Susan and Carter sip coffee on the roof. She thinks Ralph and Alice are sweet, but what's really sweet is that hip black coat with the Burberry cuffs! Available now at all fine retailers near you, and integral to your wardrobe if you want to bed a young M.D. like Carter. Seriously, was Susan's coat two weeks ago reversible, or did a Burberry giant clip its fingernails in her apartment? Carter grins that Alice can safely get pregnant through artificial insemination, and they flirt about the oddball brilliance of his diagnosis. Susan gets giggly about sex in a pick-up truck. "It had a camper shell," Carter says importantly. Susan thinks it's funny, but isn't too weirded out, recalling her own bizarre sexual encounter on a Ferris Wheel. "I was young," she says, laughing at Carter's awed reaction. "It was my first real boyfriend." But not her first sex, I hope, or else that was one messy ride. Yikes. But Carter ups the too-much-information factor by sharing a story about masturbating on a train to Seattle. "I was by myself, but it was memorable," he says. Susan is understandably aroused -- any woman would be, because of course there's nothing sexier or more attractive than a man vigorously tugging the twig, impregnating all the Kleenex he can find.
Okay, I'm back; I had to leave briefly, because looking at Carter made me slightly uncomfortable. He cocks his head as Susan drinks her coffee and makes a benign comment about the weather. They agree to go inside, but pause after standing up. This is, I think, their first moment alone since that night by the pool. Susan looks appropriately nervous, because she clearly knows Carter will try something; for his part, Carter is inquisitive, but you can spot the moment he decides to make his move. The moment is perfect up to this point, but the kiss itself is colder than Niagara Falls. It's incredible how the ER chemists can suck the spark out of any twosome just by making them press their lips together. It looks like a lousy kiss, and I hope one of them has the guts to refer to it as such later on in the relationship. They finish, and Susan sighs, "Carter," and for a second it sounds like she's going to dump and discourage him. He jokingly asks if she has any strange allergies, and Susan laughs, then leans in for a repeat. The second tongueless wonder is slightly less chilly than the first, but still seems rotten. They come up for air, and Carter is about to go for something deeper when he knocks over his coffee, spilling it. This is symbolic. Susan breaks away and doubles over, guffawing.
Romano bursts impatiently into the OR. An hour has passed, and Donna isn't dead yet. "How inconsiderate," he grouses. "Page me when she goes." God, the man had five lines at the most, and he's uniformly excellent. Love it. Benton spies Ray watching sadly through the OR doors, and compassionately murmurs, "Let's…just wait." As the camera pulls away from the operating table, the gang waits patiently for Donna to pass away naturally, fulfilling a broken man's wish for his dying wife.