Previously on ER: Whatever. And also, feh.
The small gray blob of a new fetus throbs inside a womb, as seen by ultrasound. We get a tight shot of Dr. Kerry Weaver announcing, "There he is. See the heartbeat?" The woman with her is confused. She just sees a gray blob. As the camera pulls out, we're treated to the alarming reality that Useless Confused Wench is the doctor treating Kerry, meaning it's slightly off that she can't read an ultrasound. The gray-blob baby, then, is Kerry's. I wonder who the father is. Because going solely on resemblance, the Weaver fetus -- the Weavus -- in its current state looks a bit like Mark. Useless Confused Wench, M.D., notes Kerry's pronoun choice and asks if she's hoping for a boy. "Not particularly," Weaver says serenely, smiling adoringly at Weavus. "A boy would be nice, but I don't care. I don't even really want to know." They agree that having a healthy baby overrides the importance of the penis vs. vagina debate. Kerry is glowing.
Dr. Jing-Mei "Deb" Chen treats a patient while med students Gallant and Erin Harkins observe. She's quizzing them, and they reply with animated competitiveness, each jumping on the question in the hope of scoring the first right answer. I believe the polite word for Erin is "perky." Gallant looks a mixture of amused and annoyed. "Settle down," Chen smirks. "This is a teaching hospital, not Medical Jeopardy." Dr. Susan Lewis enters tiredly and crabs that she can't find any doctors. "Carter's stuck in triage, Pratt's on at midnight, and Weaver's MIA," reports Chen. "What else is new," mutters Susan. "Kovac is sleeping," Chen offers. "With who [sic]?" Susan spits. Not me, that's for damn sure, and don't think I haven't noticed, Goran. Can't you fight for us? Chen bites back a laugh, expositing that Luka's back from his fleeting suspension and is cat-napping in the lounge. Meow, baby. Susan invites Erin to assist in casting a cranky old lady's fracture. "Sure," Erin says too quickly. Chen fires off a question at Gallant, which Erin answers as she exits the room. Gallant shakes his head.
The old woman they're casting is not so much cranky as she is clammy. As in, an ex-woman. She'd deader than a parrot nailed to its perch. "I need a crash cart in here!" Susan yells futiley. A young nun enters. "Sister Beth?" she asks, worried. "She was a nun?" Erin gasps, as if nuns don't die in her teacher's-pet world. "Oh boy," Susan mutters. We fade to black hoping that this show crosses over with The Simpsons so that Ned Flanders's Satan can deliver some fiery redemption.