At the mall, Carter and Jing-Mei "Deb" Chen horse around in a toy store. She coos over a toy, but when Carter suggests she buy it for her absent son, Chen's face darkens and she tries to answer, casually, that "they won't let me send any gifts." She does perk up when talking about the video she got of the child learning to walk. Chen seems awed by this, and partly wounded that her son is taking these strides independently of her. Bummed, she wonders aloud if she'll ever make any right decisions in her life. I'm guessing no, since she already blew her chance to leave this show for a better one. "Something will open up," Carter assures her. She cryptically suggests that it might open up at County General, takes a deep breath, and admits to Carter that she interrogated the waitress at Doc Magoo's to see if she remembered Weaver getting paged the night Paul died. Carter is noticeably taken aback. Chen confesses her desperation, but follows with the reveal that the waitress recalled Weaver coming in looking for her pager and ultimately finding it in the bathroom. "She couldn't answer my page, John, because she didn't have her pager," Chen stresses. Carter looks away, swallows, and looks back. "That explains it," he says. He seems dispassionate, which is realistic given that Weaver gave him his dream job because Chen quit. Chen doesn't say what she'll do with the information, but her eyes betray her.
Abby tends to Icicle Andy's corpse. It seems the poor sod kicked it. "I heard bums reincarnate as pigeons when they die," Malik offers cheerfully. Why, so they can crap on the society that crapped all over them? I think I just answered my own question. Abby fishes around and whips out a pair of great tickets to the evening's Chicago Blackhawks game; Malik brightens and begs her for them. She won't fork them over because it smacks of grave robbery, but Malik insists that no one's going to claim them and Icicle Andy won't be thawing out this time. "Abby, look, he's straight-up DEAD," Malik whines. But Abby, being joyless, ignores this.
Gallant flags down Abby and asks her to check and make sure he ran the correct tests on an elderly patient. She spots something he skipped and, with an air of "be careful, kid," she dispatches him to remedy this. Suddenly, Abby feels a tug on her heartstrings and whirls around to see Douglas standing alone in the ER playing Abandonment in A Minor on the violin. He's stranded and alone. And probably on a raging Krispy Kreme sugar high, but that's glossed over in the editing. She bolts to read Frank the riot act, but he's rifled through the check-in logs for a B. Leeman and didn't find one listed. Abby tells him to surf the admit log. How is that different? ["Maybe the check-in log covers everyone that walks off the street, including those that don't stay to be treated, and the admit logs cover actual patients, and she's guessing that Douglas's mom didn't check in?" -- Wing Chun] Whatever -- she's interrupted by her ex-husband, Richard, who showed up out of the blue. Abby stares at him as if he's Neecole, which is to say, a putrid manure-eating toad.