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The woman groaned as she propped her stockinged feet up on the table in front of her.
"Coffee?"
She shook her head and rested her head on the back of the couch. "Nothing thanks."
Simon laughed as he walked into the kitchen to make himself a cup.
"I think you need some sleep, Em."
She shook her head once more and took her feet off the table, preparing to stand. "What I need is a bath." She murmured drowsily.
Simon watched as the tall, graceful woman stood and walked (very slowly) across the luxurious apartment to towards the master bedroom. A few minutes later he heard water running and when she came back out, her face was hot with embarrassment. She gestured to the bath, to him, and then right back to the bath.
"I'm sorry, Simon, I hope you don't mind."
He chuckled and held up his hands. "It's your apartment. I should probably be going back home as well."
"No, Simon, stay." She insisted. "The guestroom has finally been fully furnished and there's no reason why you shouldn't."
"I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable or as if I am intruding."
Emily smiled. "Simon, you are one of my closest friends. Now how can you intrude when I'm inviting you."
"I'm perfectly capable of going back to my own home." He protested.
"But then you can't give me your famous foot massages."
The man threw his head back and laughed. "And is that the reason for all of this?"
She sighed, exasperated and turned back towards the bedroom. "I'll have to resort to a bribe...Stay and I'll make you breakfast in the morning."
"Now that would be a reason for me to go!" He called after her. When he received no response, he turned and hurried to retrieve his cup of coffee.
After taking his time and finishing his hot beverage, he walked down the hallway to the guest bedroom. Stepping inside, he was surprised at how beautifully decorated it was-so much different from the last time he had been there. The walls had been painted forest green and the dark oak furniture contrasted it wonderfully. The bedspread made up an interesting pattern of various dark colors and when removing the matching heavy drapery, one would see a gorgeous view of the city.
Hung around the walls were various paintings depicting Emily's interests. One type that he would see often in her apartment was Degas' ballerina paintings. They were ones she favored, he knew.
The paintings weren't the only personal touches in the room. No, there were many things that would give a stranger a hint as to who the intriguing woman was. There were pictures, for example. Many pictures in various types of frames were on the dressers and the nightstand.
Simon's gaze swept over them, lingering on one in particular. Three people filled the first one, and as it wasn't dusty like some of the others, he knew that she took great care of it. He could make out a younger version of Emily standing behind an older woman in a wheelchair, her hand placed lovingly on the woman's shoulder. Next to her was a gentleman in a leather jacket with his arm around her shoulders.
Setting the picture down, he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it onto the back of a chair. Hearing light footsteps coming down the hall, he turned around to see Emily stop at the door to the room.
"Feeling better?" Simon asked the woman with a slight laugh in his voice.
Emily nodded and walked in further. "Much better." She lay down next to him on the bed as he began to massage her feet.
"I was looking at your pictures." He said.
"Oh?"
He nodded. "Yeah, who's that in the gold frame?"
She looked over his shoulder so that she could see the picture, and then sank back down to the pillow. "That's Jason, my brother and Lila, my grandmother."
"What about the rest of your family? Why weren't they in that picture."
"Because that one was..."she paused, searching for the right word, "it was special. Jason hated the Quartermaines-all except for me and Lila. We took that when no one but the house maids were around. It's the one that I cherish most."
"Why keep it in this room?"
She kept silent for so long, that Simon thought that she hadn't heard the question.
"Lila died three years ago." She finally said. "It still hurts."
And he needed no further explanation. He continued to massage her feet and when he turned to look at her, he saw that her eyes were closed. Smiling to himself, he gently lifted her off of the bed and carried her down the hall to her room. He pulled the covers over her and smoothed back her hair.
" Merci", he heard her whisper drowsily, her eyes still closed.
He smiled and closed the door behind him as he walked out. "No Em, thank you."
She hardly felt herself being lifted into Simon's strong arms; she hardly felt him pulling the covers up over her shoulders as her head hit the soft feather pillows. Sleep came and took her to her dreams in an instant.
And in her dreams she was singing, singing at the Opera House as she had never sang before. Her voice was clear and true, hitting every note perfectly. And she wondered how this was as she had never heard the song before. The slow song was filled with so much emotion that it would bring tears to the eyes of even the most macho man there was. Then she stopped singing, allowing the piano music to take over. It was as soothing as a lullaby, as emotional as a first heartbreak.
And then she was awakening, the dream vanishing from her thoughts. Opening her eyes, she glanced at the clock to see that it read two in the morning. She flipped the lamp on beside her, trying to erase the last lingering traces of the dream from her mind...but the music played on. And it wasn't just in her mind.
