Previously on ER: Abby became a doctor, while Neela had second thoughts about becoming one. Luka convinced Sam to come back to Chicago and stop running from Steve. And Kem returned to Africa without Carter.
We begin in a dark room, wind blowing through the open windows and making the curtains dance. This is Carter's bedroom, and I like to think he keeps it cold to chill any warm impulses emanating from his loins. The alternative is...no. Kem's disembodied voice wails, "John!" Carter sits bolt upright in bed, sweating and throwing off the covers. A baby cries. Carter charges into the would-be nursery and stops, panting, expecting to see Kem and instead seeing nothing -- but that might be because the show has a shadow fetish and refuses to have scenes in people's houses that require light. The noise of Kem and the child disappears, and Carter exhales hard: His life still bites.
, we visit another bed across town. A figure lies in bed. Then the figure rolls awake and turns on a lamp.... Oh, you got me, I'm totally kidding about that last part. In part because of the aforementioned distaste for watts, the only thing the guy turns on is me, because the guy is Luka, and he's in a wifebeater. Rrowr. We cut into a living room that's also dark, and a door opens and closes, and for another period of seconds, no shapes are distinguishable. As the camera pans, it's apparent suddenly that Luka has exited the bedroom and is seeking Sam, who is standing at the open window staring outside. Luka hugs her from behind. "He'll come back," Sam says absently. "We won't have any idea when...." Like he's a serial killer. Or a stalker. Or a wind-up Steve-In-The-Box. Luka promises that they'll deal with it when it happens. "I don't know why you'd want to," Sam sighs. Oh, honey. Lake Michigan's nearby, if you're that eager to go fishing. She moves across the room and looks at Alex, who is asleep. "I can think of a reason," Luka says cryptically. Then he closes the window and oh-so-casually suggests that Sam and Alex need a bigger place, so they should come live with him. "What?" she gasps. "Luka, if we all move in together, it's gonna be because it's something we all want, not because you think we need to be protected." She turns on her heel. "Hey," Luka calls to her. Sam grumbles that she's going to take a shower. "HEY," Luka repeats firmly. Sam reluctantly turns around, and man, does that exchange reek of a father dealing with his petulant child. But instead of threatening to spank her, grounding her, or trying to make her eat brussels sprouts (fiendish -- fiendish), Luka simply holds up a spatula and asks if she wants her eggs scrambled or fried. Sam stares at him for a second, realizes that this is a détente, and says with a trace of conciliation and an ounce of mischief, "Poached." Then she heads for the shower. Luka stares. "Poached," he utters, the wind firmly out of his sails and probably directing itself over to Carter's place to heave through his open windows and chill El Puffy's sperm to a halt.
A freshly arisen Abby staggers through her apartment looking for her ringing phone. But it's not her home phone that's ringing; it's a cell phone, which she answers curiously. Props to Maura Tierney for managing to muster up "morning voice" -- it sounds like a pack of smokes had a party in her larynx. The caller is clearly Neela's mother, and we learn two seconds later that Neela has in fact been crashing on Abby's couch. "It's for you," Abby says, nudging her awake. Neela gulps and takes it. "Hello, Neela?" a voice asks. We smash to the credits on Neela's queasy expression, and we thank the sweet baby Jesus at length that this show doesn't tend to make its main cast members deploy the vomit comet.
When we return, Neela is behaving much as I do at the prospect of a parental visit: running around in a tizzy, shoving things under other things, and basically trying to pretend she is an orderly, tidy person. (Sadly, my mother wouldn't buy that routine if it were on clearance at Neiman Marcus.) Abby can't believe Neela didn't tell her parents about the shenanigans with the internship. Neela says she was waiting for the right time, and she hadn't chosen yet between "Hell's first blizzard" and "the tenth of Never." She rants that her department head in Michigan ratted her out when her parents called, and she distractedly puts a bunch of dirty dishes in the rack as Abby watches with wry amusement. Neela announces that she's completely screwed. Which is inaccurate -- if she were getting laid, she'd probably be way less uptight about her life. Damn you, Gallant. Then Abby coughs up the most incongruous statement ever, and that's up against some stiff competition on a show in which character continuity takes a backseat to whatever the stoned monkeys can type: she says, "They're just your parents!" This from a woman whose relationship with her mother could stress out Siddhartha. As Neela buzzes around chucking bedding and laundry into Abby's room, making a general mess of things, and overdramatizing the dire straits down which she is punting, Abby sweetly tucks back a strand of her friend's hair and asks how long Neela will need the couch. A knock on the door interrupts this tender moment of mutual inconsideration. Neela answers the door and plasters on a happy grin. "Mum, Dad, you remember Abby," she says.
Carter waits pensively for an ambulance, dark circles ringing his eyes. He looks horrible, and an approaching Luka very genially says as much. Carter cracks a lame joke about how the late-night TV was too good to sleep though, but his tortured soul speaks louder than his words. ...Actually, no, his pasty skin and eye bags do the talking, but I was just trying not to rag on Noah Wyle's face. I have failed. Carter and Luka exposit that Chen is okay and entering physical therapy, and that Pratt has been chomping at the bit to return to work despite not even having his stitches out yet. The conversation about two characters that mean nothing to me is interrupted by the arrival of a patient in an ambulance who means nothing to me. I'm not sure in which direction I'd rather they went. Carter goes to Kyle Skinner, a twenty-three-year-old whose face is swaddled in bandages. His mother climbs out of the rig and exposits that he's suffered bad headaches since getting his skin grafts. Apparently Kyle was a hemmit driver near Fallujah, and...well, to put it gracefully, shit got hairy.
