Nothing happens for a few seconds, until the icon for the reactor in Minnesota goes from red to yellow. Now that's a shout-out. Thank you. Lispy Skip can probably write his own ticket at the Nuclear Regulatory Commission now, because whatever he did, it's working. Everyone is terribly relieved. There's no applause on the floor, which is a nice, non-cheesy touch. DaD congratulates Skip again. Driscoll starts to walk off the floor. DaD steps in front of her and says, "Great work, Erin." She thanks him stiffly and excuses herself. He looks after her, thinking, Women.
She walks on to the clinic, breaking into a run just before getting there at 5:58:12. It's quiet in DrisKid's room, where the medical staff is standing around staring down at her body on the bathroom floor. Nice work, guys. DrisKid has slashed her wrists. She cut them lengthwise, which I'm kind of surprised they showed. As if to make up for it, there's not all that much blood on the floor around her. Driscoll is grief-stricken. After sitting impatiently through this subplot all this time, it has at last elicited an emotional reaction from me. And that reaction is, finally. The whole thing is just ridiculous. She went from "well enough to be left at home alone" to "should have been on suicide watch" in one day? ["And she bled to death in six minutes? Even a school nurse could have held her together long enough to call an ambulance. I can't enjoy the demise of a character I loathed because the execution is such horseshit." -- Sars] We could sit and point fingers at Driscoll, or the CTU medical staff, or DrisKid's absent (if indeed extant) father, other relatives, or friends, but I think we all know who to blame for this, writers.
Time for one last splitscreen party. DaD tells the President, "It's over, sir. We've stopped the meltdown." The camera pans around DrisKid's bathroom to show that she broke a mirror to obtain her suicide weapon. The Prez and his staff congratulate each other on board Air Force One, no doubt looking forward to once again standing on floors that don't move. CTU agents pour into the lobby of the Rocklyn building, accompanied by Grayadder and DoDder. He looks at her while she works hard to look anywhere else. Kiefer continues looking for ImhoTerror. Curtis shuts off the MacGuffin. Did someone tell him to do that? And then he gets killed. No, not really. I don't know why not. I give up.
Kiefer comes across a supine body lying in a doorway. He reports it on a walkie-talkie, and the guy from last week's TerrorHideout advance team answers to say he's on his way up. Kiefer approaches the body, which is stripped to its pants and t-shirt. He tells his walkie talkie that ImhoTerror is now a terrorist in CTU agent's clothing. The other agent gets the call and looks behind him, where, sure enough, ImhoTerror is right there, in uniform. Not much of a disguise, really, since the agent tries immediately to knock him down. But ImhoTerror blocks the blow, holds onto the agent's arm, and puts three bullets into him through the armhole of his bulletproof vest. And ImhoTerror's out. You know, you never realize how Darth Vader-y those CTU helmets are until you see one on somebody evil. It's 6:00:00.