Susan is loitering at the front desk when Carter re-enters the ER. She exposits that the victim must've turned his head just as the blast hit him, but will probably be fine. She glosses over the part where he'll also be hideously disfigured. "How are you?" Carter asks gently. "Ask me tomorrow," Susan says tightly, but with a small grin. As she exits, she pauses to gaze at The Letter, smoothes it, and adds two thumbtacks to the bottom so that A Hero's Last Chicken Scratches will be pinned onto our hearts forever.
Up in the suture room -- where Al lies for no reason since he's getting no sutures -- Carter perches by the bedside of his new patient. "I heard you were gone," Al says laboriously. "No, I'm here," Carter says cheerfully. "Good. You know I don't like nobody else helping me," Al murmurs. Carter slowly realizes that Al thinks he's Mark, and miraculously stops short of throwing himself out the window. Instead, he groans a bit and gulps. "I know," he whispers. "You've always treated me like a man," continues Al with effort. Man, it takes Al thirty seconds to cough up seven words. Put a rush on it, pal. Carter comforts him. "I could've been a better person," Al whimpers. "I could've done more." Carter tearfully chokes, "You did enough," and agrees to stay with Al as he slowly dies. He clasps the old man's hand and closes his eyes, fatigued. He already hates life as Mark.