Soon, Dr. Swan is finished with questioning Mr. Petrelli about his job keeping Mr. Deveaux comfortable as he died. She still refuses to look up at Mr. Petrelli in fear that she'd lose face and will seem very unprofessional. She also didn't want to give him any false hope that he'd get a good review. Anyways, she gets up from her chair to shake his hand and to thank him. When they clasp hands, Mr. Petrelli smiles again and she sees it. The urge to smile back was too great to suppress it totally, and a little joy flows into her eyes, making them sparkle. He spots them, along with the corners of her mouth slightly turned up.
"Thank you, Mr. Petrelli, for your time," she says to him, making eye contact with him and trying to make her face as emotionless as possible. "You will receive your review within a week."
"You're welcome, Doctor," he replies, looking into her eyes. Releasing her hand, he runs his fingers through his dark hair. Cocking his head to the side in curiosity, he asks her, as she hurries to the door, "You don't smile much, do you?"
The question catches Dr. Swan off guard. She stops on the threshold of the bedroom and lays a hand on the doorframe to steady herself. She turns to face Mr. Petrelli again, a skeptical look on her face. "What makes you say that?" she asks him.
He shrugs, a grin creeping onto his face. "This whole time you've been holding back," he says. "You want to, but you feel embarrassed and unprofessional."
Shock appears on her face, but she quickly covers it. He had not only caught her hiding her smiles, but accurately guessed what she was feeling as he beamed down at her. From just interviewing Mr. Petrelli, she had found that he is very empathetic and caring, with a heart of love and generosity. But, that pales in comparison to his ability to identify exactly how she felt. It was slightly scary, in a way.
She wants to say something back, to make him quiver in his own boots, but he stands there in front of her, smiling and so innocent. She opens her mouth to say something, but that is when Mr. Deveaux wakes up.
"Peter, son," he says, his voice husky and frail. "Did I fall asleep again? I'm sorry."
"That's alright, Mr. Deveaux," Mr. Petrelli replies, taking his eyes off of Dr. Swan. "You need your rest anyways."
"Oh, you're too good to me," Mr. Deveaux replies. He notices the doctor standing, shocked, in the doorway. "Who is this, Peter?"
"My boss, I guess," he replies, looking up at Dr. Swan and shrugging, giving another crooked smile. She blushed a deep crimson. "She's come to see how I'm doing."
"Oh, no need to do that," Mr. Deveaux says as Mr. Petrelli checks his medications. "You're going a fine job, Peter, son." His eyes, which had shifted his gaze slowly from Mr. Petrelli to Dr. Swan, now rest on her. "I assume you want to chat with me, Doctor?"
"Y-yes," she stutters. "That would be nice."
Mr. Deveaux nods. "Peter, why don't you take a break while the doctor and I chat?" Mr. Petrelli nods and leaves the room. He has to pass by Dr. Swan, and as he does so, he gives her a sympathetic smile, making her blush more. Mr. Deveaux chuckles softly and she turns to face him, a look of surprise on her face.
"What's so funny?" she asks him. He shakes his head as he tries to stop laughing, but begins to cough. The doctor moves to help him, but he lays a hand on her arm, stopping her.
"I'm fine, dear," he says when he stops coughing. "I'm laughing because he is trying so hard to make you smile, to make you comfortable. That is his talent."
Dr. Swan gives him a confused look. "I don't understand."
Mr. Deveaux smiles like a father would smile for a young child. "While you have the ability to heal people, Peter has the ability to feel someone's emotions and then he would try to help them," he explains. He looks into her eyes. "We are all special, just different."
"So," she says, trying to change the subject. "Can I take that as good word for Mr. Petrelli?"
Mr. Deveaux smiles and nods. "He might not be as great as a doctor as you are, Isabella dear, but he does try hard to do his best at what he can do."
Dr. Swan's eyes widen in surprise. "How do you know my first name?" she asks.
He smiles again. "Anyone who reads your books or gives your name to their friends knows it," he replies. "But, I find that calling someone by their respected title is not a personal as calling them by the name they were given. And also, Isabella is such a pretty name."
She blushes. "Thank you, Mr. Deveaux," she says, getting up and holding out a hand. "I wish you the best."
He grasps her hand in both of his and holds it for a moment. "Look out for him, will you?" he asks. "He is such a good boy that he can be oblivious of what is happening around him."
Dr. Swan nods. "I will try, Mr. Deveaux."
He smiles one last time and release her hand. As she turns to leave, he says "Believe in the impossible, Isabella. Sometimes the possible is too foggy to trust." She pauses at the doorway, trying to understand what he means, but feels that she must leave. She feels like Mr. Deveaux had seen something inside her that she wanted to hide, like the dreams, and she is scared. What if Mr. Petrelli could see it, too, whatever was inside her?
