By the time Jason returns, Swann is well enough to be sitting up in bed. She'd remained calm when he seemed to take so long coming back, when she knew he should be off work, and she didn't text him at all, not wanting to draw any further comparisons to his mother, which was something he always seemed eager to spit at.

But no one can receive a text message that vague and not be concerned, not try to get more information. She'd shot back a few messages -- what happened?, followed by Jason?, with the follow up of Jason??? Jason please. She accepted after the third that he wasn't going to respond, for whatever reason, and she had to quickly pop several prescription antacids to keep herself from falling back into sickness.

She's scouring news sites for any possibly relevant articles when he falls onto the bed. She reaches for him with concern, her brow knit deeply, her hands open to cradle his jaw so she can see his cheek.

"Oh my god, Jason, what happened to you?!"