Welcome back to ER for Season 11. Now that Without A Trace has beaten an original episode of this show for the first time, do you think TPTB will recognize that it needs to euthanize the dinosaur before it has a heart attack and keels over in the middle of a big city, crushing thousands of residents with a rotting carcass no one can move for at least five years because it's too heavy? ...Or are we already there?
Everything you need to know: Neela abruptly quit her internship at the University of Michigan. Sandy Lopez died, and her parents sued Weaver for custody of the child Sandy delivered. Weaver made a tearful plea to the judge. Sam fled Chicago to get away from her creepy ex, and Luka was bummed. Carter and Kem's baby died. And Pratt treated an overweight Fry Cook, who then needed a ride home from the hospital. There was also a lot of other misery, loads of vomit, and a killer helicopter, but that's left out, because there's only so much mediocrity one can relive.
Here, the show blends the last bit of the previously-on segment with the first new scenes of the season. I've already recapped some of the shenanigans, so I'll pick up with the first bit of new footage: the rogue Buick is bumping Pratt's Chrysler Average while continuing to shoot at it, offended at having such tough competition for Most Mediocre Product of American Vehicular Engineers. Pratt's weaving in and out of the bridge traffic as the Buick gives chase. This mad gunman is the worst. He's aiming at a giant car with three people inside, he's got a lot of lead to pump into it, and he can't hit a damn thing. Not even an ear. It's like the tank psycho: just crazy enough to try it, but not insane enough to finish the job. I'm getting sick of Chicago's inept crazies -- can't these people get it together? Can't they organize?
Faced with gunfire and a drag race between two cars that more befit eighty-year-old retirees, Chen considers what she might say that could be the least helpful, and burps up, "We've got to get away from him!" Pratt almost pulls over to think about this one, because wanting to flee the mad gunman is a fairly radical point of view. Instead, though, he keeps driving and hoping that speed and some weaving will shake the Buick from his tail. But Chen won't shut up about her idea. "Get away from him!" she screams. And, two seconds later: "Get away from him!" Pratt shows admirable restraint in not telling Chen to shut her piehole, because she's not the one trying to control the wheel at a high speed while bullets whiz past her big empty noggin. I sort of wish he'd pull over long enough to dump her curbside.
A bullet hits Chen in the leg. Bingo! Well played, Newly Adequate Psycho. Well played indeed. She wails. The Buick, apparently widening its vendetta, smacks into another car and then careens into the Chrysler Asshat, knocking it over the bridge. It executes a perfect triple twist but lands in the water with a mighty splash; the score is a 5.7, but it would've been a tad higher if the German and Japanese judges hadn't spitefully marked off points in a fit of engineering arrogance. "Oh God," Chen groans, awfully inconvenienced by all of this. She reckons she's broken a rib. Pratt rubs his head, wincing. He immediately starts to look for ways out of the car, but they've got a problem: Fry Cook can't feel his legs, and he's three hundred pounds of hamburger, so that's not going to be an easy carry-out. Pratt frowns. "Take my hand," he says. Fry Cook tries, but he can't squeeze Pratt's fingers. "Kid might have a cervical cord injury," Pratt says quietly. Chen can't think of anything reassuring to say, and she certainly doesn't want the kid with the worse injury to steal her limelight, so she whimpers, "Aaaaaah, my leg." You know, it kind of sucks for the Chen character that TPTB put her parents in a crippling car accident and then shuffled her off a bridge in a Chrysler. they're going to harvest her eggs and just throw them out on the highway during rush hour.
While Pratt picks around at Chen's bullet wound -- he discovers, shockingly, that it's bleeding -- Chen calls 911. "I'm getting wet," Fry Cook mumbles. Sure enough, water is seeping into the car. Pratt grabs the phone and barks, "There's three of us in here. Hurry, we're sinking." Fry Cook, sprawled across the back seat and immobile, sputters pathetically that he doesn't want to die. Just for once I wish that during a disaster one character would be like, "I am stoked. Death would be a sweet release." We smash into the credits feeling like it's going to be a long season.
When we come back, the car is still in the river. "It's getting deeper," Fry Cook breathes, speaking of the water level in the back seat. Pratt is more concerned with freeing Chen from her seatbelt. O mighty seatbelt! Truly you are a titan -- a vehicular prison warden not to be bypassed. Chen, of course, whines a lot about the pain and the seatbelt and the blah blah blah, and then sucks it up and gets free anyway. Once Chen is safely out of the seatbelt's greedy cloth claws, Pratt is cruelly forced to pay heed to someone from whom he's unlikely to get any gratitude sex. "How come I can't move?" Fry Cook asks. Pratt tells him that he may have broken his neck. The car shudders suddenly and changes angles; Pratt -- Mr. Physics all of a sudden -- explains that the weight of the engine always takes the front of a car down first. Chrysler executives everywhere are scratching their heads to try and come up with advertising strategies to combat "sinks like a brick." And at least one person is designing Floaties for the wing mirrors.