She glanced around her room in confusion, trying to pinpoint exactly where the music was coming from. Her compact disc player that stood on the dresser was off and the radio hadn't turned been turned on since yesterday morning. Fully awakened now, she climbed out of bed, pulled on her robe, and slipped her feet into her slippers. Tying the belt aroound her waist, she walked over to the door, concentrating on the music. What a brilliant sound! Never before had she heard a piece of music with such emotion and yet so much power.
The hallway light wasn't much, but she didn't need it at all. The music drew her to the living room and she simply stood there, listening to it, marveling in the perfection of the notes. It seemed to hypnotize her as she didn't even notice the person behind her until a hand gently touched her shoulder. Her eyes flew open as she whirled around and let out a short cry.
"Emily!" Simon jumped back, shocked at her outburst.
She sighed with relief. "Simon, I'm so sorry." The music continued on and she looked towards stereo system. "So this is your music, where did you get it?" But Simon looked confused. "It's not mine," he responded. "I heard it as well and wanted to see what it was. In fact, I thought that it was yours."
Emily turned back to the stereo system and stared at it. The lights indicating the pitch continued to rise as the music intensified.
"I don't understand." she said quietly.
She moved towards the system. Pressing a button, the apartment was suddenly plunged into silence. What was once filled with beautiful music now stood empty and silent. Ejecting the tape, she flipped it over.
"It's a blank." she informed her friend. "Someone must have recorded their music and then-"
Realization swept across her face and her eyes darted towards the door.
Simon's gaze followed and his eyes widened with the same thought. He walked across the room quickly to check the lock, but it was secure. He glanced over to the balcony, but Emily shook her head.
"It's the Penthouse."
He nodded and hurried down the hall, checking all of the rooms. When he came back, he shook his head and shrugged.
"You stay right here, Em. I'm going downstairs to check with the doorman."
The woman nodded as he slipped out of the apartment. As the door closed quietly, Emily stared at the tape in her hands. Turning it over, she read the title. "Destiny's Symphony."
She let out a gasp as her legs began to give way and she collapsed onto the couch, her eyes wide, her head filled with memories.
"I propose that in ten years from now, even if each of us are famous or married or extremely successful, we come back here to Kelly's and have a dinner by ourselves just like tonight. And don't humor me, Lucky."
Lucky smirked as he snuck his hand into Elizabeth's. "I wasn't going to humor you, Liz. It's a nice idea."
"It's a plan then." Emily announced. "Ten years from now. We'll be, what, twenty-seven?"
The man sitting next to her cleared his throat. "Some will be older and wiser." He grinned as Emily rolled her eyes.
"In addition to Liz's proposal, I'd like to add one thing." Three pairs of eyes turned to Lucky. "We don't cook the food this time."
Laughter filled the deserted restaurant as the four best friends talked over their late dinner.
"Where do you think that we'll be in ten years from now?" Emily spoke up, she looked at each of her friends.
"Happy," Elizabeth smiled as she leaned her head on Lucky's shoulder. "And hopefully still painting." she added as an afterthought.
"Successful." Nikolas stated as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm looking into something high up, something with business."
Lucky groaned and rolled his eyes as his brother talked.
"Cassadines," Emily heard him mutter.
She kicked him lightly beneath the table. Noticing his sheepish grin, Elizabeth turned to him.
"And what do you plan on doing Mr. Spencer?"
"Taking over my father's club."
Nikolas smirked. "Spencers."
It was his turn to receive Emily's warning.
"Well," she spoke up, "I for one know exactly what I'm going to be."
"Oh?" Elizabeth asked as she took a sip of lemonade. "And what's that?"
"Famous." Her brown eyes sparkled with ambition. She looked at the others. "Really. I'm not going to take over ELQ no matter how much Grandfather haunts me. I want to be on stage, I want to dance, I want to sing."
"Hasn't he been warning you about carrying on the Quartermaine name?" Lucky asked. "Last I heard he was going to pay for your college tuition next year and then draft you onto the ELQ board."
Emily sighed and shook her head. "It's not going to happen, that's not for me and he knows it, but just refuses to accept it. He seems to think that since I'm a Quartermaine then I should be with ELQ." A smile slowly spread across her face. "Maybe I'll change my name. I'll change it to something exotic like Aurora or," she thought for a moment, "or Destiny. Can't you just see it? Destiny Bowen."
She leaned back in her chair and gazed out the window to the night sky as the others exchanged looks and stood up to clear the table.
