Daily Show on DVD Countdown: 47 days

Moment of Zen

Jon Stewart: And off the top of the show, there was a story came out in the press yesterday that I found very intriguing…about the President's iPod. The President has an iPod…and, uh, I….I don't believe the President should have an iPod, quite frankly. I'm sorry, I don't like the idea of the President sitting at a computer…downloading songs.


SUNDAY, 2:28 AM

Even for a night shift, the ER seemed bizarrely quieted to Doug as he walked down the hallway. There was no mass fire, gang shootout, train wreck, or any other natural disaster barging through the doors, so why had he been paged?

Finally he found some doctors…actually, all the doctors, including Benton and Susan, huddled by the admit desk with their heads hung low.

A tall, thin, but very chiseled man with a goatee and a flannel t-shirt was sitting in one of the waiting chairs and peered over his bifocals to look at Doug, who was still thoroughly confused. "29 minutes and 32 seconds," he gruffed.

"I beat you", Benton mused. Doug felt he was still dreaming, and having a nightmare to boot. "What's going on, where's the victims?" Peter motioned to the assembled team of ER residents, "You're looking at 'em."

Just then Susan appeared with…Oh God, Doug moaned in his mind. Briefing manuals. She confirmed his worst fear: "Everybody, I'd like to introduce Dr – "William Swift, your new chief", the man in the plaid finished for her. "Which one of you is Chief Resident?"

Doug looked over and saw Susan pensively shrugging her shoulders and making an obvious lie. "We haven't been able to locate Dr. Greene yet", and Doug's suspicion that Susan was hiding something mounted.

"I find these drills ideal for meeting my team, and assessing how quickly the residents can mobilize," Swift began to monologue as he led his lambs down Trauma One. "Now, seeing as I have you here, I'd like to take a few moments to go over the basics of ER management."

Like the rebellious kid in the back of the class, Doug muttered under his breath, "It's 2:30 AM". Swift appeared to have the ears to match his punctuality: "Don't worry, I'll have you home by four."

This whole evening had felt very wrong to Mark, and when he finally answered the ninth page his worst fears seem to be justified. The new boss' introduction to him would be waltzing in after ditching a shift with no plausible reason. Then he'd spent all his money on Mortal Kombat and Killer Instinct. Then he'd talked to Jen earlier that day and she said she was coming back to town the next morning to discuss how many weekends he could spend with Rachel. And then there'd been Susan…he hadn't even had time to worry about that.

So when Haleh told him he had managed to be a stunning hour and 47 minutes late, he felt like he had completely hit rock bottom. He paused for the briefest of seconds to compose himself and begin the long road towards retrieving his status within the ER.

Rounding the corner he saw the staff assembled on chairs in front of a blackboard, with whoever was little the leader seminar appearing to give his farewell. The other doctors began to file out past Mark as he pushed his way up, when the white coat at the board turned around to show the face attached to it.

Now I have completely hit rock bottom, as Mark came eyeball to eyeball with the yo-yo from Doc Magoo's earlier. "Ah, Dr. Bagel, come right in."

Benton and Doug were finding it hard not to smile at Mark as they exited. "Man, you're in trouble, Wild Willie's on a tear."

"Wild Willy?" Mark turned again to introduce himself properly, "Hi, Mark Greene." This must be him, Mark thought, and man, does he look like he's about to enjoy this.

"Yeah, I've heard – William Swift, your new chief. How's the flu?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Mark swore he could see a panicked Susan trying to tell him something using pictionary gestures. He fumbled the rest of his brief meeting with the new boss.

A few minutes later, Doug caught Mark after he'd just been given the cold shoulder by Swift. He asked the rhetorical, "How'd it go?"

"I think I blew it with the new chief."

"Nah, let's just say you didn't make a strong first impression. You have to stay?"

"Nope, he sent me home."

"OK, let's get out of here before he changes his mind."

Carol trudged back down to admitting to find Susan. "Anybody going into the suture room, might want to bring some garlic."

Susan had her head buried in a chart but was quick on the draw, "Garlic is for vampires, werewolves get killed by gold bullets."

"Silver bullets, God!" Jerry corrected. They both stared at him and then went back to work.

"How's Mark?" Carol asked nonchalantly.

