Susan has not eloped with Patrick, but rather taken him to an amusement park. They're on a ferris wheel. Whee. I would so dump her ass if she was like, "Sorry you're dying -- let's go somewhere sticky with urine and sugar that you've probably already been to anyway." But Patrick chooses this moment to tell her a meaningful tale about a story Julia, his sister, read: "It's about a little Japanese girl with cancer, and she tried to make a thousand paper cranes because she thought if she did, it would make her wish come true," he explains. Her wish? To recover. "How many paper cuts do you have?" Susan smiles. "A lot," he admits. "But my wish is kind of different." And they lock eyes. Gingerly, he leans in and kisses her on the lips. She lets him, blushing like she's his age, and shakes her head, laughing. "Kiss pretty good for a dead kid, huh?" he says proudly. "Not bad at all," she chuckles, thinking, "The kid's dying -- I probably shouldn't even bother introducing him to tongue."

The accident, it turns out, did indeed stem from the police car chase. Ambulances arrive carrying cops, one of whom is a white guy named Mitch. Yup, he's the same guy who offended Pratt and Gallant, and yup, Pratt's assigned to his case. Now, if you didn't see this twist coming, then you should stop watching this show and dive into television more slowly, perhaps through something like Saved By The Bell. "Nice to see you again," Pratt mouths off. "You know him?" Weaver asks. "He wears Florsheims. Rubber soles. Isn't that right?" snickers Pratt. The cop shits a nightstick.

The story wouldn't be complete if Gallant didn't get on this, so once inside, Weaver yells for Gallant to join them at Mitch's side. Gallant hangs back, so Pratt stays with him to give him a speech. "Hurry the hell up," Weaver snaps. Pratt points out that Gallant needs to be a bigger man and go in there and do his job, and help save the trauma patient. "I can't help that guy," Gallant insists. "This is what we do!" rages Pratt. "Get your ass in there."

Carter peers outside to see what the fuss is all about, and concludes that the word "clusterfuck" aptly describes the traffic situation. He also concludes that furrowing his brow won't clear the way, so he gets back in the car. Maggie has paused in her knitting to admire the ring. "Marriage can be a great thing," she says dreamily. "'Can be,'" Carter says, amused but a little uncomfortable. "What the hell do I know? Mine failed, for many reasons," Maggie snorts. "You sure as hell don't want my advice." But she puts down her knitting anyway, because you can't shut up a Wyczenski. "But I would think that with that kind of commitment to somebody, you have to be ready for anything," she muses. "Or nothing," Carter offers. "You never know what's going to happen." Maggie looks at him. "Or, you do," she says pointedly. "You mean the drinking?" Carter asks, shifting uneasily in his seat. Maggie babbles that it took having a baby to make her stop smoking, but that she never did stop drinking. "Maybe Abby will be stronger," she says unconvincingly. Carter either really hates this conversation, or his jock itch is back.