Carter spits that Nathan should let Alison die with dignity. Nathan waxes rhapsodic about all the little embryos out there that could be harvested and used to cure life's little ailments. He lists a bunch. Carter interrupts, "Parkinson's Disease?" Nathan levels him for a second, then snaps, "Cured," with a curt nod. Carter realizes that Nathan is taking this case personally for a reason. It was the anvil on his toe that clued him in to this fact. "I know you need to believe that, and I'd love to believe in miracles, too, but she's dying," Carter says softly. "She's dying, Nathan, and the only question is, how well?" Nathan shakes his head slightly. "She's twenty-six years old," he rails. "There's no dying well. You're giving up." Disgusted, he turns and walks away, leaving Carter shaking his head in wonder. We fade to black humming that "The More You Know" jingle.
While Elizabeth treats a patient's leg, Carter whines to her about Nathan's impudence. "You were perfectly happy when he was babysitting your patient," Elizabeth notes acerbically. Hee. She's so right, too. "Because you won't deal with him," Carter points out. And, score one for the skinny kid. We're all tied. "If her mind is that easily changed, she obviously wasn't ready to sign the DNR," Elizabeth says. Carter frets that Nathan distorted reality in order to convince Alison to renege on her signature. "He obviously believes that reality," Elizabeth says. "He offered her hope. Is that so terrible?" Carter believes it is, in Alison's case. Carter asks Elizabeth to start supervising him, please. "I can't change the way he sees patients," she says, taking leave of him. "This is a teaching hospital," he grouses under his breath.
The lottery drawing. Can you stand it? It's so exciting. No wonder they changed the title of this episode -- they cut out almost all the lottery-related hijinks. I think that's for the best.
Carter heads into the lounge, where Abby's closing up her locker. "Better watch out -- they're choosing the next mega-millionaire out there," Carter grins. "I thought you already won the lottery," she teases. "Oh, I did, when I met you," Carter deadpans. They chuckle. And don't touch. Abby complains mildly about Eric's hare-brained scheme about dancing outside in November in Chicago, then she slumps down on the couch. "I wish I could go be someplace quiet with him," she sighs. Carter misinterprets her reaction as aversion to Jody, and stops in his tracks when he realizes Abby is legitimately worried about Eric's behavior. "[He's] flighty, spontaneous..." she begins. "Happy?" Carter suggests, sitting next to her. "Too happy," Abby corrects him. "No such thing," Carter says. "In my family, yes, there is," Abby frets. Carter considers her with concern, then holds out his hand in a jerky motion. She grabs it and they twine their fingers casually. It's actually the only really genuine gesture I've seen them make -- my ex-boyfriend and I have pretty much mirrored it, right down to the way he proffered his hand sharply and she took it just as abruptly. Kinda eerie, actually. Except we actually, you know, enjoyed the contact. Abby lists aloud her concerns -- the smoking, the Cessna, the milkshakes -- and swears that her radar isn't overly sensitive. I'm not sure I agree. Smoking, sure. Rented planes? Stranger things have happened. But cravings for sweet, milky, chocolatey beverages that taste like liquid love? That's ten feet over the line. Abby immediately questions her snap judgment, and resorts to staring at the couch in total uncertainty. Carter scoots to his feet. "It's a double date," he says. "I think we can all afford to have some fun." Abby loops her hands around his neck. "Only if you don't make me dance," she grins. "I can't promise anything," he sighs. "Oh, you have commitment issues?" Abby teases. They kiss. It's not their worst, but yeesh, suck on those things like you love, her, okay, Carter?