"It would sure make them flip, Em." Lucky smiled as they walked past.
But Emily barely heard him. She was thinking of Destiny.
It was impossible to think that it could have been one of those three at Kelly's that night who after ten years would remember such a thing. Elizabeth with the artist's hands, Nikolas with his successful business on his hands, and Lucky...
Emily glanced down at the tape as she sat in silence on the couch in her apartment in Paris. Only Lucky was musically talented, but was he capable of composing such an extraordinary piece of music? Did he remember her comment, her secret dream of becoming someone else? The mark of the tenth year was, in fact, approaching swiftly. Though it seemed that Elizabeth would be the one to remember such a thing, not Lucky Spencer. It wasn't like him to remember such a small comment like that.
Then who? The question left her completly speechless, unaware of anything else around her. She was almost certain that they had been the only one there that night, for Tammy, now the owner of Kelly's diner, had closed up and went out for a few hours to give the four friends some time alone. And now she was left with the question once again. Who, capable of the intoxicating music, had heard her thoughts?
Emily jerked her head up as the door to her apartment opened.
"No one." he said, sitting down in the chair beside her. "The doorman seemed very alert. He said that no one has entered the building except for the other occupants."
Emily leaned against the back of the couch and closed her eyes, resting her head in her hand.
"Go get some sleep, Emily, there's nothing to worry about."
Nodding in agreement, Emily stood and walked back towards her room, still clutching the tape in her hand.
"Alright, we'll go through it one more time. Phantom, Raoul, Christine-back on stage for Scene 9. Once we get your parts right, we'll go through it all the way. Emily!" Adam waved her over and she hurried across the stage to where he was holding a script in his hand. "Now, Scene 9 is the ending in which Simon, Ethan, and your voice intertwines. You're coming in a second too late. Don't rush it, especially right before you kiss him..."
Emily was vaguely aware of Adam explaining the scene to her. In fact, she was vaguely aware of anything at all during this long and tiresome rehearsal. She was drifting between the scenes, obeying Adam's instructions and suggestions, yet she was unaware of it all, feeling as if it wasn't her that was really there. Her mind drifted into different places, into different-
"Emily? Have you heard anything I said?"
The young woman looked up, startled. "I'm sorry Adam. Yes, I'm listening."
And so she tried to focuse as she walked back to take her place for the scene. She wondered what was making her feel so aloof and it came to her so suddenly during the scene that she stopped singing.
It was the music. The haunting harmony that had awoken both her and Simon the night before; the melody so perfect that she could do nothing but stand there in awe. She didn't even notice that the others had stopped singing to turn and stare at her, didn't see that other members of the cast had emerged from backstage in question of the silence, didn't hear Adam calling her name...
Until Ethan lifted her chin up gently with his fingers. She stared into his wondering blue eyes and then turned to look at the people around her. Lynn's wide gray eyes caused her to come to attention.
"Oh," she gasped and she quickly apologized.
The crowd chuckled to themselves and dispersed.
Adam, taking the hint that they were in need of a break, waved her off. "Twenty minutes." He told everyone before retreating to his office.
Ethan, still looking at her with a confused expression, offered to help her back to her dressing room.
"You look pale, Em", he replied when she declined.
"It's just a headache," she lied, "but thanks Ethan, I appreciate it."
Hurrying past, she avoided Simon's gaze and walked down the hallway towards her dressing room.
Stepping inside, she collapsed on the sofa, glancing around. All of the dressing rooms had been refurnished once again. It seemed to be the fifth time in over fifty years, and yet it still held the ninteenth century look. She wondered what it would be like back then. The corps de ballet rushing in after an excellent performance, the younger dancers gushing and gossiping about who did what. It was exciting, being at the Paris Opera House, there was no doubt about that.
Lying on the couch, her gaze swept over the room. A rack stood by the wall in front of her filled with her costumes, awaiting the fitting that was to take place the following week. Magazines lay on the coffee table beside her, pictures of friends from New York were tacked on the elegant flowered wallpaper beside her dressing table. And that held assortments of make-up, perfumes, and a bouquet of roses.
She shot up in her seat as she caught sight of the beautiful red flowers in the glass vase. Rising from the couch, she walked over and searched for a card, but there was no envelope amongst the baby's breath and roses. She stepped back and placed her hands on her hips in confusion.
"No card..." she muttered to herself.
"Cards are such a formality."
Emily whirled around at the sound of a voice behind her. Her eyes lit up and a grin spread across her face as she flung her arms around the man.
"Nikolas!"
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