Malarkey eats fried chicken at Reception, sucking the meat off the bone like he does life from our souls. He complains that all the other interns got a vacation and here he is stuck with an overnight shift. Frank says it's because Malarkey always calls in sick. "I have Epstein-Barr," Malarkey says. "It's not my fault they haven't found a cure yet." Frank believes this as much as I do, which is to say, not at all, you knobsling, so stop fellating Colonel Sanders and fix a puking kid or something. Malarkey asks who the Attending will be that night; Frank says Lewis was supposed to do it, but she's on maternity leave. I love that they brought back Susan, only to have 90% of her life happen off-camera. Lucky Sherry Stringfield. Malarkey fantasizes that her substitute will be "someone cool -- Carter, Kovac" -- who will let him go early. "Just as long as it's not..." he begins. "[MALARKEY]!" interrupts Weaver, with that all-too-familiar nasal bleat. I love Laura Innes but she needs to be kept within a certain decibel range. She scolds Malarkey for wasting fifteen minutes without picking up any patients, and then dispatches him and asks Frank about her other Attendings. Carter is apparently finishing up and Luka disappeared. "In the middle of his shift?" Kerry barks. Frank shrugs and compliments Weaver's nice suit. "Job interview?" he asks. Weaver glares at him, because really, she should be so lucky.
And now to the River Pryx, new home to Pratt and his Chrysler Titanic. Pratt and Chen have gingerly sat up Fry Cook while holding his head in place. "Try not to move your head," Pratt suggests helpfully. Um, if his neck is broken, I'm not sure he has much choice in the matter, but okay. Pratt comes to the conclusion that they're going to have to swim out of the car, as opposed to waiting for that damned beaming technology to be beta-tested. Chen complains about this, on account of her nicked leg. Diva, do you want to die? No? Then hush up and doggie paddle. At least your neck is in one piece. Pratt decides to open the window -- I thought you were supposed to do that, like, right away? -- and have Chen swim out and away, before he drags out Fry Cook. They all take deep breaths to prepare for the rush of water, and Pratt pushes on the window button. Apparently the significance of this escapes him until he has pushed it several times, with increasing frustration; it's not until after this vigorous attempt that he sits up and realizes, "Power windows." NO SHIT, SHERLOCK. Where there are buttons, there are power windows. So much for that plan.
In a car somewhere, Alex whines that he needs to pee. "You'll like Louisville," Sam says. Is this Non-Sequitur Theater, or is she implying that Kentucky is nature's washroom? Sam then pulls over at a motel she deems "not half bad," admiring its swimming pool. I guess she's still on the lam, and Alex still isn't happy about it. Eh. Don't care.
RiverCam shows us Pratt heaving himself against the car door, trying to get it open. "It's stuck," he says. "We're sinking!" Chen squeals. Good, well, then why don't you do something to help? I hate that all she's doing is screaming and flailing. Fry Cook explains that they have to wait for the water pressure to equalize in and outside the car: "When the water's high enough in the car, you can open the door easily," he says. "You've got to wait, man." So there they sit, heads above water, panting.
Outside, we see the car get completely sucked into the river. I have no idea how long all of this is meant to have taken, but it seems sort of unlikely that we wouldn't at least see or hear a cop siren, even if an ambulance hadn't made it yet. Inside the Chrysler Coffin, they all feel a thump. "What was that?" Chen asks. Pratt pauses. "It's...we're not alone," he intones, just as a long butcher knife is raised behind his head...Sorry. It's just that every time I hear a line like "What was that?" I always expect it to come before the arrival of a serial killer or some kind of inhuman monster. And since Pratt's already in the car, I figured it had to be the serial killer. The noise was actually heralding their arrival at the bottom of the river atop a pile of skeletons wearing cement boots. "Now what?" Chen asks. "I guess we wait," Pratt shrugs. I could swear Chen heaves an annoyed sigh.
Sam checks into the small motel. "Betteer call the police," Alex tells the old desk clerk. "She's kidnapping me." Sam hisses at him to cut it out, then smiles angelically at the clerk. "Kids," she apologizes. The desk clerk looks at her like, "Sigh. Mothers."
Pratt's about ready to try opening the door again. He tells Chen to swim out and kick toward the surface. She, of course, is all, "Oh, but I can't," which means she's officially been utterly and completely unhelpful in all of this. I get that she's scared, but she's not the only one -- she could at least be all, "Hey, thanks, Pratt -- thanks for not falling asleep in Physics class." Eventually, after all her complaining, Chen wriggles into the open water and swims up with complete ease. She waves at the rescue crew, which is now there in full force. "Help me!" she shouts. They mull it over, learn that her contract isn't up yet, and resignedly throw her a dinghy. "There's two more," she sputters. Pratt surfaces just then, without Fry Cook. "We got somebody down here!" he shouts. Apparently he couldn't get Fry Cook out; he got stuck on the door. Pratt wants to go back down but they insist the divers can do it. "We don't need any more victims!" Chief Rescuer shouts, ordering Pratt onto the boat.
Carter is erasing the board with Weaver when Luka arrives, sulking. "Nice of you to grace us with your presence," Weaver says snidely. "Family emergency. I'm back now," he retorts shortly. "I don't need you now. Go home," Weaver says. Yeah, right. Isn't County perpetually short-staffed? I mean, except when Luka's working, at which time it's absurdly long-staffed and can go for hours and hours. Luka, recognizing this, wants to put in those hours he owes, but Weaver would much rather walk around a noseless, pulpy freak than accept the help. She barks that it's not a co-op, and that Luka can just stay away time he decides to leave mid-shift. Luka huffs to Frank that he should call the nursing administrator and tell her that Sam's never coming back. Then he stomps out. "He doesn't even have a family," Frank mutters conspiratorially to Carter. For his part, Carter looks concerned about Luka, but distracts himself by complimenting Kerry's suit. "Another court date?" he asks. "How'd it go?" Weaver stiffly replies, "Okay." I had to think back to realize that she'd have arrived straight from the tearful-plea scene.
