Weaver awkwardly thanks Sandy for saving her life during The Storm. "No sweat," Sandy breezes. Weaver busies herself with some supplies to avoid both her urge to mount and her mounting urge to lose herself in Sandy. "Crazy job," Weaver says. "Haven't met too many female firefighters." Sandy proudly notes that she's the only woman in company B, and calls herself one of the guys. She grins. Weaver timidly offers to examine Sandy's wounded hand, but Sandy smiles that she doesn't like doctors, and slinks away with a suggestive, "Maybe some other time."
Mark flees to Rudy's frantically beeping life monitors and asks Gallant what went wrong. Apparently, Rudy stopped breathing and his blood pressure shot up to 230/120. Mark hunches over near Rudy's head, and Papa Escalona huddles next to him, completely in the way. I don't know enough about actual hospitals to decide whether it's inappropriate that he's so omnipresent, or totally normal. Me, I'd be in the waiting room avoiding all signs of blood and guts and fluid seepage. And it's never fun to see panicked doctors working on a loved one, especially when said doctor simultaneously takes a phone call from his daughter. Mark doesn't touch the phone, at least; instead, Haleh relays to Mark that Rachel just wants to check in, and Mark yells via Haleh that Elizabeth will be home by six. Lily assists with some meds, but Rudy deteriorates into V-tach. Papa Escalona freaks out, but isn't kicked out. Dude, leave! Mark charges the paddles to 200.