Outside, Pam gives Finch the bullet on a seven-year-old girl struck in a crosswalk by a pickup truck. Oh, dude. They pull her gurney out, and Finch asks her name, which is Amy. Amy asks where her mom is, and Pam says she's in the next ambulance. Lisa asks Amy to take a breath, and Finch asks whether Amy's stomach hurts. Amy says it doesn't, and asks whether her dad's okay; Finch promises that they'll find out once they've taken care of her. Finch calls out orders for a chest tube; we hear another ambulance pull up behind them.

In another part of the ambulance bay, a short Latino paramedic gives Weaver the bullet on Julie Hembree, thirty-two, who I'm going to guess is Amy's mother. Weaver asks about the father, but he was DOA at the scene. Weaver and Carter catch up to Julie's bed, where she's asking after her husband, and after Amy. Carter touches her chest, and she winces; he diagnoses a possible rib fracture. Weaver calls that she needs an ultrasound, and they push their way inside.

Upstairs, Elizabeth -- now in scrubs -- walks toward the desk and starts cooing over an enormous flower arrangement sitting there. The nurse tells her it's a good thing she likes them, since they're for Elizabeth. She fishes out the card and reads it, smiling. "From Dr. Greene?" asks the nurse; they are. Now, why didn't we get to see that touching, life-affirming scene, in which Mark manfully struggles, despite his invalid state, to heft a phone book onto a table, flick through the pages to find just the right florist that speaks to him and his new outlook on life, bravely dial the unfamiliar number, carefully remove his credit card from his wallet, and choke out the number: "Four...five...one...[the Timpani of Imminent Trauma begin to sound] I'm sorry! I'm going to have to...call...you...back!! Augh!" Anyway. The nurse picks up the phone as Elizabeth continues gazing at her flowers, and tells Elizabeth that they need her in the ER. "On my way!" chirps Elizabeth, and makes for the elevator. The doors glide open and Roseanne Roseannadanna and a whole bunch of other people pour out, leaving a man in a wheelchair (wearing street clothes) alone in the back. Elizabeth stops dead, as we can practically hear the air hissing out of the balloon of her good mood, because the man is, of course, Mr. Patterson, of "The Case of the Sidelined Surfer" fame. She manages to yelp his name; he looks nearly as surprised to see her there as she is to see him. She asks what he's doing there, and he tells her, duh, he's there to see her. She stammers an apology that she's been called to the ER and can't talk (a convenient excuse that happens to be true -- the very best kind!), and he politely offers to ride down with her. The elevator doors close, and he swivels his chair so that he's facing her. She murmurs, "Please allow me to say that I feel terrible about what's happened." He clips, "Which part? Me being crippled, or you getting sued for malpractice?" She looks down and throatily replies, "My concern is for your situation, not mine," and I believe her. "Yeah. Doesn't really compare, does it?" he asks quietly, adding, "Strange how it all comes down to faulty equipment. [Elizabeth's face betrays her a bit] My lawyer tells me I can't really blame you, but I can't quite forgive you, either. Imagine I'll always remember your face." The elevator comes to a stop with a ding, and just as the doors open, Mr. Patterson muses, "I wonder if you'll remember mine." As soon as the elevator doors open, people are calling Elizabeth's name, and Conni steps forward to put a yellow gown on her, telling her she's needed right away. As Conni gowns her, Elizabeth says -- as sincerely as one could, under the circumstances, "Mr. Patterson, I'm really sorry." "Go, go," says Mr. Patterson stoically. "I'm so sorry!" she repeats. "Please! You have people to maim! Now, off you get!" he tells her. Not. Really, he rolls off, his jaw set.