Inside, they lift Kyle onto a bed and Sam, Carter, and Shane West begin the examination. Shane West has been such an afterthought that I keep forgetting to call him by his character name, which is Ray. He's just Shane West in scrubs. This so-called Ray deduces that the kid has meningitis. When Sam unwraps Kyle's bandages, she sees a massive skin infection, and alerts Carter, who very considerately masks his shock and sorrow by gulping really hard, widening his eyes, and recoiling lightly. Carter orders up a bunch of tests, to which Kyle responds by rolling over and vomiting something thick and orange. It's a bit early for pumpkin pie puke to be befouling the comet...maybe it was carrots. Sam looks put-out, as if the kid's projectile present was delivered to her shoes.
Abby frantically roots through medical supplies and triumphantly produces a throat swab, whining to Weaver that it took her five minutes to find it. Weaver prods her into revealing that she's also slated to do an Ace wrap on a sprained ankle, then levels Abby with the analysis that she's doing too much for people and needs to learn to delegate to the med students and the nurses: "You can't be efficient if you get hung up on doing jobs others can do." That is so true, Mom, and that's totally why I haven't made my bed. Or ironed those t-shirts I washed last weekend. "Your job is to treat patients, not wrap ankles or go on treasure hunts for throat swabs." I don't know if I'd call it a treasure hunt -- not many of those, in my experience, end with gagging. But maybe I'm hanging out with the wrong people.
Sam chases Abby and tells her that her med student made an order that Abby needs to co-sign. What with all the Rasgotra hijinks of the morning, Abby clearly didn't have time to read her Tribune, so this headline is news indeed. "Penny Nicholson," the student says cheerfully. "Dr. Weaver told me I'd be shadowing you today." Abby marvels that, just a week ago, people had to co-sign her orders. That reminds me of the most unsettling joke I've ever heard: "What do you call a doctor who graduates last in his class? ...A doctor." And also probably Malarkey. "Nice to be the boss, huh?" Sam grins.
Ray drifts past and asks Sam to prep and drape a patient for sutures, and she assents. Abby asks her to swab her patient's throat when she's done. "Fine," huffs Sam, totally unnecessarily. Abby catches this. "Something the matter?" she asks. Sam whines that she's really busy -- no, wait, her wording is, "I'm getting slammed here" -- because apparently one order from Ray suddenly makes her so swamped that an alligator just brushed past her calf. "In the time it took you to wait and ask me to do it, you could've swabbed him yourself," Sam complains. Yeah, but it's not her job any more, bitchface. Haleh swoops in imperiously, beats back a circling gator with the force of her stare, and offers to do the swab. Abby thanks her, and then rather awkwardly tells Haleh that she was off a decimal point on some dopamine she set up for an IV. Haleh snaps her head up, and if the look she had on her face before could freeze water, this one could singlehandedly halt global warming. "Excuse me?" she says. Abby fumbles that the IV was running at three ccs instead of at thirty, and maybe Haleh should just double check, and wow, Haleh's fist looks really eager to double-check the firmness of Abby's jaw bone. "You need to double-check the concentration before you start messing with the IV pump," Haleh says. "I mixed it ten-to-one." Abby blinks. She thought they mixed it one-to-one. "No, you always mix it one-to-one," Haleh says. Abby is embarrassed and apologizes. Haleh curtly says she'll go turn it back down before the patient's blood pressure spikes, leaving Abby looking desperately like she's eating toenail soufflé and hating it. "You know, nurses really are the backbone of a place like this," Penny pipes up helpfully. "It's good to get on their good side." Abby stares at her and bites back the bile, instead saying, "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind." Penny nods, proud of herself for being so clever.
Neela's father wears a groove in the linoleum while Neela and her mother sip coffee. "So when are you going to tell us what's going on?" he blurts. "Ajay, relax," Neela's mother says. So he sits down and has a sip of java. They are silent. Then Neela finally admits that she isn't sure she wants to be a doctor, and if this were a David E. Kelley show, there would be a record scratch right here. And then probably a dancing baby doing the Charleston on her father's bald head. There aren't many times I praise the heavens that this show's producers are who they are, but this is one of them. Neela says she's not sure she's good at being a doctor. "Of course you are, you're good at everything!" gapes her mother. Hee. Ajay is ranting about the Nobel Prize he's now never going to see on his mantel. "Why does she want to punish us?" he sputters. Neela insists that she's not trying to punish them: "I'm just trying to figure some things out." Her father's flummoxed that the family's analytical mind is stalling. They bicker about whether it's childish or not if you don't know where your life is going, and Neela stalks into the living room to frown. Sensing that belittling their daughter isn't doing much good, Mrs. Rasgotra decides to gas up the Guiltmobile and go for a little drive. "What about your brothers and sisters?" she asks. "Don't you think they want to go to university too?" Neela swallows hard; she now knows she has to turn down the Michigan internship, because there's a position available in Guilt City, Guiltkansas. Ajay says they don't make enough at the restaurant to pay for another education, and as much as it sucks that they're pressuring Neela, they do have a point -- med school isn't cheap, and neither was her Yale undergraduate education. That's eight years of costly school for which they scrimped and saved. You have to figure that Neela could've muddled through the internship to make a bit of money until she actually came up with another plan. Except then the show would have to write her out, so whatever. Neela is brusque with her concerned parents, saying they'll just have to wait until her ass undergoes a head-ectomy. "Is that what you're going to tell them -- that their futures have to wait because their sister is not sure what she wants her life to be?" rages Ajay. Neela insists that she's going to talk to her supervisor at County to see if she can get some interim work. She is fiercely pissed at her parents.