A girl and a burly man ["You can't fool me; I recognize the voice of Bender B. Rodriguez!" -- Wing Chun] are fighting. "She's LYING, she's a drug dealer!" Burly shouts. As Weaver approaches, Malarkey introduces the two of them: Burly is a cop, and Tiffany is the alleged dealer and has "a foreign body in the vagina." Big whoop -- anyone who's slept with Luka has been able to say the same. Burly alleges that Tiff stuffed her stash up her birth canal when she got busted. "No problem. I can fish it out," Malarkey says brightly. You know he's hoping she'll let him smoke it out. Weaver snaps that he'll do no such thing, and asks the woman if she's in any pain. "No," Tiffany says triumphantly. Weaver points out that since it's not a medical emergency, doing a pelvic without consent constitutes assault. "This guy said he would [do it]," Burly says, pointing at Malarkey, who shrugs innocently. Weaver gives him a look that would shatter a bong.
Outside, Carter calls out to a departing Luka. The whole scene is shot in near pitch black, which is a technique I really hate. Realism, shmealism, people -- LIGHT YOUR SETS. God. "Something going on with Sam?" Carter asks. "She left," Luka replies simply. "To go where?" Carter asks. "I have no idea," Luka admits. "Did she take Alex?" Carter wonders. "Is she coming back?" Luka doesn't know but he doesn't think so. Silence. Luka insists that he's fine. "Say goodbye to Kem for me," he adds, patting Carter on the arm and exiting toward the camera. Carter watches him go with puffy concern.
Abby drifts into Reception to ask Frank a question. "New interns don't start until tomorrow," he says. Abby exposits that this is her final nursing shift, and that she's trying to finish it up so she can get some sleep. Suddenly, Neela appears, to the surprise of Abby, who thought Neela was in Michigan. "Get kicked out already?" Frank asks. Hmm. Not nice, but at least not a flaming racist. That's an improvement. Neela quietly asks Abby if she has time to talk; Abby isn't sure, blah blah sleep, excuses excuses..."I may have just thrown away my medical career," Neela blurts.
Weaver interrupts, braying with Burly about Tiffany's stash. "We don't do strip searches," she says. "Give me a break -- the jail nurse won't do pelvics," he pleads. "That's your problem," Weaver says. Just then, Malik announces a multi-victim crash and asks how many of the pedestrians and passengers they can take. "Three," Weaver says. She realizes that it's just her and Malarkey -- see? Why the hell did she send Luka home if there's only two doctors? -- and asks Abby if she can stay. "No, I...I..." Abby begins. "Good," Weaver cuts her off. "Go find [Malarkey] -- he's probably hiding in the bathroom again staring at Maxim." If that's the case, then I don't think anybody wants to walk into that bathroom, because I guarantee you that not all of Malarkey would be in hiding.
Chen and Pratt are now safe outside the water. Chief Rescuer wants to put a neck collar on Pratt, but he barks that he's fine. "How come they're not bagging him?" he says, squinting at the rescue ship, where Fry Cook has been heaved on deck. "Is he alive?" The rescuer radios over to ask whether Fry Cook has any vitals, and they learn that he doesn't. Pratt exhales, aggrieved, and we fade to black feeling like Fry Cook's had a damn rough couple of days, what with the heart trouble and the collapsing and the guns and the neck breakage and the death.
We come up on Abby heading out to the ambulance bay, unable to believe that Neela up and quit. They're interrupted by a woman whose son has a flashing red nose; it seems Rudolph made a reindeer game out of shoving red LEDs up his schnozz. His mother doesn't seem grateful that he's experimenting with LEDs rather than LSD. You know, some people just can't see the forest. The grass is always greener up someone else's son's nose. Abby packs them off to triage, where they are then edited into oblivion.
A man is unloaded out of an ambulance right then, wailing in a familiar-sounding voice, "Give me something for the pain, man!" When I first heard this I wasn't looking at the TV, so my reaction was, "Holy shit, John Goodman has GOT to start saying NO to people." Then I looked up and realized it was just a sound-alike. But my point about John Goodman is still valid. Anyway, the guy has a dislocated hip and gets sent off with Malarkey, which means he's probably about to get a second one and a bonus nagging rash of some kind. Neela volunteers to do some sutures on a pedestrian from the scene, but Weaver roughly points out she's not a student and isn't covered to practice medicine at County. Neela has the nads to look crushed by this. "You want to stay, you observe," Weaver says. If Neela is so anti-medicine, why is she hanging around there?
Chen is unloaded from the rig. Everyone's surprised to see her, and not just because she was written out of most of last season. "What happened?" they ask. "Road rage," she manages. "Guy shot at us." We hear Pratt shouting, "Get me off this damn backboard!" Chen explains to Kerry that Pratt was driving. Weaver sends Abby with Pratt, who is cursing up a storm about having to be coddled. "He's combative, with a scalp lac," the paramedic says. "I'm not combative. I'm just pissed off," Pratt sneers. Well, you say potato, I say combative asshat. Let's call the whole thing off.
In Trauma Green, Malarkey is hunched over trying to relocate a man's hip. It's so ugly -- he's yanking and swearing and he tugs so hard that he smacks his head against a ceiling lamp. Would that it had dislocated his "drooling fool" gene. Weaver makes him leave so that they can have the room for Chen. "That's the guy that shot at us," Chen whimpers. Adios, culprit! Better luck car chase. It's not that I actually want Chen or Pratt dead, but that I'm tired of nutjobs who don't fully commit to their insane missions. Go sit in the corner and think about where you failed, pal. I hear there are lots of corners in jail.
