Daily Show on DVD Countdown: 32 days

Moment of Zen

Jon Stewart: Reclusive filmmaker Osama bin Laden's much-anticipated "October Surprise": his first new video in 18 months. Bin Laden refrained from endorsing Bush or Kerry, though he said of Bush's conduct on 9/11, "He was more interested in listening to the child's story about the goat than worry about what was happening to the towers." First of all, F&K BIN LADEN. Second of all, that 'My Pet Goat' reference suggest bin Laden had screened Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11. Bin Laden then upped the pop culture ante by noting, "I'm Rick James, bitch!"...Apparently he just sits around watching TV...I really don't like that man.

Every time Mark and Susan passed each other in the hallway was an adventure. It seemed like during the last three weeks, they seemed to be finding ways to bump into each other, or even run each other over. And yet for all the contact they'd been experiencing, there was an icy distance between them.

The toughest part for both of them is how little it seemed to be interfering. Susan felt like this was something which would be pounding in her head and blaring a siren throughout the workplace. It shocked both of them that they seemed to compartmentalize so well.

And with Mark handling Jen, Susan handling Chloe, and a full docket of emergencies to handle both of them, there simply wasn't time for any heart-to-hearts. At least not yet.

With springtime came the rain, beating down one night as Mark hustled into the Admit Desk and flagged down Doug.

"So listen, this woman, came in with the dog bite, I think she was hitting on me."

Doug chuckled, "That's been known to happen."

"Not to me!" Mark protested.

Doug smirked and decided the best approach was the scientific method. "She smile at you?"

"Yes", Mark droned.

"Play with her hair?"

"Uh-huh."

"Touch you?"

"On my arm."

"She was hitting on you."

Mark rolled his eyes and Doug once again had to fight off the impulse to laugh hysterically.

"Geez, I hope I'm not sending out a signal or something…" Mark moaned as they continued to walk down the hallway. "Ya know, me and Jen…"

Doug cut his buddy off, "Well, you're moody right now and women like to save moody men."

As if on cue, "MARK!" Susan yelled out. "GSW to the chest." As she hurriedly handed Mark a gown and led him down to Trauma Two, Mark turned back to Doug, who raised his eyebrows and cocked his head; as if to say, See what I mean?

15 minutes later, Mark was pacing in the lounge, collecting his thoughts. He felt somewhat silly, since he'd have the whole train ride to reanalyze everything he was planning to say. How had his marriage crumbled on him so fast? It didn't seem like all that long ago that they had been happy newlyweds.

Mark was snapped out of his romanticism by Jerry: "Dr. Greene, you got time to follow up on that back pain in 3?"

"Yeah", Mark said as he threw on his coat.

Susan was fiddling with her notepad, jotting down orders in her head and praying Chloe had set the apartment on fire. She looked up at the sound of the lounge door opening and saw Mark walking back down the hall with a chart in his hands.

"Where are you going?"

"Just one last check-in, patient in 3."

Susan grabbed his wrist. "No, you've gotta make the train. 7:30 to Milwaukee, remember?"

Mark stared at her for a moment, his mind wandering. "Yeah…I…you're right, I gotta get going."

He turned himself around and left the chart in the rack outside curtain 3.

"You think this is a mistake?"

Susan shook her head. "So Swift is a tight-ass, big deal. You don't make attending that's one thing, you screw up your marriage that's something else."

"Sometimes I think it was screwed a long time ago."

"Don't say that."

"It's what everybody else around here thinks, right?"

They both stopped.

Susan wanted to tell him something, anything, that would sound true. She certainly didn't want to tell him what she felt was true.

"Well, ya know, people talk…"

She saw Mark droop his head.

"But nobody's doubting you, Mark. You're a great father, you're a great husband, and a great doctor. The trifecta."

As soon as she stopped speaking, Susan realized how informal her words were becoming. How the 'concerned colleague' approach was slowly filtering out of her and being replaced by...she couldn't quite describe what it was.

Mark, for his part, seemed oblivious. "Thanks, Susan. I mean, you know, this last two months, the attending job, Mrs. O'Brien, all that…thanks for being a great friend."

Susan smiled weakly, masking her true intentions, as Mark began walking again toward Admit.

"Think I can make the station in 38 minutes?" He asked, glancing at his watch.

"It'll be fine, Mark."

"Hmph, this'll be the night Amtrak goes on strike." Susan rolled her eyes and then saw him breeze past the door to stand in front of the board again.

"Hollison in Room Six, watch him, he's got hypocalcemia…" Susan now had to physically push him towards the exit as he continued to reel off patient rounds, "Girl in Four, orbital fracture from softball, that back pain in three, could be herniated d—"

"Mark!" Susan snapped firmly, finally getting him to stop. She smiled warmly and said, "I can read the board."

Once again, Mark felt very stupid, trying micro-manage the place. Susan was more than capable of operating in his absence, he told himself.

Just then, for a fleeting moment, he caught her eyes and could swear she was trying to him something other than her ability to read the patient complaints. Like she was trying to reach him, not as simply another doctor, but…

STOP, Mark thought. Train. Milwaukee. Loveless marriage which must be saved. Walk away.

"Bye", he said softly as he turned out into the downpour.

Susan watched him go, keeping the things she wanted so much to say inside. Which is where they belong, she mentally reminded herself. To the average passerby she would have seemed to be in a haze of some kind, simply loitering the hallway of a hospital.

"You have to stop doing that." Doug Ross' voice made Susan jerk and catch her breath.

"Huh?"

"You heard me." Doug smiled ruefully as he walked towards the desk.

"What are you talking about?" Susan's shook her head, clearing out the cobwebs before scoffing, "Isn't there some 4-year old with an earache you need to be saving?"

"As a matter of fact, there is. I'm off."

Doug flipped a chart in his hands as he turned a corner, but shouted out, "You need to stop doing that."

Susan then watched him walk away, not with content but with confusion. Why couldn't things in her life simply make sense? And what the heck was Doug talking about?

To Be Continued...