As Abby trots off on rounds with Penny, Malik gruffly hands her some lab results and adds an extra-snotty cadence to the words, "Dr. Lockhart." He growls, "I heard what you did." Abby blinks. Chuny stomps over and gives her a grouchy report on two patients. "Et tu, Chuny?" Abby says quietly. Chuny remains officious with her. "What, now I'm the bane of all nurses?" Abby sighs, exasperated. I feel for her. I highly doubt that Abby's transgression with Haleh is the worst these people have ever seen from a doctor; Chuny, in particular, should be glad Abby didn't instead sleep with her and then dump her like a trash bag. They all strike me as deliberately making it hard for Abby to transition from being one of the gang to having to delegate to the gang.
Bland new resident Howard hands Abby some films on a girl who won't let him look at her injured arm because she doesn't want him touching her. Abby enters the exam room, where a Latina introduces herself as the girl's aunt; the girl is Marta, she's teenaged, and she looks a bit lost in addition to clutching at her arm and wincing. Abby cheerfully twists a sheet into a long rope-like shape and tells Marta -- who "doesn't speak English," according to Haleh -- in weak Spanish that she wants to help her. Then Abby orders two drugs: versed and fentanyl. Haleh cocks a brow. "You sure you want to use both?" she asks passive-aggressively. Shut up, Haleh. That's so unprofessional to do in front of Howard and Penny, much less in front of a patient and her aunt, neither of whom needs to see the doctor's decision being questioned so snottily and publicly. "Yes I am," Abby sing-songs. Haleh presses that she thinks versed would be enough. Abby disagrees. Both of them need to put a clam in it. So what does Howard do? Howard sides with Haleh and says that the fentanyl seems unnecessary. "That was my analysis," Haleh says casually. And even if Haleh's right, she could assert herself without being a complete bitch. This hospital is full of high-schoolers, and it's because the show has a knack for ruining even the likable characters. I'd respect Haleh so much more if she handled this like a woman and not like a teenager. "Listen, team," Abby says pointedly. "We're shoving a bone back into its socket. If it were you, you'd want all the pain meds in the hospital." I guess all the meds have been pushed by this point, because the thing Abby does is use her sheet to create leverage as she relocates Marta's arm. "Cooooool," Penny breathes. Haleh just frowns at the world. Marta's aunt is in a hurry to leave now that Marta is all fixed, but Abby notices a big, deep cut on the girl's shoulder, and it gives her pause. "We should clean that out," she says.
Kyle. Carter is giving him a spinal tap; he thinks what happened is that the kid got a sinus infection that spread to his brain. Oh my God. Sinus infections can do that?!? This show is bad for hypochondriacs. BAD. Carter pulls some cloudy fluid and sends Sam up to the lab to watch over it as it's tested. Hmm. Thought she was so slammed. Carter helps Kyle get settled on his bed and advises him to sleep. "Can't sleep," Kyle says. Carter tries to convince him to try, but Kyle says that nothing helps. "In my dreams, I'm still the guy I used to be," Kyle says sadly. "But I always wake up." I'm sure there are some pills he can try. Carter looks at him emptily as the scar tissue on Kyle's face morphs into the shape of an anvil. Hope they have a salve for that.
Abby, Howard, and Penny scramble through Marta's paperwork to see if there's any more information about her. Unsurprisingly, there is none. Abby begins to open the door and hears Marta's aunt immediately saying, "She's better, now we go." Abby whispers to Penny to get a guard over there. Then she enters the room as calmly as she can and completely ignores the aunt, who is barking at her to let them leave. She leans down to begin an examination. "Hermanos?" she asks Marta, grinning. "Sisters," Marta says slowly. "Three." Abby points to the cut, and the aunt interjects that the girls play crazy sometimes. This woman is the least convincing liar in the world. Malarkey could out-lie her, and he's a raving idiot. Abby notices bruises and possibly burn marks on Marta's back, and as Marta tries not to react, Abby orders her to remove her pants for the complete examination. Here, the aunt explodes and drags Marta out of the room by her arm. Ouch. "We don't have time!" screams the aunt. Abby yells for the guards to stop them; they corral the aunt, but Marta runs. Abby gives chase, but it doesn't matter, because Marta hit a dead end, and collapses onto the stairwell in an effort to scramble away from Abby. "I don't want you to touch me, slut, puta!" Marta screams. "Tranquila," Abby urges her. "I'm not going to hurt you! I'm not going to hurt you." Marta cries quietly, and we fade to black sort of feeling like we're leaving in the middle of a thought.
