Weaver breaks the news that Dizzy's father died in the OR. "I need to see him," Dizzy gasps, sobbing and fleeing the waiting room. The cop catches her, trying to cuff her and read her rights. "It was an accident!" she screams. "We only had a couple glasses of wine!" She's weeping now, gasping for air and pretty much inhaling all nearby scenery. Weaver tries valiantly to soothe her and get the cop off her case. "Let her say goodbye," Weaver pleads. Dizzy screams some more, so the cop finally relents and releases her long enough to let her bid Alan's body farewell.

Valium Villa is quiet, for once. Mark announces that he got Ella's diaper culture, and put it in the fridge. I assume she's being tested for possible infection as well, given that she suckles potentially tainted breast milk. Mark assures her he triple-bagged the diaper. "Did I hear the phone ring?" he asks, worried. He did not. Rachel hasn't called, and was due home ages ago; Mark didn't think to get Claire's last name, so he can't call her parents to find out where the hell his daughter is. Elizabeth reads him the riot act, but calmly, claiming that he needs to think of these things. He's such a dope. I think his "brain tumor" was actually just a large mass of common sense that revolted, pissed at being underused for so many years and anxious for liberation. Mark thought that talking to the parents was sensible, but Elizabeth rightly points out that it does them no good if Mark doesn't even know where Rachel is. "I told you about the party," says Rachel, having quietly entered from the kitchen. She's two hours and fifteen minutes late, for which Mark tries to scold her. It seems Andrew brought her home; the food at the party didn't meet with her fancy because she's a vegetarian, so "some of us" went out to grab a meal after it ended. Mark manages to deduce that "some of us" probably means "Rachel and Andrew." Annoyed, Rachel whines, "Dad!" Mark counters that he needs to know such things. Rachel snarks that he sounds exactly like Vulcan Jen. That shuts Mark up fast. Rachel insists that she's just innocently making friends, not drinking or doing drugs or otherwise endangering herself. "All you had to do was call!" Mark scolds. "I tried," lies Rachel. "The pay phone was broken." Mark is silent. That's a classic lie, and an easy one. Plus, even if Rachel lacks a mobile phone, there's no way that all of her supposed new friends wouldn't have one between them. Rachel takes it a step further, assuming that Mark won't call her bluff. "If you don't believe me, call the restaurant!" she says. Oh, this girl is a master manipulator. Mark grimly seethes that she must not let this happen again. Rachel figures that this is a good time to prod him, noting that if she had a cell phone, this whole catastrophe could've been averted. "Yeah, right," Mark snorts. She persists, claiming that it would be ideal for emergencies. "We'll see," he says. Her face alight because she knows she's won, Rachel creeps around and hugs her father angelically. Feh. Go away, hell child.