ER
Foreign Affairs

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Foreign Affairs

No mere swinging door can keep Luka from saving the life of some little boy he's never met, so he bursts in on Elizabeth during a surgical procedure and begs her to help him with Ante. She refuses, claiming it's too far afield from her area of expertise, which if I remember correctly is largely intestinal, so maybe she really ought to break out of the mold. Luka ups the Ante, specifically to let me make that joke, because he's such a giver and all he really cares about is my happiness -- I mean, how else to explain why Goran Visnjic hasn't fled the show, screaming? Anyway, Luka offers to mow Elizabeth's lawn and baby-sit Ella. "Over my dead body," she snaps. "And this guy's, too, if you don't tie off that bleeder," Shirley interrupts. Elizabeth wishes she could help, but she thinks this is all very sudden and rash, as if it were a certain time of year in which dramatic statements and montage-worthy moments might be appear willy-nilly in the ER, as if some mythical man in a mythical editing bay was planning to turn them into promotional pieces that might hook some so-called "viewers." Luka insists that they are Ante's last prayer. Elizabeth selfishly asks if Dr. Dorsett is on the team. "Uh...is that a problem?" Luka hedges. "Yes!" Elizabeth blurts. Shirley jerks her head up so hard that it drops clean off in the other direction. "Okay, no, no, fine, fine. I'll do it," spits Elizabeth, exasperated, flushed, and a little embarrassed that the entire room can smell Charred Loin.

Abby sidles over to Carter, who is scowling in a chair at the now-empty funeral site. She grins wryly that she fed Eric the whole bottle of Depakote. Agitated, Abby sits down and babbles that she was stuck. "He couldn't be left alone, and I really wanted to be here with you, and I thought he would just wait in the car, and I'm really sorry, John," she says desperately. Carter nods. Quite honestly, I'm not sure what I'd have done in her place. The last time she chose Eric, Carter had a total hissyfit, so there's no way she had the option of calling and saying, "Eric's here -- I can't be with you today." And in his condition, Eric would probably have trashed Abby's place, or fallen out the window, if she'd left him there. Personally, I think she should've either dropped him off at the hospital on the way, or, if geography made that impossible, I'd have brought him and had the limo driver circle the block until the funeral was over rather than park and risk him getting out. Still, I feel bad for her. She was trying to be where she felt she belonged. "I'm going to drop him off at the hospital and then I'll come by the house, okay?" she says. "What for?" Carter breathes emptily. Abby stammers that Eric promised to get evaluated and possibly put in a locked ward. "I mean, why come by the house?" Carter interrupts. Confused, Abby grits her teeth and stares at the grass. "I know what happened was terrible," she begins nervously. "Unforgivable, really, but my brother is sick, and he's struggling, and I'm just trying to help him survive." Carter meets her gaze. "I know. So go do that," he says coldly. Sucking wind for a second, Abby closes her mouth and slowly walks away toward Eric, who is leaning against the limo with his head down.

Pratt scolds Jennifer for Botoxing her neck. "They say botulism is beautiful," she says through a mouth that barely moves. Pratt snorts that she won't be so hot with a feeding tube up her nose that dumps into her stomach. "You'll have to use that to feed yourself four cans of solution a day," he says. "Will I lose weight?" she says. Pratt rolls his eyes and telepathically tells her that she's a stupid wench with too much money.

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