When we return, Weaver is talking to Shane West -- um, "Ray" -- about his clothing. It's curious that they left in this scene after excising just about any other in which we actually see Ray wearing anything but a lab coat. Shane West must be sucking it up like a colonic. I heard he's having trouble with the medical jargon. Hey, TPTB -- it's called an audition, ratmonkeys. Febreze the casting couch and get out and do it right time. Anyway, Ray is wearing a CBGBs shirt as Weaver tells him that his whole look is creating discomfort. "For patients, or other doctors?" he asks. "It's the jewelry, isn't it?" Weaver shrugs. "Nah," she says. Good, because...what jewelry? "Fingernails, tattoo, hair?" he asks, holding up his jet-black manicure. "It's the whole package," she says. Ray tells her that he'll ask his bandmates if he can pull up on the bad-ass rock image for now, and as he walks away, Weaver is wearing what can only be called an affectionately amused smile. What? What have we missed? She doesn't smile at anybody that way. There are some who think it can't even be done. Also, for the record, I don't care about Ray. I love how much cash the show has probably wasted on him, only to use him in the compelling and historic "His Manicure Was His Downfall" scene. Incidentally, too, almost all he's done so far is (a) flirt with Weaver, and (b) make Weaver smile, as we see here. If they have him try to turn her, then by God, I will sit back and watch and yell a lot. Mark my words.
There's a stupid, clunky transition involving an eavesdropping Carter and a bad Ozzy Osbourne joke, and then we get right into the meat of the scene: Weaver asks Carter if Kem got home okay, and if he's heard from her. "Email," he says shortly. "She and I are taking a little time...how's Henry?" he says, changing the subject midstream as best he can. Weaver shoots him a soft smile of understanding (wow, that's two in a row) and says simply and without inconsideration, "Pretty great." She thanks him for asking and they part.
Jerry greets Neela and draws out of her that her parents are waiting across the street while she seeks Weaver. Nothing like job-hunting under the gun. Neela asks Carter if he's seen Weaver, and then pauses to ask how he's doing. "Nice to see you, Neela," Carter says pointedly.
Suddenly, a patient goes crazy. I know, I know, it's hard to imagine that sort of thing happening on ER, especially when there isn't some kind of prop du jour that's being showcased. Oh, wait, sorry, there is: a bedpan. As Carter walks over to calm her, the woman whirls and smacks him clean on the face with a bedpan, and he drops. And it's absolutely hilarious, but only because this woman is acting out my fantasy. I actually let out a cheer. So remember this, guys: if you find yourself somehow, inexplicably, without a handgun or a tank, a bedpan can be a nice substitute for your insane rampage. Carter tackles the woman as she screams, "I AM THE SOLUTION!" And she is. If she went around and took a bedpan to the heads of every cast member on this show, and a couple of the behind-the-scenes types as well, a few things might get fixed pronto. Then she'd get a t-shirt that says "The last competent crazy in Chicago."
Neela asks for a moment with Weaver and tells her she quit her internship. But Weaver already knows; it seems the Michigan department head called to see if they'd noticed any psychiatric problems in Neela during her time there. "I lied," Weaver says. What? Aside from claustrophobia, what is she talking about? Or did she say that yes, she did see mental instability in Neela? I'm confused. Neela blubbers that she didn't want to be in Michigan and she isn't even sure she wants to be a doctor...but could Weaver give her a job? The look on Weaver's face is as if Neela just declared herself a reformed cannibal and begged for a job in a butcher shop. Neela begs for any kind of job until she refocuses. "But you don't want to be a doctor," Weaver says slowly. She gets into the elevator and shakes her head tiredly and in what I feel is deliberate obtuseness. Neela insists that she'll do anything -- stock shelves or be a candy striper -- but Weaver just tells her to go back to Michigan before it's too late. I'm pretty sure it already is; I don't know many people who would keep a position open that long on the off-chance that the person decides that being a dermatologist is not, in fact, as enjoyable as peeling off her own skin layer by layer. Although I guess that would mean she could treat herself.
Abby gently dresses Marta's wounds. "Quiero mamacita," whimpers Marta. "Your aunt has to answer some questions," Abby says. Then she asks if the woman is "mamacita," or her aunt, as she claimed. Marta gingerly admits that the woman isn't any relation at all. "She keeps us," she says. "Who -- you and your sisters?" Abby frowns. "Not sisters," Marta sniffles. "Only girls." Abby wants to know more, and lets the girl know that she's safe now and can feel comfortable sharing her secrets. "Who's hurting you?" Abby asks. "Marta, who hurts you?" Marta's lip trembles. "Los hombres," she finally confesses.
Jerry hands Carter a folder containing Kyle's military medical records. Carter opens it and sees a photo of a healthy Kyle, and then looks over at the sick and scarred Kyle and blows out his cheeks in that very Carter way -- the one where you know he's all, "Man, the vagaries of life are very taxing to me. I HAVE SEEN SO MUCH."
Sam sits outside clasping a cup of coffee. Luka plops down to her and they marinate in an awkward silence for a while before throwing it on the Foreman grill and cooking it up nice and juicy. "I wasn't trying to be a hero this morning," he says. "I asked you to move in because I...I love you." Sam sniffs something she likes and looks at him in surprise, then growing awe. "I'm in love with you, and I thought...I don't know, maybe you feel the same...?" Luka says uncomfortably, and kind of adorably. I do feel the same, Luka. And Sam and I have very similar hair. So dump the one with the kid, come find me, and we'll go bowling. Or, you know, to Europe. Whichever. Sam is staring at him with widened eyes, a smile of disbelief spreading on her face. "Did you just say that?" she wonders. "I've spent too much time wasting time," Luka avers. "So when you're ready, let me know." Sam continues to stare at him, adoration creeping into her eyes. A man pulls up in a pickup truck and it breaks their rapport for a second, but Sam then turns back and loses herself in Luka again, and it's clear she's completely incredulous that someone relatively functional wants to be with her in all her dysfunctional glory.
