A Note From Lara- I just rewatched Hysterical Blindness. Is it pathetic that just the Pemma scenes are enough to make me hyperactive through sheer elation? This sort of grew out of my current late-night, last-night-before-the-new-term, Heroes-induced state of mind.
Dr. Coolidge paused outside the rec room as the strains of a haunting melody on the piano caught her ear. She glanced through the window and spied her daughter, of all people, sitting at the bench next to a dark-haired paramedic she couldn't identify from behind. Together they played a gentle, beautiful song.
For a moment, Dr. Coolidge was nothing but confused. Her daughter was deaf, how could she be playing the piano? Then she recalled their conversations about Emma's synesthesia. Perhaps she was being guided by the colors?
At that moment, Emma glanced up at the handsome man sitting beside her. He also turned his head to look at her, a small smile curling across his face. A contented smile Dr. Coolidge hadn't seen on her daughter in years touched her pretty face as their eyes met, and the doctor could do nothing but stare. The comfortable tension between the pair of amateur musicians was palpable even from a whole room away. Just for a moment, Emma looked perfectly happy.
When had this happened? Who was he, this mystery paramedic who had the hitherto unheard-of talent of making her daughter smile? Dr. Coolidge's mind was racing in shock. Then the man turned his head to look behind him and she caught a glimpse of his face before hurrying away in an attempt to pretend she hadn't been watching them. But though she left the scene, she couldn't get it out of her head.
She vaguely recognized the man, by name at least. It was Peter Petrelli. Around the hospital, he had a reputation for being friendly but unsociable and self-isolated. He was, as far as Dr. Coolidge knew, a workaholic and extremely empathetic.
She smiled. The irony was not lost on her- the two most isolated people in New York had found a connection with each other.