The drunk driver who hit the Snow Family Robinson drools and drawls while Nathan examines him grudgingly. "Get me something for the pain, brother!" he shouts. Nathan looks like he'd enjoy an impromptu appearance by the Raging Fist of Dyskinesia. Sadly, all he has now is his sass. "All that alcohol wasn't enough, brother?" Nathan spits. Asswipe slurs that he only had one beer. Yeah, right. In the car, maybe. Elizabeth coldly takes over the examination. "Did you do it?" Nathan asks. "Ask me in six hours. The transplant team's working now," she replies. As Nathan lists and jerks to one side, Elizabeth notices a seatbelt contusion on Asswipe's stomach. "Safety first," Nathan grumps. Because he is a sweet, tactful soul, Asswipe points at Nathan's twitching and asks if he's got Tourette's. "They let you be a doctor like this?" he gawks. "Only with patients they don't care about," Nathan fires back. And suddenly, the world loves Nathan again. Asswipe can't fathom that he just got dissed. Asswipe is so blitzed that words don't actually penetrate. "Do you know what you did?" yells Nathan. "You killed a whole family." Asswipe pshaws that he hit a snowman. "They were making a snowman, you jerk!" Nathan screams. Elizabeth sends Nathan away before he whips himself into a Tazmanian Devil tizzy and spins through Asswipe like a power saw.
Eric climbs into a Jeep with one last petulant glance at Abby, who's watching through the window. "You have to give him time, Abby," Maggie insists. Abby turns angrily. "Now you speak?" she growls. "Now you have an opinion?" As Maggie tries to argue that Eric can't feel like they're ganging up, Abby stalks away, deliberately putting a wall between herself and her mother so that she can flip Maggie the bird. Abby insists that she wasn't pushing him; Maggie begs to differ because she heard Abby pushing Chicago as a living option already. "I'm not so sure he should be hospitalized," Maggie posits. "That's not really your decision," She Who Shall Rule All She Beholds snarks. "Is it yours?" Maggie retorts pointedly. I hate when Maggie reads my mind. Abby explains, as if to a seven-year-old, that the drugs are what make Eric appear normal. Maggie gives her a look that says, "And you think I'd be having this conversation if I wasn't just as hopped up?" Instead, she says, "I know the pathology, sweetie. And yes, the easy thing would be to try to commit him." Abby snorts. Maggie insists that Eric has to accept the disease first and learn to accommodate it. Abby counters that until that time, he needs to be watched and force-fed his meds or he'll stop taking them. "You always did," she jabs. Maggie can't deny this. She inches toward Abby, who is quietly starting to cry. "Trust me on this," Maggie whispers. "It's like AA. It's got to be his decision." Ooh, and Abby's been so great about AA. I love it when Abby's hypocrisy does a striptease right in front of her face. "I have been living with this disease my entire life," Abby hisses. "Please don't lecture me." Oh, gross, she did NOT just imply that she's been handling this longer than Maggie has. Yeah, yeah, sorry about your childhood, Abby, but you're not the only person to whom shit happens. Strap on a jet-pack and get the fuck OVER it. "You've never been inside it," Maggie points out. "What is that? Inside it," Abby frowns, wiping her eyes petulantly. "Like you two have some sort of special bond now because you're both inside of it." Maura Tierney again does a great job here. You can feel that she's watching her bond with Eric erode. She and he were a united front, and now, he's crossed onto Maggie's side, and she's alone, and whether or not she should feel that way, she does. Nice acting. Maggie calmly reminds Abby that things can't revert to the way they were, and there's no quick fix for this -- Eric's got to wage this battle for the rest of his life. Abby blinks hard. "Emmy clip," she is saying to her agent.