Pratt's shouting and being generally annoying as Abby and others lift him onto a table in Trauma Yellow. She yells for a bunch of tests Pratt insists he doesn't need, because that's what brash doctor characters always do in situations like this, and God forbid this show take an unusual approach. Pratt wants to know how Chen's doing -- she has a fractured sternum, I think -- and he, of course, starts calling out suggestions for her treatment. Neela asks him to stop so that she can examine him. Pratt points out correctly that Neela isn't supposed to be doing anything. "You're a resident. No one's going to care if I kill you," she says. Ha ha, Neela, good one, except you're full of it. I know she's not doing anything life-threatening to him, but if she did kill him somehow, there would be an investigation just like with any other patient. Neela has met Weaver, right? Pratt still tries to shout out stuff about Chen until Weaver yells at him to shut his yapper.
Things are apparently so bad at County that a paramedic has to come into the trauma room rudely asking for a doctor to pay attention to his paralyzed patient, who got pulled out of the river. Pratt realizes that this is Fry Cook, and is relieved he's alive. "[Fry Cook] was with you?" Neela asks, blanching, apparently affected because she helped diagnose him initially. Weaver sends Abby off to check Fry Cook. "You're a doctor now?" the medic asks. "I start tomorrow," Abby says. Weaver announces that she's bumped up Abby's start date by twelve hours. "Now go," she says. Abby stands there pursing her lips. "What, you want an engraved invitation? Go, go, go," Weaver shrills. Earplugs, earplugs, earplugs.
Abby arrives at Fry Cook just as Elizabeth makes it there for the consult. There is some cooing over Abby's new job, but basically, nothing happens.
Weaver okays them removing Pratt from the backboard. Neela says she'll get Malarkey to suture Pratt's head. "Screw that, I'll do it myself," Pratt grumbles. Good call. Malarkey couldn't sew his own seed, let alone someone's cranial skin. Suddenly, Chen starts to crash in Trauma Green, and we find out that she's wearing a very modest, boring white bra. I would make fun of her if I didn't also own some boring white bras that I wear on laundry days or under boring white shirts. Just because she gives handjobs in movie theaters doesn't mean she's got an endless supply of lacy undergarments. They decide Chen is accumulating blood in her pericardium, and of course Pratt takes this as his cue to enter and try to take control. "Back off, Pratt, or I'll check your rectal tone with my crutch," Weaver hisses. And I will sell tickets. Chen croaks that she needs someone to call her house and get her father's nurse to stay late. Chen's leg pulses are faint, so they order some tests and Weaver leaves to check on Fry Cook.
Frank sidetracks Weaver with news that Sandy's brother Eduardo has called and sounds upset. "What, is Henry okay?" Weaver panics. "Who?" Frank replies sensitively. Weaver orders him to find out if her son is healthy. She's then accosted by Burly, who tells her they're getting a judge to order a body cavity search on Tiffany. "Good for you," Weaver yawns. She pulls a curtain around Fry Cook's body. "Henry's fine, but [Eduardo] still wants to talk to you," Frank reports. Weaver stiffens and refuses to take the call, because she's mature like that. Abby reports that Fry Cook has decreased breath sounds. "I agree," Neela says. So what? You quit. No one asked you. I like Neela, but she really needs to go away right now. Weaver clearly agrees, as she snaps, "You don't work here any more." Neela sighs, as if Weaver is boring her with these trifling facts. Weaver decides that Fry Cook is breathing fine and suffering from spinal shock, so he doesn't need a chest tube. Abby is surprised by this and resists it, but Weaver is certain. Ergo, she will be wrong and Fry Cook will die. Certainty is the kiss of death on this show.
Neela turns even more solemn and grave when she decides to call Fry Cook's mother. Oh, just become a nurse already; that's obviously where we're going with this. Yawn.
Malarkey stitches up a doped Pratt. "I shave my melon, man," Pratt slurs. "Go with the five-oh. Minimize the scar." Malarkey giggles. Then we cut into Trauma Green just long enough for someone to alert Kerry that Abby is doing a thoracotomy on Fry Cook. Irritated, Weaver trucks back over to Abby. That is a weird cut -- it feels too soon to go back to Abby. The pacing of this episode is really odd.
Fry Cook is a giant mess of blood. "Are you out of your mind?" Weaver shouts. "He was coding!" Abby protests. "I told you he didn't need a chest tube," Weaver says. "He had three liters in his chest," Abby retorts, not without indignant triumph in her voice. Weaver is shocked. While they try to revive him, Mother Neela Teresa does her good deed and calls Fry Cook's family, leaving a very professional but still somber message. Then she lowers the phone. "Machine," she tells everyone. Right, and you haven't hung up on it yet. HANG UP THE PHONE. Poor Mama Fry Cook is getting an earful of her son's gurgling, leaky innards and some threateningly bleepy equipment. Very reassuring indeed. Neela might as well call back with a blow-by-blow of the carnage.