"Still flogging himself over that OB case. How's Tag?"

"I think Billy Idol is gonna wind up playing my wedding."

They both laughed. It had already been a long night and there were still four hours left in the shift.

"You getting excited?"

Carol sighed, "I'll be excited when it's over. I mean, being able to be with somebody shouldn't be this complicated - we shouldn't have to jump through 12 hoops and pass the Redbook litmus test in order to be considered happy. Now I know why Doug said Mark and Jen would never work."

Susan had to choke down that last sentence and not give Carol the slightest indication that anything was amiss. "What do you mean?"

"I don't even remember, Doug used to talk about it all the time when we were together, all the things he saw between Mark and Jen. Probably did it to convince himself life as an uncommitted philanderer was somehow noble."

Carol grabbed another chart and moved on without paying the matter another moment's notice. Susan rubbed her temples and then stared at the clock, wondering how she could possibly go back to concentrating on things not involving Mark Greene…

…who was mentally a million miles from Chicago at that same moment, sharing an El ride home with Doug.

The silence had been eerie to Doug's mind, as it became clear he was going to have to speak first.

"So, Mark, what do you think about Wild Willy?"

Mark was completely oblivious. "I don't know."

"Probably gonna make us do push-ups before every shift."

"Yeah…"

"Think he'll take Morganstern's recommendation and make you attending?"

"Yuh…"

Doug was growing amused, pissed, and bothered at the same time. Something would have to snap him out of it: "You know, I hear he's promoting Carter to Chief of Surgery."

Now Mark didn't offer up a courtesy reply. Just heavily-lidded eyes staring into the vast emptiness of a Chicago night.

"You getting any sleep at all?...Mark!"

"What?"

Finally, he seemed to have his friend's attention. "Nothing, you just didn't hear anything I was saying."

Mark knew it was true. The last minutes, hours, days, all seemed like blank time in his mind. He couldn't piece together what he was doing or why it mattered if he did. Doug could tell Mark needed more than just friendly advice, but it was all he had to give.

"Listen, you gotta let this OB case go. Could've happened to any one of us."

Now he knew he had Mark's attention because he sat down and stared right back at him. "If you killed a patient, you wouldn't be upset?"

"You didn't kill her Mark, you did everything you could to save her."

"Tell that to her husband…A year from now, that little boy'll be taking his first step, and his mother won't be there. His mother will never be there."

"It's not your fault Mark."

Now Mark was on a roll: "Everybody keeps saying that, you, Carol, Carter, Haleh, even Benton, Susan, who also came on to me, I don't know if I mentioned that, and why does it not…."

Mark kept rambling for a few minutes but Doug had lost the ability to hear. Did he say that Susan had come on to him? Clearly, this situation has become more complicated.

"You have to go back Mark, cause I think I'm coming down with something. Could've sworn that you just said Susan came on to you."

Mark's eyes grew wide as baseballs. "Oh God, did I say that out loud?"

Now Doug couldn't keep a smile off his face. "Yes, yes you did. Now why did you say it?"

Mark began a very meager attempt at a retreat, "Uh, well, it might have happened, I'm not real sure."

"Well, that seems to me to be a pretty binary situation, either she did or she didn't."

"It was…I don't know, it was the morning after the O'Brien case, emotions were running high, things were said…"

Doug cut him off, "And then Susan came on to you."

"I'm married."

Doug scoffed and spoke without carefully choosing his words, "And a bang-up job you've been doing on that at the moment."

Mark's eyes sank even lower, and Doug knew he'd cut into what should have been off-limits. "…That was a low blow. I'm sorry."

Mark had a terrible urge to get out of the conversation. It was too much salt in an open wound. He could feel the train slowing down and abruptly announced, "My stop."

Doug of course could tell it wasn't Mark's stop and followed him to the doors. "Listen, why don't you come over to my place, we'll talk."

Mark was still hurt and confused, not just by Doug, and was not in the mood to talk to anybody. "Oh yeah? What for?"

The doors hissed their way open and Mark stepped out on the platform, cold and worn down and alone.

The doors pulled closed and Doug Ross was left watching out onto the platform, staring at his friend. The information was slowly piecing itself together in his head, but he still wasn't sure. Concentrate, he told himself.

To Be Continued…