Pickup Truck Man wails that they need to help him -- they had an incident at the aquarium during a tank cleaning. Sam and Luka hurry over to the flatbed and see a man with a two-foot, maybe three-foot shark hanging off his calf. "It's a nurse shark," PTM says. Yes, and it's nursing right now -- suckling away at the flesh on Stupid Tank Cleaner's leg. "It's important neither Mr. Fahey nor the shark be damaged in any way." The shark flaps its tail as they order the poor, eaten Mr. Fahey to spritz more water on the beloved fish to keep it alive. Sweet, gentle carnivore, long may you wiggle and clench.
Abby asks Chuny for help getting a patient history. Chuny snots that last she checked, that was a doctor's job. God, I hate these people. Is it a doctor's job to bitch-slap annoying people? Because that would be a really handy privilege right now. Abby thinks to explain that she needs the help because her Spanish is insufficient. Chuny immediately softens and asks if this is the girl who came in with her aunt. "Not her aunt," Abby says. Chuny promises to be there; the foundation for the clumsy repair of their rift is in place.
Stupid Tank Cleaner is wheeled in as everyone frets about the health of the shark. These people add up to be the Roy Horn of the fish-loving world. As Sam pokes at the skin around the bite, Howard rounds a corner and runs right into her, knocking over her tray and sending Stupid Tank Cleaner onto the floor. Monticore the Shark starts chomping away merrily on all that delicious leg fat. This is the last we see of this stunt patient -- maybe we're supposed to think this is a happy ending. The man's leg downsizes and the shark gets fed and grows up to be a hardy and strong nurse shark. Everybody wins, except for people like me who hate, hate, hate sharks.
But there is a funny cut here: We smash from the gobbling shark to ketchup plopping onto a plate with that special, inglorious noise. Neela and her parents are grabbing a bite to eat at the convenience store across the street, and her father is questioning why she doesn't want to be a skin doctor and make piles and piles of sweet, sweet cash. The show takes great pains to have an Indian man serve them so that Neela's father can say, "What do you want -- to be like this man here?" Neela says for the bajillionth time that she doesn't know what she wants, and that is the whole point of this excruciating exercise. "I've heard enough," Ajay says. Yes, so have I. Thank you. Mrs. Rasgotra pipes up to order Ajay to find them a cab. Ajay stands up and announces that they will collect Neela's things, rent a car, and drive her to Michigan. Doesn't Neela already have a car? Why can't she drive them? Ah, I see -- no corporate sponsorship in this episode. Maybe Chrysler was unhappy that Buick won their head-to-head battle in the premiere, and yanked its support.
Neela figures that this is a moment of bonding with her mother, wherein they can roll their eyes at what a stubborn oaf her father is. Neela is wrong. "You think he doesn't get it?" her mother hisses. "You're the one who doesn't." Irritated that nobody is giving her cuddly hugs, Neela flips the script and decides that she doesn't want to hear this from her mother. Mrs. Rasgotra -- why didn't she get a name? -- goes off on a predictable monologue about how she had hopes and dreams of her own, but she married her father and their life became running a curry house in Southall. Oops, Mrs. Rasgotra -- you want Desperate Housewives. Head straight for Lost and make a left. Neela explains that she just wants to find her own path, but her mother doesn't think that passing up a big opportunity like this is the way to do it. "I've worked hard for it," Neela points out. "So have we all," her mother says. Oooh, score one for her. We have a tie. And nothing breaks a tie better than a little childhood story about a musical instrument -- usually one that either got stuck in a closet after one use, or one that suppressed or repressed personal growth. Neela chooses the latter, because I guess nobody puts the viola in the closet. "When I was a girl I had to learn to play the sheet music and play it perfectly," she begins. "I was never allowed to play what I wanted." Her mother tsks that Neela wanted to play rock music. Oh, what I would give to hear some '80s hair metal played on a viola. Neela bristles that her point is, she never got to improvise or be creative. And that leads to my favorite line ever: "You can't improvise the viola!" I don't know why that's so brilliant, but it is brilliant. "You can try," argues Neela. Her mother misses the point completely and thinks Neela wants to be a musician. "No, Mum. I want to improvise," Neela says, exasperated.
Marta tells her full story to Abby and Chuny, using a surprisingly heavy amount of English when you consider that she supposedly doesn't speak it. Apparently, when Marta was twelve, she was kidnapped at a bus stop in Mexico, long enough ago that she has no concept of how old she is now. (She looks about fifteen.) She got dumped in a room with a bunch of other girls and "they" made her "damage girl." I don't know if that means the other girls exist to beat her up and rape her, or if it's the man who does it, but either way, it's messed up and she's traumatized. Abby asks when the last time was that she spoke to her family. "Long time ago," Marta says sadly. In Spanish, she says she snuck off once to call and say that she was okay but didn't know when she was coming home. Abby and Chuny look affected as Marta starts to cry. "Marta, we're going to help you now, all right?" Abby says. Then Marta admits her name isn't actually Marta. Her real name is Tesoro, which means "treasure" in Spanish, and which is an awfully precious choice made here by the show -- meaning she is, in turn, both treasure and damaged goods.