Malarkey finishes Pratt's sutures with a flourish and compliments himself on a job well done. I keep expecting to pan around and see that he used duct tape and staples. "You are definitely a lightweight when it comes to morphine," he teases a conked-out Pratt. But when he tries to wake Pratt for a CT scan, Pratt won't get up. For the first time in his life and our short acquaintance with him, Malarkey gets an idea. A good idea. Indeed, a professional idea, one that wasn't even written on a fortune cookie. Malarkey checks Pratt's eyes and discovers that he's blown a pupil. I can say that without vomiting because...well, I'm drunk. Malarkey curses and calls for an intubation tray and some very authentic-sounding fluids. Malarkey has actually learned something. Two nearby nurses stare at him in complete dread, like they're not used to him asserting himself unless it involves breasts or pot. It's kind of hilarious. "Should I get Weaver?" one of them asks nervously. Malarkey commands them to give him mannitol as soon as the tube is in, and he whips out and preps the tubing tool like it's a gun wrenched from his holster. The two nurses are totally looking all, "Dude, this can't be good. Nothing he does is good."
Fry Cook is a goner. He's all cracked open and bleeding and dead, and Neela looks ashen. Lily interrupts to say that Pratt's herniating, so Weaver squeezes past a messy Abby and bolts to the trauma room. "We need to close his chest," Neela says dazedly. "His mother's coming. I don't want her to have to see him like this." Thank you, Nurse Neela. Please have your career epiphany already so that we can get on with our lives.
Pratt has a brain bleed. "Classic presentation with a lucid interval," Malarkey says smoothly. "It's a skull fracture." They think he tore his middle meningeal artery. I can use big words; until today I figured that made me Malarkey's doctoring equal. They wheel him into the elevator, and Elizabeth shoots Weaver one of her patented harried, concerned looks. The doors close on her.
Carter dashes in through his front door and apologizes to Kem for being late. "I called the restaurant -- they can take us at 9:30. Let me throw on a clean shirt...." Kem sits up and interrupts that they should just stay home and watch a movie. Carter stops in his tracks and lets out a blast of frustrated air. Clearly this isn't the first, or even tenth, time Kem's cancelled on plans to leave the house. "Sure," he capitulates, going to sit on the couch. The second his ass hits the cushion, Kem bolts up to go get some Thai food menus. Carter gazes at the void with a heavy heart.
Abby quietly walks up to Neela, who is still suturing Fry Cook's chest. "The good news is the pupil went down," she says of Pratt. "The bad news is, he needs surgery and may have long-term brain damage." They have to wait and see. If this show cops out on Pratt having anything wrong with him, then this will be the worst season premiere ever. I'm not advocating damaging a character's brain, but just worrying that all this build will -- like most things on ER -- be for naught. Abby then kindly asks Neela if she wants to talk about what's wrong, but Neela suddenly does not, because it's not a good time for her. Never mind that she's been Abby's shadow all night trying to get in some face time. Neela needs to grow a pair. Now there's a story for you -- it's not that she doesn't want to be a doctor, it's that she doesn't want to be a female doctor. YES. Without A Trace? Without a tranny. Do it, TPTB! Neela encourages Abby to go home and get any sleep she can before starting tomorrow. "I don't think I'm going to be sued for missing a suture in a dead boy's chest," Neela says glumly. "Go. I'll wait for his mother." Abby understands that this is something Neela needs to do, for whatever reason, and leaves her. We fade to black on Neela finishing up her sewing job, impressed with her skill and wondering if, when she's done, she could perhaps have a crack at shortening those jeans I just bought that are so long they come past my toes. Stupid designer pants.
Pitch black. The only inkling I get that we've started up again is the NBC logo. Ah, but then we begin what ends up being one long shot, wherein we pan horizontally across all the characters we see. We begin with Luka moving across the screen while lying in bed and picking up the phone, ostensibly to call me; failing that, a 1-900 number. Evidently no one answered either line (where was I?! Curses!), so as a last resort he calls Sam.
As we hear a buzzing phone, we pan across Alex sleeping in a hotel bed and then Sam appears. She checks her vibrating phone, sees who it is, and tosses it away with difficulty, resisting the urge to shove it in her pants.
As Sam drifts off camera and Luka appears, her voice mail picks up. He hangs up, dejected.
Then we drift in a different direction and are suddenly in Carter and Kem's bedroom. Mercifully, there is nothing happening herein; Kem is sleeping, and Carter is watching her with bloated anxiety, although he might just be fretting about when he'll lose all his water weight. Finally we make a cut, and it's to...I can't even tell. It's so dark in there. It's dark in tall these shots. Why do shows insist upon rejecting lights? I know Noah Wyle has to be lit carefully these days but pitch black isn't the most viewer-friendly option. On several tries, indeed, I was unable to tell what this shot was, and forced my passing roommate to stand up to the TV and stare until she figured it out. Eventually she recognized a half-packed suitcase. I guess Kem's leaving town, fed up that Chicago has less working electricity than her tent in the Congo.
Then we're with Chen, who is lying in bed all battered and bruised and broken, watching Pratt's gurney being wheeled out of surgery and into a parking spot to hers. Elizabeth shoots Chen a very grave glance, and is given a worried one in return. Elizabeth sighs. Do they pay her less if they give her only noises and facial expressions, and no lines? Is that why they ignore her like this?
