Abby's working with Weaver to save Jared. Jana sobs that she thought he was in the house, and accidentally backed over him. This is the ideal time for one's boyfriend to tote one's estranged mother to Bring Your Girlfriend's Biggest Irritants To Work Day. Abby responds the way any cool, collected, professional woman would: she drops what she's doing and walks out of Trauma Green. Weaver doesn't seem bothered. Jared, meanwhile, sits up and blows her the last juicy raspberry of his life. Carter enters and picks up where Ms. Me, Myself, And I left off.
Abby holes up in the exam room adjacent to Trauma Green, panting. It's dark. As they struggle to save Jared in Trauma Green, she stares at Maggie and then stares off into space. She's troubled. We fade to black just ever so grateful that Jared's mother is an understanding sort, and will be completely okay that It's Time For My Close-Up: How To Brood The Abby Lockhart Way takes precedence over her dying little tot.
Susan brings Patrick his lab results. She delivers the good news first: his white-cell count us up. But sadly, his metastatic lesions haven't decreased in size. Patrick looks stricken, shaking his head dazedly. "I had two more cycles," he murmurs, incredulous. Susan sadly says that his lesions should have responded to that by now. "Well, at least it's not growing," Patrick brave-little-soldiers. Susan stares at him. "Right?" he asks. Hey, sure, Patrick. Sure.
Abby returns to Trauma Green once her job would have been more or less complete. Malik and Weaver are with Jared, who's been unable to breathe on his own for almost five minutes. If he hits that mark, he's basically brain dead. Jana correctly processes this as bad news and reacts with an open-mouthed gulp. Malik calls out that it's been five minutes, and Abby methodically hooks up the respirator while fixing her face into what she imagines is pity, but which comes across more like, "Lady, you don't know from problems." Jana can't believe this is it. "I'm sorry," Weaver whispers. "Jared can't breathe without a ventilator. When you're ready, we can talk about how long you want him to be on the machines." Jana sobs that her husband didn't even have a chance to get there before they lost Jared. Weaver offers her condolences again while Abby fiddles with the machinery to avoid delivering a line that doesn't somehow revolve around her own misery. "He hates it when I leave," Jana sniffles. "He tries to stall me with hugs and kisses. He was running out to give me another hug." Abby gazes at Jana. "Would this be the wrong time to ask her if she's related to anyone at the FAA?" she thinks.