Neela's father has hailed a taxi, but to his surprise, his wife insists that they're not taking Neela to Michigan. "I love you, Mum," Neela says, kissing her mother goodbye. Before her reluctant father leaves, he tells Neela that they can't help support her any longer. She promises to send money when she finds a job. "When you were little, you always said you dreamed of being a bird and flying far away," Ajay says, and like most people, my first reaction was to think of that scene from Forrest Gump; I guess if they took anything from that movie, better this than any scene in which our poor soldier Gallant is inserted into a presidential handshake line and is shown saying that he has to pee. "You've finally done it, haven't you?" Ajay muses, leaving without a hug or even a heartfelt word. We fade to black on Neela being left completely alone, thinking that she looks totally fabulous in her isolation, and wishing we could all wear loneliness so well.
Penny, through telephonic shenanigans too boring to detail, has located Tesoro's family's phone number. Abby, pleased, then bumps into the investigator who is interviewing Tesoro's faux-aunt, who is claiming she's a victim of a roving group of pimps who steal kids and set them up in houses in which to be abused. Apparently they're searching the aunt's house to rescue the other girls and place them in foster care. "[Tesoro] needs to go home to her family," Abby says. "Yeah," the guys says lamely. Okay then.
Neela really needs to find other places to mope. She spends most of her time now pouting through the halls of County; for someone who doesn't want to be a doctor, she's having an awfully hard time cutting the cord. Although NICU was her worst rotation. Abby finds her and asks where her parents are. "Are you crying?" she asks suddenly. Neela wipes her eyes. Aw. Abby apologizes and promises to talk to her at 8 when she gets off. "I'll wait," Neela says glumly. "For three hours?" Abby asks. "I have nothing better to do," Neela shrugs pathetically. Not even...looking for a job? She's doing a lot of wallowing. That can't be healthy, and Abby's probably the wrong person to talk to if you want to stop wallowing, because back in the day she was the world champion wallower. If you wanted to see an emotional rut in action, you had but to turn on the TV.
Abby checks up on Tesoro, who is confused about what happens now. Abby shrugs that she might be able to go back to Mexico. "They don't love me, they don't want me," Tesoro says by rote, as if programmed to believe it. "Of course, they do," Abby says. She brandishes their phone number and dials it even though Tesoro is terrified that her family won't remember her. Sure enough, when Abby muddles through the greeting, the family remembers her and wants to talk to her. Abby hands off the phone and watches, touched, as Tesoro begins to sob and weep, "Te amo, mami."
Carter asks Kyle if he slept. "What do you think?" snorts Kyle. Carter found out that Kyle refused surgery to touch up his cheek implant. "A drop in the ocean, right?" Kyle says. "Whatever." Carter gives up and walks away, so Kyle shouts out, "You a Democrat?" Carter turns and says that he is, most of the time. "People rag on this war," Kyle says. "I say it was a good thing. Gave a lot of people their freedom." Carter pauses. "It's good that you feel that way," he condescends. Ew. There's just something about that, like, "Well, isn't that nice for you." Kyle bitterly spits, "Where the hell would I be if I didn't?" And of course, this all comes around to being about a woman. Carter reveals that he found out Kyle got engaged, and apparently, Kyle dumped his fiancée Karen by not letting her see him in Bethesda. Carter talks the talk about how she wouldn't give up on him that easily, and Kyle spews the all the requisite bitterness about how even good people sometimes don't like skin grafts. "Maybe in a few years I won't think about her anymore," Kyle decides. Carter looks sad for him, and sad for himself, because he's always hoping that in a few years he won't be thinking about some girl or other anymore.
Malik, Sam, Jerry, and Luka are cracking wise about the nurse shark, the only amusing line being Luka suggesting that they have a few of them working at the hospital. And he would know, because most of them have circled him. And then he speared them. Carter grows impatient with their mirth, because his soul is crying and his water weight isn't receding and he really just wants to go home and snuggle with one of Gamma's old dresses. "Nobody has any work to do today, huh?" he smaps. The group's smiles freeze in place, and then quickly disappear as they disperse and go about their work.
Everyone, that is, but Luka. He stares at Carter with concern, and offers to look at his head. I'm surprised Carter doesn't have a more obvious bruise or lump on his head after Bedpan Bonanza 2004. I didn't realize his skull could so easily combat a speeding metal bowl. Luka looks Carter deep in the eyes and more or less orders him to go home. After some half-hearted denials, Carter nods hollowly and walks away.