Luka's voice asks if Pratt has woken up yet. We cut downstairs to see that it's the start of a new day, and Weaver is telling her Croatian God of Medicine that Pratt hasn't arisen. Frank pipes up that in addition to their two maimed doctors upstairs, this Eduardo person keeps calling for Weaver in a total tizzy. Finally, there are new interns. Shane West walks up and introduces himself as Ray Barnett. Remember when he was just Eli and he started out just kind of cute -- I mean, before he became a brooding It Guy contender coated in the thin sweat of one trying desperately to embody teenage rebellion? Those were the days. "Are you Dr. Weaver?" he asks. Weaver apologizes for...what, her appearance? Being inattentive? Who knows -- and says she's been awake all night. "Could've fooled me," Ray says in the hushed, leery tones of a wussy version of Pratt. Weaver totally shoots him a look that says, "Oh, gross, Junior -- my wife had more masculine appeal than you do." Across the reception area Luka proffers his hand to one Howard Ritzke, who for some weird reason can't bring himself to take it, so instead he just waves uncomfortably. Dude, TOUCH THE HOT MAN. It's okay. Maybe it will rub off.
Weaver dispatches the newbies upstairs for orientation, and then starts having a conversation with Luka about "the baby," whose story must have been excised from the top of the episode for time or suckage reasons. Guess they were stuck with this and the later reference, because they're tied to other stories. Heh. No such thing as a clean lift. Anyway, while they're talking about The Baby, Abby dashes through the door apologizing for sleeping through her alarm. Weaver tells her that, since she already has an ID badge and knows where the bathrooms are, Abby was excused from orientation so that she could follow up on some patients from the night. "All you need is a lab coat," Weaver says, tossing Abby a folded piece of fabric. "Welcome to County, Dr. Lockhart." Abby looks down and the coat reads, "A. Lockhart, M.D."
Burly appears. "You a doctor?" he spits. "Yes," Abby says, almost surprised at herself. "Yes, I am," she adds with more assertiveness. I like her so much better now that she's doing something proactive with herself. (Take a lesson, Neela.)
Luka is now with The Baby and its parents. Apparently the kid got botulism. "Will she get better?" the parents ask. "It doesn't really matter," Luka says. "Your storyline doesn't mean anything because it doesn't show up anywhere else." The parents begin to argue about this turn of events as Abby sneaks up beside a bemused Luka. "Know anything about a search warrant?" she asks. "We're not doing it," Luka says cheerfully, watching the parents spar pointlessly. "IF I YELL THIS LINE MAYBE PEOPLE WILL REMEMBER I WAS IN THIS EPISODE!" the mother screams. "MAKE THE MOST OF CRAFT SERVICES!" shrieks her husband-for-the-day. "Good luck," Abby snickers to Luka, leaving.
Abby catches up with Burly, who is not hard to find on account of the fact that he's huge, shadowing her, and mustachioed like no man since Ned Flanders. "I was up all night trying to get that search warrant!" he complains. Abby shrugs that it doesn't say that County has to perform the search. Burly explodes that she can't possibly expect him to get a court order compelling them to do it. Abby smiles that if they agree to do forced cavity searches for cops, no one's going to come to County for treatment any more. Burly snorts that he's going to get the court order, and if Abby refuses that, he'll arrest her. Abby sighs and turns her head, peering into Tiffany's room. Tiffany waves. Abby returns it with facetious cheer.
The paramedics wheel in an older guy who is spitting up blood. Of course he is. "I'm Ab...I'm Dr. Lockhart," Abby corrects herself. Aw. The old guy, George, has tonsil cancer and his throat won't stop bleeding. Right now he must be kicking himself for not getting those bastards out when he was twelve. Haleh joins Abby in Trauma Green as they try to treat him with numbing spray and a clotting agent. Of course, though, the guy gags on something and sits up to hurl a bunch of globs of dark blood in or direction. Thank you so much. week somebody is going to barf up some eyeballs, I just know it. Abby tries to make him more comfortable, and then continues treating him. "You're bleeding over a large area," she says. Yes, he is. It's called Camera One. Abby offers him a few options, but George refuses any of her help. "If we don't stop this, you could bleed to death," Abby says gently. "I guess," the guy pants, "maybe today's the day." Haleh and Abby swap looks, Haleh's of sadness and Abby's of...God, I don't even know. Maura Tierney is great at inscrutable expressions but she deploys them just a tad too often for my taste.
Alex is face-down in a swimming pool, floating limply as this plot. Sam walks up with a towel and stares at him. "Alex," she calls out. Nothing. "Alex," she says, a bit more sternly. Then she waits, and sure enough, Alex pops up sputtering a few seconds later. "I could've been dead and you wouldn't have noticed," he whimpers. Sam ignores this and says that if they leave now, they'll be halfway to Florida by dinner. "I don't want to go there," he complains. Then we cut to an AlexCam shot, peering up from the water at Sam's downturned face. It's really distracting and it's no good for the scene because it takes us right out of it, so the director is basically just showing off at this point. It's off-putting. Maybe TPTB sent out a memo saying that the water cameras were very expensive to be used in just one act of the show, so could they please find a way to incorporate them elsewhere? In which case, I am blessed and grateful that they rejected any and all drafts of the script that called for "Carter ponders life during a hot bath," and "Frank and Malarkey fall in some mud and have to take a shower, with R-rated results." Alex rejects every idea Sam tosses out for where to go. He only wants Chicago. "That's not an option," Sam says firmly. "I don't have time for this." Alex decides mulishly that he'd like to stay here. "Really. Right there?" she asks. "Yeah!" he grins. "And I can't change your mind?" she asks, jocularity creeping into her tone. "Nope," he insists. Sam shrugs and then leaps into the pool, fully-clothed. PoolCam shows us what Linda Cardellini's stomach looks like when she's submerged and her shirt floats up to her chest. TPTB have got to be salivating. "We'll stay here in this pool for the rest of our lives!" Sam laughs, dunking Alex. PoolCam shows her tackling him under water, except that at first glance it looks shockingly like an illegal clinch of some kind. Ew.