Suddenly, she closes her eyes drifts off into a trance. She tries to fight it, but it envelopes her in its soft warm arms. She rips open her eyes to find herself in Mr. Deveaux's room. But she wasn't at the doorway; she was lying in bed, facing the French doors. She felt heavy and weak and looked down at her hands to find that they were old and wrinkled, as well as liver spotted and dark skinned. In her arms are IVs and there is a tube running down her windpipe. She almost shrieks as she discovered she was in Mr. Deveaux's mind. She tries to get out of it by closing his eyes, but couldn't. Panicking, she tries to ease the pain that his body has. It is a dull, throbbing pain in his chest, which flickers on and off, slowly bring him closer to death. She calms her mind, concentrating on soothing thoughts. Slowly, the pain subsides and eventually shrinks to a soft pressure on his chest. And, just as quickly as she had slipped into Mr. Deveaux's mind, she slips out, finding herself breathless, but back in her own body. Dr. Swan sighs in relief and sneaks a peek at Mr. Deveaux. His eyes are closed and he is breathing more easy. He seems more comfortable than before and there is a rosiness in his cheeks that wasn't there before. He sighs gratefully and says "Thank you, Isabella." Scared, she flees.
She hurries to the kitchen to find Simone alone, making tea. She seems slightly surprise when Dr. Swan walks in.
"You're done already?" she asks, reaching for the tea pot and pouring another cup for the doctor.
"Just about," Dr. Swan replies. "I just need to get some remarks from you and I will be done."
Simone nods and gestures for her to sit down at the table. The two women both sit and sip on tea as Dr. Swan asks about Mr. Petrelli. "He is very kind to my father," Simone says, cupping her mug in her hands. "It has done him much good to have Peter around."
"And how does Mr. Petrelli treat you?" Dr. Swan asks, taking notes.
Simone then does the strangest thing. She was answering the questions with a curt kindness before, but now she hesitates and blushes slightly. "Um," she says, putting a hand to her face. "Fine. He treats me very kindly." Dr. Swan notices this and sees that Mr. Petrelli had a similar, if not identical, affect on Simone as he had on her. She does not take note of it, but finds Mr. Deveaux's statements about Peter to be some what true. He did have a way of making people feel more comfortable in their own skins, along with feeling what they felt.
At this, she decides that she is finished. Dr. Swan gets up from the table and thanks Simone for her time and the tea. Simone shakes her hand in turn and leads her to the door. As she opens it, letting Dr. Swan out into the hall, she pauses a moment before closing it. As she dose, the sleepiness creeps back onto Dr. Swan and again she finds herself fighting the darkness. Opening her eyes, she sees herself standing in the hallway, exhausted looking. Again, she is not in her own body; as Simone, her head aches slightly, but grief grips her heart because of her father's failing health. Dr. Swan desperately wants to be back in her own body and at home, where she could stay out of people's heads and feel safe. She sooths Simone's headache, thinking calmly about how to get out of her head. Slowly, as Simone's pain upsides, Dr. Swan slips out of her mind, leaving her with her own headache. Now that she thought about it, she had a dull pain throbbing in her chest, like Mr. Deveaux had. Back in her own body, she stumbled slightly down the hall.
"Are you alright?" Simone asks as Dr. Swan steadies herself.
"I do hope so," Dr. Swan replies and heads to the elevator. "Thanks again, Simone."
"Do you want me to get you a cab?" Simone asks.
"No, I'm fine, really," she replies and presses the "down" button on the elevator. Slowly, Simone closes the door behind her as the elevator arrives and Dr. Swan gets in. On the way down, the mirrors on the walls of the elevator show her to be pale and weak. Also, the bumps on her back were bigger than before. She almost screams, but instead falls to the floor of the elevator, panicking. Everything is going wrong. The room is spinning and as the elevator reaches the bottom floor, it is hard for Dr. Swan to exit. Quickly, she returns her visitor's pass to the front desk and charges out the glass doors to hail a cab. When one arrives, she stutters out her address and waits to arrive. She feels her forehead; it's hot with a fever. She feels very sick, but doesn't know why.
The cabbie pulls up at her apartment and turns around, expect her to pay him. She thanks him and hurriedly stuffs the money into his hand. She burst out of the car, scaring the driver.
"Hey, you alright, lady?" he asks her as she goes up the front steps.
"Fine," she manages to get out, but she feels the exact opposite.
Getting into her apartment, she finds it empty. Running to the bathroom, she starts to strip off her clothes. She gets in front of the mirror and twists to see her back.
She screams. On her back are what seems to be two small arms growing out from where her shoulder bonds are. They have no hands attached to the ends, but something like a second joint that came to a point at the end. They are a fleshy pink in color and itch a hell of a lot. Dr. Swan tries to reach and touch them, but they move and extend out of reach. She screams again.
"What are they?" she screams into the empty apartment, still trying to reach back and rip them off. She wrestles with herself, trying to get at them. Suddenly, her head hits the shelf behind her and she falls to the floor. Her vision slowly going blacker and blacker, she wants to scream out again, but she is swallowed up in the soft, muted darkness of unconsciousness.