As Elizabeth staggers downstairs, Rachel demands to be treated "like a thinking person" for once. Honey, you've had your chance, and you've proven you don't ever think. Remember when you wanted to live with Mark? That was the first clue. Elizabeth tries to wrap her fatigued mind around the argument. Mark wants Rachel to use better judgment. Rachel brats that she obviously wasn't thinking clearly when she chose to move here -- thanks, yes, we knew it -- and flounces off to her room when Mark switches off the movie. "I'm calling Mom," she cries. "I'm moving back to St. Louis." Mark swears it won't be that easy. "Why? You don't want me here anyway!" Rachel yells. Elizabeth hisses, "Quiet, you'll wake the..." Ella begins to cry. "...baby," she moans, defeated. The Valium Villa marrieds swap frustrated glances.
Abby is now huddled outside on the front steps of her apartment building. She's called the police on Joyce and Brian, both of whom are outside near the parked patrol car. A cop approaches Abby and calmly tells her that her complaint is now on record, but that Joyce refuses to file one. The woman played it off as though she and Brian just had a minor squabble over a lost shoe, or a burned casserole, or talked calmly and scientifically about how much force his fist needs to knock Joyce off her ass. Dumbfounded, Abby watches Brian guide his wife gently upstairs. "You must have really thin walls," he smiles to Abby. She can't believe this bullshit.
The Cold House. Eleanor Carter grabs the whistling kettle off the stove. The kettle has become quite the overused prop on the ER set -- almost every single time TPTB want to convey that it's morning, they whip out the kettle and make it sing. Carter sleepily arrives downstairs and grabs a mug. "You don't drink coffee," Eleanor comments. "I remember you hating coffee." Carter sighs, "When I was fifteen." Eleanor plasters a smile on her face and brightly offers to make her son breakfast, as if proving she's such a good mother that she's deigning to do the servants' job. Carter snorts and can't hide his shock. "Momentary weakness," she enunciates. "Take advantage." It's very hard for me to listen to this. Her voice is my enemy. Then, with a none-too-subtle air of desperation, Eleanor pumps Carter like a trombone for information about Stephen. Since she lacks her ex's number and is enormously childish, Eleanor wants Carter to call Stephen on her behalf, or perhaps write him a really heartfelt note -- "Do you want to sleep over tonight? Circle one: Yes/ No/ Maybe/ Ask my mother/ Only if you make brownies." Carter's not in the mood for fourth-grade heroics. "Better yet, the three of us could dip ourselves in a vat of acid," he suggests. Eleanor flinches. That sounds eerily reminiscent of her wedding night. "We made mistakes," she stammers. "I made mistakes, I know. But I don't believe that it's too late to fix it." Carter just stares at her.