Abby gives George one more chance to accept treatment that would stop the hemorrhaging. "Will it cure my cancer?" he asks. Abby smiles at him, getting the point. George shakes his head. "You're sure?" she asks. "Yes," he says. This actor actually does a pretty good job. You can see the agony and the anticipation in his eyes as he knows that, scary as it is, this is the right thing. Congrats, George -- death is an option. You're saved from ever having to make the choice, "Roseanne Barr, or Courtney Love?" George is still a little scared, begging Abby to stay with him; she promises she will, but then gets called away to see another patient. Abby is torn, unsure whether to go with her heart or her head. It's the nurse in her that wants to see this through the way she always has been able to do. Haleh notes this and pipes up comfortingly, "I'll be here, George." Abby thanks her, but gets in one last promise that she'll return.
Chen watches Pratt's eyelids flutter open. She quickly tells him that he's been intubated, lest Pratt wonder why, for the first time in their joint history, he is the one with something massive down his throat. He wants a pad and pen, so Chen summons a nurse; Pratt scrawls a note and hands it over to her. "I have a shift at 8 AM," she reads with a smile. "Well, you're late," she starts to joke lightly. "It's already noon." But as soon as the words are out, concern washes over her face and she leans back onto her pillow to continue watching him. ...Whoa, the first time, I accidentally typed that she was washing him, and wow, am I happy we were also spared THAT WaterCam scene.
Abby scribbles things onto the board. Luka smiles at her. "That coat suits you," he says quietly. He's sort of right, but as Wing Chun pointed out, she shouldn't have chosen one without lapels because it makes her look very matronly. ["Susan should quit wearing them, too." -- Wing Chun] "Thank you," she grins at him. A nurse interrupts that Luka has a collect call, and he goes off to take it, baffled.
Neela appears in fresh scrubs and cheerfully invites Abby to breakfast. Abby wonders half-seriously if Neela moved into County. "I slept in the call room," she admits. "I [already] gave up my apartment." Abby wants to know if Pratt and Chen are okay. "Greg's not up," Neela says. Silence. "Well, it's only been a couple hours," Abby attempts.
This is where the writers decided they could shove in a chunk of Weaver to resolve that cliffhanger, most likely leaving them free to marginalize and minimize the character at will (and so that Laura Innes can direct, which...hey, at least her talents will be used somewhere). We join Weaver as she chats up her lawyer, The Bald Eagle, who is coaching her to relax. Eduardo Lopez asks if Weaver got all his messages. She unrolls her Jump To Conclusions mat, takes a hearty leap using her crutch as a pole vault, and lands on "Assume you and the person in question have said all there is to say." Eduardo torches her mat and asks her to hear him out, over El Macho Baldie's objections. "Two minutes, Kerry," Eduardo pleads, as his parents gaze up at Kerry from a level below.
We smash to a judge expositing that the Lopezes have agreed to give Weaver full legal and physical custody of Henry, in exchange for nannying him while Kerry is at work. Everyone nods; Weaver is weeping. "We just want to be a part of Henry's life," Mrs. Lopez says, beaming tearfully at Kerry. Say what? That's revisionist. They snatched the kid on the grounds that he wasn't biologically Kerry's, and they complained about her job and sued her for custody, and suddenly it was all just born of a heretofore unfounded fear that Weaver would cut them out of Henry's life? WhatEVer. Somebody is trying to dismantle an asspole of a storyline. As Kerry sobs a delighted thank you, we fade to black thinking that this might've had emotional resonance if there hadn't been many, many months since the finale, and if the whole charade hadn't then been swept under the rug. But hey, at least the Angel of Death plot will have some more company under there.
My notes here read, "Abby does rounds. Blah blah blah." One of these days that'll be an actual episode description in TV Guide. There's some kerfuffle over Abby having to take the interns around, because Luka took off mid-shift. Again?" Abby gapes.
Luka's Ford SUV -- "Buy Ford: We'll Stay On The Bridge" -- pulls into the parking lot of the motel Sam and Alex are occupying. He hops out in sunglasses and a tightish dark t-shirt, and my TV faints. Alex spies him from across the parking lot. "Luka!" he shouts adoringly. As Sam looks up and shoots Luka a stunned and agitated expression, Alex beams from ear to ear. And the most important thing: he has a mullet. Seriously. The kid has clean bangs in the front and long tresses in the back and oh, God, Luka, this family needs you.
Carter and Kem cross a bridge slowly, as if making a funeral procession. And as it turns out, that's exactly what they're doing: Carter has a tiny box that's full of their son's ashes. "Is there a prayer?" he asks, emptily. "We should say something." Kem nods, dead-eyed. Carter coughs. "We miss you," he begins. "And you'll always be in our hearts." And that's it. I know he's grieving, but does he have to be so Hallmark about it? I can't tell if he's in mourning or sending a card to an old friend. As Carter opens the box and extracts a small silver bag the likes of which contain free cosmetic gifts, Kem begins speaking French -- she's reciting the relevant parts of the whole "To everything there is a season" passage as oppressive violin music reminds us that the pain we feel in our chest is not, in fact, indigestion, but the sensation of horsehair bows being run across our heartstrings. Carter fondles the fancy little bag, then tips it out over the river, releasing his son's ashes, a vial of Clinique Happy, and some waterproof mascara. Kem weeps as the wind carries their son's remains away from them. Carter hugs her. "I want you to stay," he chokes. "I can't," she sniffles. "Please. I want us to be together. I want to marry you," Carter pleads. Instead of answering, Kem turns, throws her arms around his neck, and buries her face in Carter's shoulder. That's French for "no," I think.
