He lies down behind her, awkwardly spooning on the cot, and they cuddle. She has five minutes: "Gonna set my watch." She takes his hand and places it softly, and implacably, on her left breast. It's not about sex and it's not about power: it's about touching. He holds her, tenderly, and offers her "a little something" for her back. "That's sweet. I'm okay." She blinks and smiles sadly at herself, the way her heart leapt and grinned at her when he said that. It takes almost five seconds to turn it around.
"You know what, maybe a little oxy?" She's unimpressed with herself; closes her eyes. Then it's later: major trauma coming in over the PA; she snorts the oxycontin and then it's later, a woman on a gurney covered in blood. There's a guy, cutting up hookers in the back of a limo. "Why'd he have to cut me so bad?" the lady asks, and Jackie gently puts the oxygen mask back over her mouth and nose. The paramedic tells her to be on the lookout for Vincent Van Gogh, as the woman drowsily holds a hand up toward Jackie's face; at first she wants to brush it away but then it opens like a flower: perched on the woman's palm is an ear, just like St. Peter in Gethsemene. "Good girl," Jackie nearly shouts, handing it off to Zoey as they gurney thunders toward Trauma.
Zoey stands in the middle of the hallway, vibrating silently with a monster's ear in her hand, just long enough for another nurse in passing to see it -- "Nice!" -- before Jackie calls back over her shoulder: "Puke away from the ear, Zoey!" She does her best, delicately holding it out behind her in a barfing arabesque à la hauteur just past the proscenium of the nurse's station. God, she's adorable.
Nuns! Drink. Jackie sits on a bench in the chapel wing with Elenor, who profanes Manolo Blahnik. Jackie tries Elenor's shoes on, standing up and laughing when Elenor says what size they're meant to be: that's the size Jackie usually wears. She sits down again, with her pounding feet and her friend in the hall, and a woman goes by on a gurney, screaming wildly. When she's gone, they realize they're famished, and set out for lunch.
"Dr. Cooper grabbed my tit today," Jackie says over their meal. "Did your tit make the first move?" Elenor suggests in the sophisticated, blasé way she does everything. They laugh about the Tourette's excuse, and Jackie starts in about how he's incompetent, dangerous, killed a bike messenger... Elenor laughs at Jackie, calling her a tattletale, and orders more bread. "What do you doctors have against healing people, for Christ's sake?" Elenor doesn't skip a beat: "Yeah, see that, that right there: healing, helping, fixing. Fantastic. That's why you're a nurse. When I was a little girl, I took a butter knife and opened up a dead bunny to see how it worked. That's why I'm a doctor."