A doctor comes down from genetics and asks a few questions about the CF kid. Chuny sticks her head in to announce that the kid's father has arrived. Mark asks Peter if he's "got this," and when Peter says yes, Mark goes next door and asks Carol, "Any more contractions?" No, she says. Mark urges her to get off her feet for awhile; Carol protests that she's fine, except that the twins keep using her bladder "as a soccer ball." Mark suggests that she "back off the big traumas" and take it a little slower, and Carol says she doesn't need Mark worrying about her, and Mark -- sort of tactlessly, in my opinion -- says, "Somebody's got to worry about you," and Carol mock-glares at him and announces, "I've gotta pee." Yeah, me too. If only I could wriggle out from under The Grand Piano Of Difficult-Birth Foreshadowing and get to the bathroom . . .

Peter goes out to talk to the CF kid's father and brother, explaining that Ben has an excellent chance of survival, but he'll need surgery. The father, Mr. Hearn, asks if he and Brother Hearn should donate blood, and Peter explains that they need to operate immediately, and they'll use a cell saver to give Ben's own blood back to him, but should they need any extra, their blood supply has been screened; Mr. Hearn would rather Ben get their blood than that of "some stranger." Peter asks Chuny to type and screen the Hearns.

At Doc Magoo's, Brassy apologizes for not returning Carter's calls, and for standing him up. I don't quite see what she has to apologize for -- besides, of course, her miserable acting -- since she did ask him several times to leave her alone, but anyway, across the table, Noah Wyle tries to arrange his face in a lovelorn shape but winds up just looking headachey. Brassy says, while doing a weird half-parrying half-hand-holding thing with Carter's hand, that she needed some time to sort things out; she clutches the neckline of her coat tighter around her. In the background, Smokey Robinson sings, "And maybe you'll go away and never call / And a taste of love is worse than none at all." Hey, I don't get that. Oh, wait. I do. I GET IT. Jesus. Carter asks dourly if she succeeded in sorting things out, and she knits her brows and says, "I think so," and she tells Carter he doesn't have to worry about her anymore. Carter asks about her follow-up in the same dour tone, and Elaine says she's seeing a plastic surgeon the next Wednesday, and after that, "I'm thinking about going to Europe." "For how long?" Carter asks. Elaine says she doesn't know, a couple of months, maybe, "just to do a little soul-searching." Well, Elaine, if you find a clue in there, please don't hesitate to FedEx it back to the States, because Carter seems to need one pretty badly; he puckers his face and says, "So this is goodbye." Elaine sighs, "This is thank you. For everything." Carter's gaze doesn't leave her face. Elaine scoots out of the booth, kisses him condescendingly on the forehead, and starts to leave. Carter, who has obviously gotten "caring and attentive" confused with "obsessive and desperate," asks her if she'll call him when she gets back, and Elaine dismisses him with, "I'll send you a postcard." One printed with a restraining order, I hope, or I would hope so if I cared about this subplot, which I don't, because the writers have not bothered to develop this so-called relationship, or Carter's so-called feelings for Elaine, in any way at all, choosing instead to fly over my apartment building in a cargo plane and drop yet another anvil through my roof.