Abby plops down in front of Tiffany, who is cranky and handcuffed to a gurney. "I've been here almost eighteen hours," she bleats. "I'm aware of that," Abby replies sunnily. She then begins a nice piece of manipulation by telling the girl that Burly woke up two judges in the middle of the night to get enough court orders to force them to do a pelvic on her, and now the head of public health is coming to do it himself. "He says he hasn't actually done a pelvic in about ten years, but he's willing to 'give it a shot,'" Abby says, using all the necessary air quotes. "So, you can either wait here for another hour for the old guy to give you what I'm sure will be a remarkably painless and gentle exam, or you can let me do it right now." Tiffany looks horrified.
Cut to Abby handing Burly a plastic bag: Apparently a freaked-out Tiffany yanked her pot tampon out all on her own. I hope Abby cleaned it.
Haleh asks Abby to sign George's death certificate. Gutted, Abby asks Haleh why she didn't come find her. "He was DNR; you were busy," Haleh replies. Abby pauses. "But you were with him?" she asks in a litte-girl voice. "Yeah," Haleh says. Abby is quiet again. "He was comfortable?" she finally asks. "Yeah," Haleh says, but with a slight this-isn't-your- job-anymore edge to her tone. Abby is left alone, kind of thrown.
Neela, of course, pops up again to try and turn the conversation toward her. Should've talked last night when the employed person offered some time and a willing ear, Neela. Abby accepts the coffee Neela has for her and they start to pedeconference. "I told the director I didn't want an internship," Neela begins. "At Michigan?" Abby asks. "Anywhere," Neela says. Abby is stunned. Neela says he told her to think about it. "You're lucky he didn't fire you!" Abby says. "Would've made it simpler," Neela sighs. Abby can't believe she's so close, after eight years of school, and can't stand one more year. "I don't want to do it," Neela says decisively. Abby thinks she's throwing away her future. "I'm not sure it's the future I want," Neela confesses. Abby gets called away somewhere and promises they'll get a bite to eat later. Okay, so that scene and indeed this entire episode told us absolutely nothing new at all about this storyline. Thanks a packet, TPTB.
At night, Luka is outside the motel, waiting for Sam to emerge. What's he been doing all day, then? Shopping? When she shows her face to get some ice, he calls out, "What are you doing, Sam?" She shrugs that this is what she does -- she's nomadic, Luka knew it, and she'll be that way "for as long as [she has] to." Luka insists that she can't keep running. She approaches him. "Sure I can," she says, but she doesn't even believe herself. "This isn't just about Steve," Luka begins. "I'm sorry," she interjects. "Sometimes there's collateral damage. I have to do this for Alex." Luka snorts that it doesn't seem to be floating Alex's boat terribly much. "Is this the life you want for him? For yourself?" he asks softly. Sam looks gutted. "I don't know what else to do," she admits. Luka knows he has her, and with growing firmness -- no, not in that way -- orders Sam to her car and tells her to follow him back to Chicago. "You don't have to do this alone," he says as she begins to cry. "You can trust me," he coos, stroking her face. I melted about two minutes ago, by the way. The executor of my will is finishing this recap. Sam allows herself a small smile as she no-shit-Sherlocks that trusting people isn't something she does very readily. "Give it a try," he breathes. "It can't be any worse than this, can it?" They both emit tiny chuckles.
Kem and Carter are on a bench out where they dumped the ashes. Darkness has descended and Kem is ready to leave, or else she'll miss her flight. "When are you coming back?" Carter asks. Oh, man, he should've known not to go there. Kem hedges that she's not sure. "My schedule's flexible," Carter tries again. "I can come visit in a few weeks...." Oh, please, don't do this to yourself, Carter. It's like he's the oblivious high-school nerd, pressing the hot chick for answers she doesn't want to have to say to his face. "Can we talk about it when I get back?" Kem interrupts uncomfortably. Carter's face falls. "I've got to rest...get back into work..." she offers lamely. Funereal music starts up as Carter mentally acknowledges the impending demise of his relationship. Then he delivers the final blow to his own soul by asking if she'll talk about marrying him. Kem scrunches her forehead. "I love you," he presses. SHUT UP CARTER. God. It's sad, but dude, leave her alone -- for your OWN sake. If you keep talking it won't end well. It's like watching a geek get his flowers run over by the hot girl's car. "I just...I don't know what to think about anything," Kem bursts. "It all just happened so fast, and felt so right, didn't it?" Carter nods. And has the sense to remain silent. ...Oh, wait, no, he doesn't: "It is right," he says simplistically. Yes. Pressure is so sexy, Carter. Almost as sexy as The Beard. Kem begs for a bit more time, and then leans over and kisses him. The closed captioning reads, "passionate Ugh," and while I know it's supposed to be a passionate kiss and a wail of sorrow from Kem, it totally reads like she's ardently repulsed by him, and I like to think that's the subtext. "I love you too," Kem does finally say. "I love you so much." And we fade to black seeing Carter's eyes as he recognizes that he may be with her for the last time, no matter how much love they have between them. Again: empirically, this is a sad story. But told with so much time between episodes, and so quickly with a guest star who's too busy to commit to more, is a mistake. But, I hope we can move on now.