in Baghdad. "And you're just gonna sneak out under cover of darkness?" Pratt grins. "No high five, 'kiss my ass' -- nothing?" Gallant shrugs that he's not one for elaborate sendoffs. I'm the same way. Whenever I finish a job, I always try to slink out, because otherwise it's just a huge production. ...Wow, that was a great story. Aren't you glad I shared? Should we hold hands? Pratt basically acknowledges, though very indirectly, that Gallant's going to Iraq is some scary shit. "I'll miss you," he says simply. "Yeah, right," Gallant snickers. Pratt: "I'm serious. You're an honorable guy. I'm not sure I'd ever met one." Do you hear that, Carter? Put that in your asspipe and smoke it. Pratt and Gallant shake hands, with Pratt helpfully encouraging Gallant not to go off and get himself killed. Gallant nods, furrows his brow, and whips out a notebook to write that one down so that he doesn't forget. Then the poor love shoots the basketball and misses so very badly. That's a metaphor for something. God, I think that's a metaphor for a hundred things, actually; I'm just trying to decide which four apply to this scene.
Sam gets home, grouchy and tired and rubbing her head. Alex blares music from his room, behind a closed door; Sam calls out to him that he needs to turn it down, because she's got a headache and had a really rough day. Alex bursts out of the room and grins, "Guess what?" Sam turns, and a scruffy guy trots out of Alex's room purring, "You look good, though." Alex cheers, "Dad's here!" Sam's glare is stony. I would like to comment on actor Cole Hauser here -- something nice and superficial about his appearance -- but the apartment is dark and there are shadows, so I can't see. This is one of my great television pet peeves. TURN ON YOUR LIGHTS, people. It's a small switch. FLIP IT. Jeebus!
Sitting on a bench in the doctors' lounge, Kerry's right hand reaches out and strokes Sandy's firefighter helmet. She stares ahead into the middle distance, which is the universal sign for "My significant other went to Heaven and all I got was this lousy hair color." Abby creeps in and sits down to Kerry. "Is there anything I can do?" Abby says in a low voice. "Do you need me to watch Henry?" Kerry shakes her head and says he's with Sandy's family. Then her entire body stiffens and begins, ever so slightly, to tremble. Her lips purse, and you can tell she's swallowing every single urge to scream and wail that's coursing through her body. But the shaking becomes more vigorous. Abby reaches out to her, and that's all it takes to open the floodgates: Kerry lets out a gutteral sob and sags against Abby, sobbing. Abby quietly holds her. Lovely scene. Laura Innes is brilliant, and Maura Tierney just sits back and lets her be.
Gallant's all ready to leave for the airport, and rather adorably, he's dressed in his uniform. I don't think the military actually requires you to travel in uniform, as long as you report in it, but I'm not going to complain because Gallant is delicious in his little hat. "You'll need this," a voice calls out. It's Neela, arriving at the last second, because people on TV have impeccable timing. She holds out a rabbit's foot that she wants him to bring with him for luck. He thanks her. Then, ever so gingerly, they kiss on the lips. "You'd better come back. You know that, don't you?" Neela says, trying to sound primly commanding but barely able to hide her worry. "I will. You'd just better be a damn good doctor when I do," he says, his voice breaking. Bliss! That's all I can even say. They stare at each other for a really long moment, long enough for me to mourn their immense, wasted potential. "Bye, Michael," she whispers. He gets into the cab and drives away, turning to stare at her out the back window; tears leak down her cheeks.
Kerry parks outside a modest house and climbs up the path to the front door. A man comes to the door and inches through it onto the porch, holding it shut behind him. The signal there is clear -- he doesn't want Kerry inside. She dazedly tells him she's there for Henry. His name is Eduardo, and he lies that Henry isn't there and that he thinks the baby's with "an aunt, or something." Kerry is completely confused and absently tries to enter his house, but Eduardo blocks the door. Then he starts apologizing, because he always really did like her, but they're Henry's blood relatives. Kerry's face is the picture of desperate incomprehension. "What are you talking about? What's going on here? Where's Henry?" she moans. As she tries to fight past him, Henry starts to cry. "He's Sandy's son," Eduardo says, shoving Weaver back out onto the porch just as his wife, Theresa, walks into the shot holding Henry. Kerry reaches desperately for him, but Eduardo slams the door in her face and she falls to the ground. Clawing her way back up, Kerry begins screaming, "Give me back my son!" And we leave the episode on this picture of shrill panic, which is sort of a shame given the brilliant, subtle nuance of the rest of her performance. I don't blame her, though; the writers wrote a trite ending with coarsely drawn good and evil sides. There's only so much Laura Innes can do.