Wendy Whiner catches Kellerman just as he's about to zoom off on his bike. She says he's not going to believe it, and then turns and runs back inside. Kellerman follows.
"Two hearts in one day. How often does that happen?" a freshly scrubbed and suited-up Kellerman says to Whiner. She says she blames him. He asks why. "I saw you on TV. I practically ripped my own heart out on the spot." Me too, Whiner, me too. Oh, she wanted to offer up hers for a transplant. In the OR, they find Joyner standing by herself. Kellerman asks what's going on. Joyner says Farrell's not strong enough, so she passed up the heart and it's now on its way to another hospital. Kellerman and Whiner are incredulous. They insist that Joyner can't know Farrell won't make it off the table. Kellerman points out that if they pass it up, Farrell will probably die before another heart becomes available. "Then it'll go to someone else who needs it," Joyner says. Kellerman gapes at her. "Let it go, Bruce. We're supposed to make medical decisions. Not emotional ones," Joyner says, enjoying this far too much. Whiner asks if she should call organ procurement or not. Kellerman softly tells her that it's okay, she can just go home. And then poor Fichtner is forced to launch this stink bomb: "I just really hate it when you can't save them all, y'know?" "Me, too," Joyner says, patting him on the shoulder. She leaves him standing there.
A moment later, Kellerman is schlumping past the scrub room. Dalgety stops him and invites him to join in on Lumley's surgery. We cut immediately to a close-up of a wide-open torso. Nice. Kellerman's spirits seem to recover in the face of all this blood and guts. The two of them point out everything they still have to do, and Dalgety figures it will be a long night. "Fine by me," says Kellerman. Dalgety agrees. Aw, two dysfunctional workaholics who'd rather cram their fists in a steaming cavity than go home. This friendship has promise.