Mark and Rachel exit the school. Students flow in and out of the door because no one could decide what time of day it's supposed to be. Mark threatens to ship her back to St. Louis, which must be a fate worse than death, because Rachel stops trying to fight him and instead switches to whiny protestations of his treatment of her. "Why are you doing this to me?" she whimpers. Mark sighs, weighed down by the gravity of the lessons life's taught him, and imparts to Rachel that he's seen teen girls in the ER who are drug addicts, suicidal, pregnant, homeless or victims of gang rape, all because no one in their lives cared enough to protect and guide them. Keep it up, Mark, and the Trite Police will slap you in jail for a month. He passionately blathers that he cares too much about Rachel to let her waste her life. "You may not like it now, hell you may never like it, but this is how it's going to be," he finishes, having arrived at the car and backed a pouty Rachel up against it. She broods energetically.
Cleo finds Reese and Peter in the day-care center, smiling brightly and sitting down next to the little boy. "Hi, Reese!" she signs animatedly. "How are you?" He grins and replies. "Good," she replies. Michael Michele looks gorgeous here, and she's actually sort of sweet with Reese. I'm sorry they broke her and Benton up, if only because it might've added a nice level to the custody storyline if she, too, got attached to Reese and then faced losing him. Or, maybe she'd have sided with Roger, and...well, it's all moot, so I'll move along. Peter admits that he's been advised to take the DNA test. "What happens if you're not a genetic match?" she asks gently. Peter shrugs that it makes Roger's custody case that much stronger. "Nothing's changed," Cleo whispers soothingly. "You're still his father." Beaming brightly, Cleo invites the duo to her place for Reese's favorite fish sticks, but Reese interrupts by throwing a wee tantrum and shoving his jigsaw across the table, signing furiously. "Daddy can't take you home," Peter says stiffly. "I have to work." Reese cries. Benton won't look at Cleo. "He wants his other daddy to come take him home," he despairs.
Huddled under a desk, Carter yells at Gamma through the telephone. He cautions her not to drive, but obviously, she ignores his orders. He has no business making himself her doctor for precisely that reason. Carter, we know you want to make her proud and prove you're all grown up, but come ON. You're letting pride impair your judgment, and you've forced me to counsel you as if you're a real person. Please make it stop. Susan sits down near him just as he hangs up in total impotent frustration. "She just called me from the car," he exposits. "She's been driving around for two hours just to prove me wrong." Susan chuckles, but it isn't funny, it's irritating. Carter agrees with me, fretting that she'll end up hurting herself or someone else. "What do I do?" he implores her. "Call the cops on my grandmother? You already made me call the DMV." Susan snorts that she's not the bad guy here, then brightly offers to go with Carter to the house and wait for Gamma there. She's pretty transparent. I can actually see her kidneys. Carter seems interested. "I mean, yeah, if you want," she amends, nerdy and timid. Carter pauses, perks up a tad, realizes Susan is dragging out the goalie's net to help him score, and agrees.