Abby and Luka hit the ambulance bay for two incoming traumas. One is a nineteen-year-old who looks about thirty and was attacked in Grant Park. "They hurt us," he mumbles. "Who hurt you, honey?" Haleh asks. "They hit us with a tire jack," the guy says. Well, now, that's no excuse for ignoring her question, kid. Sheesh. The kid pleads with them to help his boyfriend Zach first. Luka goes to Zach, who took some lumps to the head and torso. An emaciated blond kid flits around in a tizzy whimpering about whether his friends will be okay. He literally hops over to one of the gurneys while flapping his arms. Is this how we direct actors guys to play gay nowadays? "Oh, just flail a lot -- you're light as a bird, so flap those wrists!" Disgraceful. Flapper tizzies that they were all sitting in the grove, and that he'd never been there before, and then four guys came out of nowhere and starting beating the crap out of his two friends. "IT WAS BECAUSE THEY WERE KISSIIIIIIING," he drawl-moans plaintively, clearly unaware that this is not the General Hospital set. I'm surprised he didn't just drop to his knees and shake his fists at the heavens. Nobody else seems bothered by this melodramatic exposition -- well, nobody except Zach, who immediately rolls over and horks up some blood. Now that's a bad performance review: "Inspired me...to barf up an aorta." Luka assigns himself Zach and sends Abby and Haleh off with the first guy. "This guy's less critical..." Abby begins. "Just go," Luka orders her.
In Trauma Yellow, Abby's patient is causing all sorts of machinery to beep themselves awake. His heart rate is plunging. Abby tries to quiz Penny throughout, although she's also scrambling to try and stop the blood loss. Sam enters in search of some blankets and thoughtfully stops to ask if they need any help. "Lost his pulse," Abby shouts. "Starting compressions." She asks Sam to get Luka.
In Trauma Green, Flapper skips around announcing to his conscious friend that he got a good look at their attackers. "The grove always seemed safe," rasps Zach, with more overacting than I can properly convey in text. Aloud, it sounded like they're gay spies. He's not allowed to have any more lines, though, because they have to intubate, so I guess it's good that Zach milked that one like the melodramatic cow it was. Luka tells Sam he can't help Abby because Zach needs the attention, and sure enough, he passes out on cue. They decide to send him up to the OR. "The surgeons, they'll stop the bleeding, that's what you said, right?" Flapper wails. "They'll do what they can," Sam attempts. This sends Flapper into a complete hissyfit, because he was just talking to Zach, and clearly anything that talks is healthy. He clearly hasn't met...well, half the staff of this hospital, really. And then, as they page Corday for a consult, Flapper summons all the bile his body can muster and delivers the painfully predictable conclusion, "YOU CAN'T JUST KILL PEOPLE FOR KISSING IN THE PARK." Oh. Are you sure? Shoot, there goes my Saturday. This storyline is already irritatingly affected. They are all trying so very, very hard with it. You wouldn't think something as awful as a gay-bashing would require this much overwrought writing and overacting, because the emotion would seem to create itself. Alas.
And so Flapper flails and flaps his way into Trauma Yellow, as Sam gives half-hearted chase -- she doesn't want to get clipped by a runaway limb, after all. "What's happening?" Flapper demands. Penny is doing compressions and they're pushing all kinds of shit into the guy's body; Penny is tired, so Abby takes over the CPR. Under her breath, Abby runs a checklist of everything to make sure she's done all she can. "Thoracotomy?" she asks suddenly. "Not with blunt trauma," Haleh answers. They all stare at Abby and the kid as she pumps away on his sternum. "Would putting in a central line make a difference at this point?" she asks. No one answers. She tries to demand responses out of all the nurses present, but no one knows what to say. "If anybody has an opinion please speak up," Abby says desperately. "It's your call, Abby," Haleh says finally. "You're the doctor." Abby frowns at everything.
Carter shuffles brokenly into Ike Ryan's. At least, I assume that's what it is. The bartender recognizes him and offers to get him an iced coffee and a BLT, per usual, right away. But as the camera pushes slowly on Carter, we notice that the bartender doesn't, in fact, move at all. "Maybe something else today," Carter says, his voice husky. We fade to black wondering if this is a restaurant-slash-brothel.
Abby's patient has been out cold for forty-two minutes. There is beeping. She asks Flapper if he'd like to move into the spotlight and deliver any touching words that might net him another acting job. Flapper steps forward into a beam of angelic light, and sappy music swells behind him as he begins his monologue. First he theatrically rests his palm on his dead buddy's chest. "Thank you," he whispers, a sappy smile on his face. "You made me strong. Helped me see who I was." Flapper makes himself glow with what he imagines is grace of spirit. "And...to know that it was okay," he concludes. His face shines with the importance of his statement. The friend responds by dying. Abby stares at her ex-patient's face as Sam carts Flapper off to give a statement to the police. The camera stays on Abby but Flapper seems intent on milking this storyline for all the meaning he can give it. So, off-camera, we hear him say, "I didn't know I was gay until they became my friends." Abby pouts, and Flapper has flapped his wings for the last time. Thank God. That kid was a massive overactor.
Rather than clean up her corpse, Abby flounces into Trauma Green to complain to Luka. "My guy died," she spits. "Can you throw in a femoral line?" Luka asks her, ignoring the sympathy play. Abby scowls at him and brats that she could've used a little help in there. Leaving Zach to be treated by whom? Sam? An animate scalpel? A particularly audacious set of paddles? Abby steps into Luka's trauma and notes muffled heart sounds. They hand her a pericardiocentesis needle. "Angle the needle," Luka says. "I know," Abby grouches. Okay, fine, Little Miss I Just Killed My Patient. time don't come in whingeing about the sad dead man who could've benefited from someone else's aid. Abby here does a fine job and Zach's pulse returns. "Good job, Abby," Chuny says, putting in place the final brick in their bridge to reconciliation. Yawn. That was quick. Come to think of it, Luka probably said the same thing to her after they slept together. (Rimshot!)
