"Wake up, Spencer."

Lucky rolled over onto his stomach, pulling the pillow over his head, to drown out the voice he had mustered up in his dreams. It had been a long, sleepless night after he got home from the hospital, but he had finally managed to fall asleep some time after the clock struck four. He was thankful that he had been given the afternoon shift, a minor reward for all the doubles he had pulled in the last year. Now, as the voice in his head called out to him, only louder this time, he couldn't help but feel disgruntled at the persistent dream.

"Spencer, wake up!"

Squinting his bright blue eyes, he peered through the harsh morning sun to one of the most ethereal, stunning images he had ever seen. Even before he sat up to wipe away sleep from his eyes, he knew that he would remember it for the rest of his life. When Lucky Spencer took his last breath, this was the picture he wanted dancing through his mind. This was the memory he wanted to cling to when he came home for good, came home to her.

With loose chestnut ringlets cascading down her back, Emily smiled back at him coyly. She bit her bottom lip as she turned away sheepishly before glancing back at him. She looked like a child who had been caught stealing from the cookie jar, a feigned innocence only she could pull off. Dressed in a flowing white silk nightgown, Lucky felt like she had been there all night. He waited for her to say something, but when she didn't, he simply moved over in the bed to make room for her. Emily took the hint and slid beneath the cool sheets beside him. It still caught him slightly off guard when he wrapped his arms around her torso and he could actually feel her warmth. It was comforting and disturbing all at once.

Resting his chin on her shoulder from behind, Lucky pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. She turned slightly to smile at him over her shoulder before nuzzling back against him. "Why didn't you give me more wake up calls like this when you were alive?" he teased before threading his fingers through hers at her hips. Emily giggled softly and shrugged. "You know what, I guess it doesn't really matter. I just know that I could wake up like this for the rest of my life."

"What if you can't?" she asked, voicing the truth that he was trying so hard to avoid. Lucky feared that there would be a day when he would wake up and she would be gone again. It had been hard enough losing her the first time, and now that they both knew how they felt about each other, it would be even more difficult to have to do it again. It was likely inevitable, but it was their reality. He was starting to hate that word, wishing instead for a world of fantasy and make believe. "We need to find out the reason for all of this, Lucky. It's the only way we can change what happens."

His father had raised him to believe that people are capable of controlling their own destinies. "Is it possible that you came back to help us solve this mystery? You weren't the first woman to die at the hands of this psychopath, and you certainly weren't the last," he retorted. "When Georgie was killed in the park and the case was linked to yours, Mac and I both knew that we were working to avenge the deaths of our girls. Maybe you came back to help us."

Emily felt at ease in Lucky's arms, a comfort that exists so readily between two lifelong friends. She didn't understand how it was possible to have fluttering butterflies dancing in her stomach if she didn't even have one to speak of. It wasn't like she got hungry or thirsty. She didn't have those same needs. However, she had all the same emotions she had the night she died – from the overwhelming sense of duty that came with loving Nikolas to the unyielding devotion she felt toward his younger brother. "I don't think that's it, Lucky," she confided. "I've tried to picture that moment, and the only thing I can tell you for sure is that it wasn't Nikolas. He was screaming at me when someone came up from behind. The man was dressed in black, and I couldn't see his face."

"Good," he replied soothingly. He traced his hands down her bare arms until they came to a rest on her wrists. Emily opened her fingers to encase them in his. She could feel his breath tickling against the back of her neck, sending chills up her spine. It seemed impossible that a ghost could have such a reaction, but she definitely felt the prickles of gooseflesh on her back. "I don't want you to remember this too quickly, so let's take it slow. Where's Nikolas?"

Closing her eyes, Emily conjured the moment of her death up in her mind. She could hear Nikolas screaming out for her just in front of her. He was laying on the ground, reaching desperately for her but unable to move. Someone is behind her, a piece of rope around her neck. She felt a sharp jab in her lower back before fading to dark. "I was pricked with something," she told him suddenly. "Nikolas was on the ground, obviously hurt from being punched. I was struggling to get away from this guy. He was trying to strangle me when I felt something just above my tailbone. Did he stab me?"

Lucky shook his head. The autopsy of Emily's body had revealed that she died from asphyxiation as a result of strangulation. There had only been a few scrapes and bruises, likely caused from the struggle that had ensued prior to her death. A true fighter, Lucky had been proud when he heard that Emily never gave up fighting for her life. It was a true memorial to the amazing woman he had always known her to be. "There wasn't any kind of puncture wound at all, Em. Are you sure that's what you felt?"

"I was almost a doctor, Spencer," she reminded him. "I had breast cancer and recuperated from paralysis after a bus accident. I was drug addict. I think I know what it feels like to be shot up with something. The man definitely injected me with something before I lost consciousness."

Shaking his head again, Lucky knew that what she was saying didn't make any sense. If there had been any kind of drugs in her system, they would have shown up when the coroner ran a toxicology screen. The medical team had been very thorough on her autopsy, carefully looking for any and all wounds. Still, he knew Emily well enough to know that when she was sure about something, there was some element of truth to it. "Then we missed something," he realized aloud. "I'm not sure how, but there is a missing piece to this story still. They didn't find any signs of drugs in your system. You barely had any alcohol in you, just a hint, probably from a glass of champagne when Nikolas made that toast. If you were injected with something, it should have shown up in your blood stream."

