Weaver checks on a little boy rescued from the burning building; he's fine, and merrily spinning around on a stool. He comments that he told "the fire lady" he wasn't hurt, but that she rode in the ambulance with him anyway. Weaver hears "fire lady" as "loins-afire lady" and brightens. "Is the fire lady here with you now?" she smiles. The kid shrugs, but does supply that he doesn't think she was hurt because she was cracking jokes in the rig. Weaver orders Jerry to call the unit and verify that all firefighters there are safe. Then she bounds outside to see if Sandy might still be there; she isn't. Weaver's hopeful face falls, and she reluctantly returns to the ER.
Carter can't find Mark, and asks Susan where he might be. She avoids answering the question; this inexplicably leads to a bit about I'll Take "Things Carter Has Fished Out of People's Insides" for $500, Alex. Among them is an old pen of Susan's that she tests, and which still works. Carter smirks that he took that from someone's anus and she throws it back in his little dish. So it wasn't gross when it was in someone's belly? Weird doctors. Weird scene.
The elevator opens. Elizabeth is staring at nothing, hands on her hips, fists clenched. I think she's supposed to snap out of her reverie as the doors begin to close, but Alex Kingston times it wrong and jolts awake a second too soon. So she then struggles through elevator doors that are supposed to be closing hard on her, but are only just barely starting to slide. Lizzie bumps into Terry, who hands her an unsigned transplant consent form. "What about Joanne?" Elizabeth asks. "Joanne's never had time for anyone but Joanne," Terry whispers flatly. Elizabeth hates that excuse and begs Terry to reconsider. "She's still your sister!" Elizabeth shouts. Terry shrugs and says she wishes she were a better person, but she isn't, and she wants be in the playoffs she's trained her whole life to attend. She half-heartedly considers helping Joanne once her team's finished. I hope they lose in the Sweet Sixteen round and Terry feels like a little, little person, in addition to being a sad loser. Elizabeth can't believe what she's hearing, and storms into an office, overcome at how selfish some people can be and thanking God she's never, ever done anything selfish, and never, ever put herself before others. Ever.
Once inside the office, the mad cow snorts and spits, foams at the mouth, and crumples paper in ire. Throwing it across the room, Elizabeth starts sobbing -- full-on weeping, wailing and heaving. It's as if someone she loves is dying, except we know that isn't really the case. She sinks into a chair. Suddenly, Romano bursts into the office, and Elizabeth desperately tries to muffle her sobs. "Hiding out, are you?" he says, chipper. "Do me a favor -- go down there when those idiots page you. They're like crazed cyborgs, paging every five minutes until they somehow manage to find your fearless leader and suck us all into their universe." Um. Okay. Elizabeth horks some sadness into a Kleenex. Romano turns around. "What happened?" he asks. "Prince Harry in rehab again?" Elizabeth emits a shrill half-cry, half-chuckle, and Romano falls silent, aware that she's actually weeping in full force. "Mark's tumor's back," she blurts thinly. Romano stops, stricken. "Has it invaded Broca's?" he asks quietly. Elizabeth delivers the bad news that it's fully entrenched and inoperable. Romano slowly strolls closer to her. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely, seriously. She doesn't look up. "He's known about it for weeks," she spits. "He just didn't tell me." Romano considers this, setting down his mug and sitting in the chair next to her. "Maybe he was protecting you," offers Romano. Elizabeth snorts and shakes her head. "There's so much we haven't worked out," she frets, biting her lip and sniffling. "Oh, I...I don't think I can go through this again." Romano simply listens to her pain, blinking. "I'm sick and tired of being the strong one," she rants, as if running away from her marriage after the Ecstasy incident wasn't totally the easy way out, and as if it requires no inner gumption whatsoever to treat a brain tumor and its side effects alone, in addition to trying to protect your troubled wife and daughter while looking at your infant child, aware you'll never truly know her. Yeah, that's easy. If she hadn't lost me already, I'd be so done with her right now. "We've...we've broken up, we've grown apart," adds Elizabeth. "He doesn't even expect me to be there anyway." Romano still says nothing, which is so cool of him. He's just letting her hash it out for herself without passing judgment. Until she turns to him and laughs bitterly. "What am I supposed to do?" she demands, sensing his silent disagreement. "Go back home to watch him die?" Romano gazes at her calmly. "Yes," he says simply. And ninety-nine "WORD" balloons go by. Elizabeth furrows her brow and stares at her clenched hands. "Well, I don't think I can," she insists. Romano pauses. "Is he your husband?" he asks softly. Elizabeth rolls her eyes and duhs, "Yes." Romano continues, "Do you love him?" Elizabeth's lip trembles as the camera pushes in on her. "Yes," she admits reluctantly, choking on her tears. Romano nods slightly, his point made. Elizabeth also seems aware that her decision's just been made, but she still looks perturbed at being called upon to act kindly. Fade to black.