Elizabeth makes her token appearance to cart the kid up to the OR. Wow, they really are not throwing Alex Kingston any bones before she takes off, are they? As they wheel Zach away, Abby and Luka are left to rip off their gloves and heave huge sighs. "You left me alone in there," she accuses. Luka apparently has to explain to Abby the whole concept of "two patients, two doctors, too obvious." Abby bitches that a week ago she had to get approval for everything she did, and now she's suddenly autonomous. Life's a bitch, Abby. That's why you took licensing boards. (Twice.) Luka shrugs, "Welcome to internship." Abby rants that she was tentative and asking the nurses for advice. "They respect that openness," Luka says. "No they don't," Abby spits. "You always did," he levels her. Abby wails that the kid is dead and she doesn't think he had the best possible care. Will Abby ever win? She's Ziggy in her own mind, I swear. Luka finally spins around and says that, yeah, they gave the best possible care to the one they thought they could save, and the second best care to Abby's guy. This rubs her the wrong way as well -- she goes from thinking she's the worst doctor in history to bristling that she was set up to fail. "No, HE never had a chance," Luka says. "You'll have another one sooner than you want -- fifteen minutes, an hour, tomorrow maybe." Abby sulks in the wake of this honesty. I'm surprised she never stopped to consider how they assign traumas.
Luka pours Carter a steaming cup of coffee. "I don't know what happened," Carter says tiredly. "I thought it would help somehow." Luka is sympathetic and calm. "What else is going on?" Luka presses him gently. Carter lies that everything is fine. "You looked bad all day. I wasn't the only one who noticed," Luka says. Carter is reluctant to open up, but Luka reminds Carter that he can be trusted. After a pause, Carter chokes that he is having trouble sleeping. "I keep having these dreams," he begins, and then bites back a sob. "I miss her," he admits. "And I miss the baby." Luka gives him a scorching hot look of understanding. "I miss all the stuff I thought we were going to have, and I don't know how to get any of it back," Carter finishes. Luka clearly feels this, and may I say that his empathy is sexy, sexy, sexy.
Neela escorts Tesoro to the steps of the train station and then explains to the girl -- whom we have already established cannot regularly communicate in English -- that all she has to do is hop the train to L.A., then change for San Diego, then catch a bus to Mexico. Neela hands her an envelope with two-hundred dollars in it. "You need to get on that train," Neela urges her. "No sé como," Tesoro whimpers. She's afraid. Neela stupidly tries to tell her what to do by repeating it a bit slower, and using different words. Neela should go on The Amazing Race with those skills. Tesoro insists that she can't go it alone, and Neela heaves a sigh.
The CPS lady irritatedly asks Abby where Tesoro is. Abby lies badly that she couldn't find the girl, and thinks she fled. The CPS lady exits grumbling about the bad security at the hospital. "We say that every year," Abby says delightedly.
Carter shuffles out of the lounge. "Hi," she smiles at him. "I lost my cell phone," he says. Abby promptly produces it from her pocket. Then she lightly asks him if he wants to go to a meeting with her at St. John's. Carter cuts her off gently by refusing, insisting it was just a small slip. Then he has the grace to admit that, after all the crap he gave Abby, this makes him a hypocrite. But instead of spitting "Yeah, take that, bloatrag," she instead smiles and shrugs that really, they're all hypocrites. That's...sort of accepting the apology, I guess.
As Luka leaves, Sam chases him outside and runs up to him awkwardly. She pauses, and then says, "Uh, you know what you said earlier? Over in the steps?" He nods. "Me too," she admits, staring at the ground. Luka smiles. This seems very in character for Sam -- she has stated that she has trouble trusting people, so I buy that she has trouble knowing how to say gracefully to somebody that she loves him. I think it's obvious she's scared but delighted, and is doing the best she can. "So, come on by later, and I'll make you some eggs," she beams at him. Then, as they turn to part company, she whirls back around and runs up to him and throws herself into his arms; they spin and kiss, and it's pretty cute. That will always be, in my mind, a very romantic thing to do -- throwing yourself into his arms, and having him sweep you up and kiss you. Mmm.
Norah Jones chooses this moment to pipe up and sing, which means somebody is at an emotional crossroads. Carter takes one last look at Kyle's records, meets the kid's eye as he leaves, swaps a repellently knowing nod with the kid, and then picks up his cell. He dials. "Kem," he says to her machine. "I know you're sleeping, but I just wanted to hear your voice."
Tesoro sleeps with her head on Neela's shoulder as they ride the train to L.A. Poor Neela is stuck there with nothing to read and no control of the left side of her body, so she just stares out the window and hopes that the answer to her life will appear. I just hope she's prepared for some misdirection, because she'll probably see a lot of cows and corn, and I don't want her to think they are the answer.
Abby wordlessly joins Haleh in Trauma Yellow as they wrap up the corpse of the gay-bashed kid. "You know, Haleh," Abby says, clearing her throat, "if there's ever anything you think I'm doing wrong..." Haleh steps in, "You did everything you could, Abby. It was a good code." And just like that, they're fine. I guess Abby's having a crisis of confidence was good enough revenge for Haleh to forget their little altercation? Who knows. Abby lets the relief of this wash over her for a second, but her eyes betray that she's still upset that she couldn't save the boy. Maura Tierney is so, so good at letting ten different feelings cross her face -- even just her eyes -- at one time.