Rolling over to face Lucky, Emily studied his eyes for a moment. She could see now that he believed her but was perplexed by the lack of information. For a detective, there was nothing more challenging than that. "I know that it doesn't make any sense," she offered reassuringly. "I should be dead, but I don't feel dead. I felt like I was drugged, but my body says otherwise. What if everything isn't what it seems, Lucky? Is it possible that nothing is what it seems?"

Could it really be what Emily was proposing? Were they stuck in some kind of alternate universe where nothing made sense and every day was Opposite Day? It sounded more like something from one of those old science fiction movies from the 1950s that his father was so crazy about or a storybook that he would read to Cameron before bedtime. It hardly constituted any kind of real life. Then again, he was laying in bed with his dead best friend, which made no sense at all. "Your being here is proof that anything is possible," he acknowledged. "I wish I had all the answers, but I don't. I want more than anything for this to be different – for me to understand, for this to have never happened, for you to still be alive."

"That's it!" A light clicked in Emily's head and shined through her wide brown eyes. Lucky would have known that look anywhere. It was the same one she had the day she decided to go on the run with him at the ripe age of 11, and it was the same one that lit up her face when she declared that she would overcome her rape. It was one of pure, unadulterated realization. "What if I am alive still?"


After standing watch over Emily's sedated body the night before, Helena had managed to find a fitful sleep in her masters' quarters at the castle. When she woke the next morning, she was briefed by the overnight medical team who had tended to her latest round of medications and made sure that she was sufficiently fed and hydrated through the intricate system of tubes that covered her body like a road map. Helena cared little for the girl but knew that she would be of no use to her if she wasn't alive. Therefore, she made sure that she received only the best medical care, including a pair of physical therapists who worked diligently each afternoon exercising her.

Helena was about to head to town for a much-needed shopping trip to some of the more exclusive local boutiques when one of her servants stopped the town car near the iron gate. Looking every part the Greek god, she smiled deliciously to herself as the man addressed her driver. She rolled down the window and snapped at him, commanding that he come to her when a problem arises and not the help. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I run things around here," she barked. "If there is an issue, bring it to me. What good is the driver going to do?"

The servant obediently hung his head and waited for the older woman to end her latest tirade. She had many of them daily, and they were becoming more and more frequent lately. Gossip around the compound indicated that she was thinking of returning to America and was unsure what to do with the beautiful girl's almost lifeless body. The staff knew who they had to be loyal to keep their jobs – and at times their lives – but they all shared a common affection for the girl. She was held captive as they were, unable to escape the grim realities of the world the Kyria (as she was called by the staff) had created.

"Yes, of course," he retorted in stunted English, his accent so thick that she could barely comprehend his words. Slipping into his more comfortable Greek, he pressed on with the news. "The patient is beginning to wake up. The doctors have sedated her further, but nothing seems to be working. You must return at once to deal with this most grave issue."

Rolling her eyes, Helena told the driver to turn the car around and head back toward the main house. The exquisite frocks and one-of-a-kind beaded handbags would have to wait until another day. For now, she allowed herself to be guided out of the car and led back upstairs to the tower where Emily was kept. Two doctors were looking over her charts, clearly put off by her persistent reaction the meds. "What seems to be the problem?" Helena asked hastily.

"We have doubled the dosage of the drugs that bring on the coma," explained the German. "She still isn't reacting to the medication as she should. In fact, it seems to be having the exact opposite effect on her."

"Just give her more," Helena ordered without thought. She didn't understand why they needed her for these things. Common sense would answer most of their dilemmas if they would only take a few minutes to think it out. Someone of her pedigree shouldn't have to deal with such ingrates. "Take care of it."

The other doctor, a Russian who had been with the family since her children were born, frowned at her with disapproval. "If we increase the dosage anymore, the girl will surely die," he informed her. "I know that is not what you want for Emily. You gave us strict orders to keep her alive at all costs. Are you willing to risking killing her by giving her these drugs again?"

Turning away from the doctors, Helena peered through the double paned glass to her sleeping body. The last thing she needed right now was to have her conscious and risk ruining what she had worked so hard to plan. Still, the doctor was right. The plan would be of no use if she died. "What are our options?"

"The best thing I can offer right now is to heavily sedate her using another protocol," the German suggested. "She may be awake, but it is possible that she will be so out of sorts that she won't know where she is or even who she is."

"We will have someone with her at all times," the Russian chimed in. "Nothing will have to change for the time being. As her body readjusts to these drugs, we may have to alter the plan. However, hopefully we will have enough time to make those calls as they come."

"Fine," Helena relented before waving her hand dismissively. The doctors returned to Emily's room and pulled the door shut behind them. Pressing a small button hidden in the ledge of the window, she leaned against the cold glass to listen as they worked. She spoke very little German but understood enough to comprehend what they were saying. It sounded like a risk, and both of them were just praying that it would work.

Satisfied with her choice, Helena started to head for the door. She wasn't about to let something like this pesky little inconvenience ruin a perfectly glorious afternoon. Just when her hand had reached for the door knob, she heard a familiar voice call out, sending chills down her spine. Slowly, she turned back around to look back through the window. Emily was fighting against her restraints, her eyes still shut but her body defiant. "Lucky!" she called out. Helena snarled at the distasteful name, still sickened by the pathetic excuse of a man who shared DNA with her grandson. "Lucky, I'm here! Please!"

Leaning against the door jamb, she watched as the doctors sprung into action. Emily was injected with a vial of clear liquid. A nurse worked to tighten the restraints as the movements became more erratic. After a few minutes, she returned to her peaceful state. "Lucky can't save you now, Orphan Emily," Helena smirked as the doctors filled her tubes with another medication. "No one can."