The gangbanger is absolutely covered in blood. He's a geyser. "This guy's got an entrance wound for every two years of his life," Carter says, amazed. They try to restart Old Faithful's heart, but it's not happening, so Carter cracks his chest. "Everybody watch your feet," he warns. Sure enough, blood somehow splashes out of the kid and onto the floor, getting onto Carter's pants. That will give Emily something to do when Kem fully takes ownership of the kitchen. Abby comes around to do internal compressions while Carter teaches the students certain incisions and makes lots of important decisions about blood and other assorted goo. Abby informs him that the heart's empty and that there's a giant hole in the left ventricle. They're going to try plugging it.
Meanwhile, little David is out cold with an arm wound. Luka's trying to fix it, but a vein's split, and they can't get anyone from Vascular to come down for a consult. Man, surgeons at this place are a bunch of assholes. Luka asks Sam for a vascular clamp. "Can you repair that?" Neela asks. "It's our best shot," Luka says, adding that if they can't restore blood flow, there's a much greater chance they'll lose the arm.
Old Faithful's still leaking, and his heart isn't beating. Carter's trying all kinds of things, oddly calmly.
Meanwhile, Luka deals with this really nasty-looking arm wound on David, and basically uses a little tube-type thing to reconnect the vein. He promises that it will hold until the vascular surgeons put away their golf clubs and show up to operate. As he stitches the tube into place, blood flows neatly through it, and Neela's face shines with admiration. "Nails are pinking up," Sam says appreciatively. "I didn't think you could do that," Neela says, delighted. As ever, Luka remains impassive, because God forbid he should actually enjoy any of these little successes.
Old Faithful is in asystole. He's basically toast, and Carter finally admits it and calls a time of death. They wheel him out, and the mess in Trauma Green is pretty disgusting. Naturally, everyone else manages to clean up and depart rather quickly, so that only Abby and Carter remain. "I'm glad you went back," he suddenly says. "To med school?" she asks, wheeling. "Yeah, me too." Carter thinks she never should've left. That's helpful, considering that I don't think she had much of a choice, financially. Carter's so sensitive. "Timing is everything, right?" Abby chuckles hollowly. Carter looks at her and laughs, prompting her to wonder what he thinks is so amusing. "You...seem happy," he says, some wonderment on his face. "Right back at you," she replies. "So we're okay?" Carter asks immediately. Oh, like her current happiness erases the fact that you dumped her in prose that a dead cat could've written better? Stuff it, dickwing. Abby looks at him, and her face shines a little with something resembling pride as she answers honestly, "We're okay." I guess being elbow-deep in a gangbanger's gushing, draining chest makes people have forgiving epiphanies. I hope never to find this out first-hand. Carter exhales and teases that he's glad, because he and Kem wanted her to go grab some dinner with them later. Shut up, Carter. You're not charming. Abby snorts. "We're not that okay," she says. Carter grins and takes his leave. Abby watches him leave and does seem totally fine. She's a better woman than I am.