In Trauma Green, Paula's smoked body is 90% burned. Malarkey is nauseated by the smell. It reminds him of that time in college that they did that thing with the guy, and that other thing, and the sheep. "Don't breathe through your nose," Sam advises him. As they prepare to shoot Paula up with morphine, they finally think to drag a screen in front of her so that her son can't see anything else that might give him twenty years of nightmares. Sam notices that Coop's got a wound on his head, and orders him to dress it before continuing. Reluctantly, he does, because he is the heroic yin to Malarkey's piddling, flaccid yang. "I'm dead, aren't I?" Paula says, her voice distorted from the soot in her mouth and her having few actual uncooked facial muscles. Luka and Susan can't think of anything to say that doesn't involve the words "Holy shit, YES, so dead," so they remain silent. Paula's burned all her nerve endings and has about a 10% chance of living through this. She doesn't want them to intubate because she wants to talk to Henry, and Coop wants to respect that, but Susan thinks the suicidal urges negate Paula's right to refuse treatment. She's agitated and is fumbling things. Malarkey, meanwhile, has thrown up all over the floor, because somebody has to do it, and he might as well step up for something.
Dr. Diego saunters up to Jacy, calls her "Loose Lips," and irritatedly asks her where Corday is. Jacy snatches some films from his hand and promises to pass them along to Elizabeth herself. "I'm in no mood for a demonstration of female solidarity," Diego growls. That's not what he said while he was watching Debbie Does Alice last weekend. Elizabeth chooses this moment to get off the elevator, so Dr. Diego gives chase down the hallway. "She's doing an elective at Boston Children's Hospital," he pants. "She's a student?" scoffs Elizabeth, disgusted. "Things have been strained," he says. Yes -- in his pants. From the tents he's poppin' with all the women at County General. He pathetically continues, "I haven't slept with her in, like, weeks." Elizabeth shoots him the greatest dick-shriveling stare. "Months. I meant months," he fumbles. She theatrically accuses him of hiding pictures of Mrs. Diego in a drawer, not really expecting it to be true, but Dr. Diego is a tool -- a sexy, sexy tool -- so he does in fact admit he'd been hiding all evidence in a cabinet. What a freak. But seriously, wouldn't this wife revelation have happened already? He's been around the hospital, if not on our screens, for roughly nineteen episodes now. Elizabeth storms into the doctors' lounge. "Uh," Diego calls out. "You're not going to call her, are you?" Elizabeth slams the door in fury, leaving him outside to marinate in his own filth and cowardice.