Suddenly, Druggie turns the gun on Abby. He wants proof she's shooting him up with the right sweet nectar. Eric starts toward Abby, which is always a good idea when you're dealing with an armed man who's jumpy and feeling a tad crabby. "Stay right there, Eric," Abby warns him levelly, flashing the Demerol label for Druggie. Meanwhile, this scene hasn't ended yet. Everyone's just standing around looking bored, as if Druggie's forcing Chen to get a manicure while Abby washes his hair. This hospital does have some Security people, even if they aren't numerous. Where are they? Eric watches nervously as Abby sticks Druggie with his precious juice. Chen eats her lip. He's getting what he came for, and since she's seen TV before, she knows what's coming: Phase Three, the dreaded, sappy, yet apparently indispensable Moment Where Irrational Anger Turns Profound. "Why'd you want to be a doctor?" Druggie asks Pratt calmly. "Was it the money?" Pratt shrugs that money certainly played into it. "What's the other part?" Druggie wonders. "It's complicated," Pratt says. "Explain it to me. I mean, you can't tell me you actually wanted to help people," Druggie laughs hollowly. "Or maybe you did, right? Maybe you all wanted to help people, but then little by little, you realized that there's just too many people to help." He releases Chen and heads for Abby, bending down to kiss her on the cheek. She squeezes her eyes shut. "Thank you," he leers. Carter looks irate. No one thanks his girlfriend for drugs but him. Druggie is about to leave, but he hasn't completed Phase Four, which is The Final Burst of Rage With A Sweeping Threat. "Remember this!" screams Druggie, waving the gun around at everyone. "For next time." He sweeps the gun past everyone one final time, completely fails to plug anyone full of sweet, sweet lead, and struts out of there in slow-motion with no blood on his hands. Bummer. Inside, Chen exhales for the first time in ten minutes, and hyperventilates while Carter and Abby swap "Um, I Guess We Should Look At Each Other Right Now" glances. We fade to black and pray we don't fade back up.
Ah, but we do, and we see that Druggie has passed out in the parking lot. Abby, Carter, Weaver, and Pratt squat over him contemplatively. Apparently, Abby pumped him with 400 milligrams of justice. "That'll do it," Weaver says. They cart him away for treatment, complete with restraints and a Psych consult. Carter surveys Abby, and protectively suggests that she take off and go lie down. "I'm fine," she insists. He wants her to lie down anyway; despite the constant urgings to get on her back, Abby swears again that she's just peachy, as spiffy and shiny as a John T. Carter III penny loafer. Carter spies Weaver and demands to know what happened to those metal detectors they were supposed to get; she tries to brush it off. "We were supposed to have them a year ago," Carter persists. And you're only noticing their absence now? Way to be on the ball. Weaver blathers that metal detectors are not part of the current security plan. Carter's in a fit of pique at the idea that there's a "security plan" of which he knows nothing, because nothing excites him more than being all up in the hospital's bottom line. He runs after Weaver.