Abby notices Pointless Bit Part, R.N., relaxing at the front desk. There's tomfoolery about how Bit Part is taking a break. You don't need to hear it. She exists so that Abby can whirl around and bump smack into Brian. "Where is she?" he demands, a calm demeanor belying his anxiety. Abby tries to play dumb, but Brian calls her on her lies. "I know she stayed at your place," he fumes. "Well, I know you beat the crap out of her," Abby spits. Brian testily claims that Joyce swung a bat at his head, and tries to showcase the bruise. Um, wouldn't a bat to the head do a bit more damage than that? Abby muscles past him, but Brian persists in quizzing her about Joyce. Snapping, Abby sasses that she'll happily deliver him to his wife -- because the cops are with Joyce, and might not mind a friendly chat with Brian. Abby's more pissed than intimidated by him, and holds her ground well. Luka pops out of the exam room behind Abby, and his presence seems to scare off Brian. "Who's that?" Luka asks. "The husband," Abby groans.
Elizabeth finds Mark in the trauma room and impatiently asks whether he got her page. Mark doesn't point out that, you know, there's a bleeding person on a slab in front of him, and maybe that is also important. Instead, he says the page he saw came from neurology; Elizabeth brats that it's because she was up there examining "[his] daughter's EEG." Susan good-naturedly takes over as Mark bolts out to pay attention to at least one of his children.
In the hall, Elizabeth delivers the good news that Ella's EEG -- a measure of brain activity, I believe -- is normal, but Elizabeth's mightily rankled that Mark skipped the consultation. He apologetically explains that the ER got swamped. "Swamped," Elizabeth repeats, uncomprehendingly. She scowls, then shakes her head as if to say, "Typical." What a bitch. Is she aware that this is Mark's job? And that he's scheduled to be doing it right now? During a staff shortage? Elizabeth stalks through the hall in a black cloud of ire. She's toxic. Mark defends himself by noting that Ella's breathing on her own and showing signs of recovery, but Elizabeth is irate that she's been left alone to deal with watching Ella in the PICU. I suppose she has a right to feel a little shafted, but still -- she's bitchier than a pregnant Collie. She snarls that she's going home to shower and change. "Be careful, because the evil daughter's there waiting for me," Mark brats. Oh no. It's coming. I'm going to do it. I can't...suppress...it: Hee! And ha! And go Mark, even! I feel like Jessica during her painful pro-Dawson period. I feel dirty. I need a whore to cleanse my feet in sweet oils and holy water. Elizabeth appreciates her husband's shred of personality about as much as you'd expect: she glares at him so hard, her left eye pops out. "Just go upstairs and sit with your baby," she seethes. Mark objects to her telling Rachel to leave, contending that banishment isn't going to solve the problem. "What has to happen, Mark?" Elizabeth shouts, all but literally throwing up her hands. "Does she actually have to succeed in killing her?" Oh, like she was ever trying to in the first place. Elizabeth vows that it's her turn to take control, and as such, Rachel's a goner. She bolts out the sliding doors in a whirl of hatred, and probably stench.