Kitty meets with Sergeant Cole, the personal-matter guy, and offers him coffee; he declines, and explains that he's retired from the air force, but served with Robert in Gulf I. Kitty offers to set up a "reunion," but Cole says he never had much "face-to-face contact" with Robert, and under the circumstances it's probably best to keep it that way. "Under the... circumstances," Kitty repeats. "I'm not sure I follow." A few snide remarks about Robert's "alleged heroism" later, Cole lays it out for her: he knows what happened during the so-called rescue, and he knows Robert tried to call off the extraction. Kitty huffs that it's beneath the senator's dignity for her to continue this conversation, so she's going to leave, and she rises, pawing through her tote bag in a most undignified way. Cole says coolly that that's fine; he has to be at the L.A. Times in a half hour anyway, and Kitty blurts that, with traffic, he'll never make it, and besides, the L.A. Times doesn't print fiction. She's all pissy and flustered, which just shows Cole he's hit a nerve, and it strikes me that part of Kitty's job description is handling situations and accusations like these -- which presidential candidates must face on a near-hourly basis -- with more aplomb. By which I mean "any aplomb at all." Cole repeats that Robert "was begging his co-pilot" to pull out of the landing zone. Kitty's like, well, it's not like you heard that from the co-pilot, since he's dead, but Cole corrects her that, actually, he did -- he overheard the conversation on the radio from the base. A look of resignation crosses Kitty's face.
At the hospital, the doctor comes in to talk to Tommy and Julia. As Nora fusses nearby, Julia asks about "William," which is evidently what they've named the boy twin; he's on a ventilator to help him breathe until his lungs can develop, and he's "responding well." Tommy is encouraged by this, but the doctor says not so fast; his kidneys are in trouble. Nora asks about the treatment for that, and as the doctor explains that the kind of dialysis they've already tried isn't doing what they'd hoped, we get a shot of Julia looking puffy and hopeless, and then the doctor goes on that their preferred course of action is a more invasive type of dialysis: "We really need to see results soon." Tommy complains that, in the twenty-first century, they should have more options, and actually, they do -- if William's condition worsens, they could consider a transplant. "But he's so tiny," Julia gasps, and the doctor says that it's a very rare procedure, for all the obvious reasons -- the size of the baby, the odds against finding a donor -- "but your son is different," because he has a twin sister who could provide a perfect-match kidney. The Walkers all exchange worried glances at this "good" news.