Abby gets through to the hospital and gasps. "Oh my God. Was anybody there? ...No, from the ER," she clarifies. Silence. "Okay. I'll be right in," Abby says, hanging up. Awkwardly, she grabs her stuff and promises to drive Maggie to the bus station later. Left alone, Maggie clears the table, and something akin to loneliness washes over her face. She seems lost. She's not sure when her Emmy clip is coming, and time seems to be running out. Abby suddenly reappears. "Or, you could stay a few more days," she suggests, trying not to sound hopeful. Maggie swivels; she clearly wants to stay, but instead she unenthusiastically says that she needs to get back to work. Smoke rises from her pants. "[You could] be here waiting in case he shows up," Abby tempts her. Maggie fixes a too-bright smile to her face. "What if he shows up in Minnesota?" she counters. Abby exhales hard and then nods. "You're right," she says, leaving. Maggie looks sad again. Lord, you people have issues.
It's daylight now, as the paramedics wheel the carnage out of Doc Magoo's. A pushy cop wants to quiz Trina right now, in case she dies, but Chen doesn't think that's an awfully optimistic way to behave. Weaver shows up, because that's what she does. "How many [traumas]?" she asks "Only one," Luka replies. "Three were pronounced on the scene." Weaver offers to take Trina, perhaps in case she has hidden leukemia or something. But Luka insists that he's fine, which I thought was much of the point of last week's little escapade in the snow. The cops try to talk to her again, but Trina isn't breathing. Chen figures out that ripping off the dressing on Trina's chest wound will reinflate her, and it does, with a giant whooshing noise. It's the life whooshing back into the show! Choose life, ER! Choose life! Luka pauses as he watches Chen wheel Trina inside. He looks struck by the tragedy of it all. Oh, God, please don't let this be History of a Croat, Version 3.0: I Done Lost My Family In A War-Torn Diner. Weaver calls out to him. "I just need a minute," he says, trying to sound flippant, but failing, because you can't interrupt a good brood with glibness.