When Emily Quartermaine took her last breath in the grand foyer of Wyndamere, her mind wasn't on the man it should have been. When her family and friends waxed poetic about the great love of her life in the days following her funeral, they weren't talking about the man they should have been. When the first visitor laid a bouquet of her favorite Casablanca lilies at the foot of her family's crypt, it wasn't the man that it should have been. And when she made her first reappearance to the living again, her first visit wasn't to the man that it should have been.

Emily had always heard that you have a moment of clarity before you die, this aural epiphany where all of life's questions are answered and everything finally makes sense. When she nearly died of cancer four years ago, she had believed that she went through such a near-death experience where she could see everything clearly. Her visions led her toward the man she had long loved, her perfect prince, Nikolas Cassadine. The strength of their love was had maintained and sustained her during the weakest moments when everyone around her was sure that she was going to lose the battle. On that fateful night where she had nearly died, having him on the other side of the wall was what had brought her over to the other side. If you had asked her in even the last seconds leading up to her murder if that same love would bring them yet another miracle, she would have believed it with all of her soul. Only after she slipped away from this earth would she come to realize how wrong she was.

Standing outside a quaint white cottage, she peered through the window of a house as familiar as her own. Inside, she watched a handsome, rugged man chase a curly-haired toddler in bare feet. A wide grin painted across both their faces, she could feel the love radiating from her position on the porch. More than anything, she wanted to make her presence known. She wanted to go to him and remind him that she ever existed. However, as the small child dodged around the sofa and into his father's waiting embrace, she knew that she couldn't. It was going to be hard enough explaining it to an adult; she would never risk scaring a child.

"What do you say you go upstairs and take your nap?" she heard the father ask, cradling his sleepy son close to his chest. The small boy seemed to protest for a moment. "When you wake up, we'll go over to Kelly's for some ice cream and go play in the park." The negotiation worked, and soon father and son disappeared out of sight and away from Emily's eyesight. She considered going inside for a moment, poising on the edge of the couch to surprise him when he returned. Instead, she convinced herself to wait a little longer. She had always trusted her instincts and something was telling her that that timing wasn't quite right. There was a reason she was outside looking in for the moment. She needed a sign to tell her to push forward, to accept what she had long ignored.

After more than ten minutes, the man padded back down the stairs. She expected him to busy himself with the television or picking up the scattered toys, but he elected to sit quietly on the sofa. He reached into the drawer of the oak table that flanked his couch and retrieved a well-worn leather album. Emily recognized the book immediately and knew that it contained photograph after photograph of them together. The album had been hers, a treasure chest full of her memories. She could remember all the times she had poured over those pages, retracing the course of their mutual journey. It had always been an undeniable source of comfort, an inanimate friend she had come to depend on almost as much as him.

He flipped through the plastic pages for awhile, quietly smiling at each image. Eventually, he stopped to look at one near the end. She knew exactly which photograph had captivated him because it was her favorite as well. It was of them on their trip to the islands, the brief spell when neither of them had been entangled with their other supposed soulmates. "I really missed you today, Em," he confessed softly. "There is a lot going on right now, and I don't know what to do." He stopped talking for a moment to retrace the gentle curve of her cheek on the page. "There is so much I want to talk to you about. There is so much I need you to say."

"Then tell me," she announced softly without even thinking. His azure eyes shot to her and widened in shock. He shook his head for a moment, trying to convince himself that this couldn't be real. He couldn't be seeing Emily; she was dead. "You're not dreaming, it's me. I'm really here. I never could stay away from you for very long."

Not trusting his wobbling legs enough to walk across the room to where he saw her standing, he sat still and continued to gaze at her. "Em?" he asked timidly. "This isn't possible. I know that I've kind of gone through a breakdown with your death and this whole Jake thing, but I had no idea I was going crazy. There's no way that you're really here with me."

Emily giggled in the familiar way that she always had, sending tingles up his spine. She crossed the room for him and stopped short of the couch. Reaching out, she caressed his cheek. He could feel the soft whisper of her fingertips on his skin. "I'm really here, Lucky," she promised him. Turning his face to look at her, she smiled reassuringly at him. "I don't know how it's possible, but it is. I wasn't sure if you would be able to see me, but you can."

Lucky reached up to grasp her hand, desperate to make this real for himself. Her palm was cool against his but he could feel her. She was really there with him. "Emily," he murmured, standing up. Without another thought, he wrapped his arms around her slender frame and lifted her effortlessly from her feet. Spinning around slowly in a circle, he buried his face in the crook of her neck. She still smelled the same, the strange combination of a citrus grove at the peak of summer, baby powder and surgical disinfectant. "God, you don't know how I've wished for this. I would have done anything to make this happen, for your death not to be real."

"I'm still not sure that it is real," she retorted hesitantly. She didn't want to scare him but she also didn't want to give him false hope. "I don't exactly understand what is going on. I just know that I had the chance to come back here for some reason, and when I arrived, this was the first place I wanted to come. I didn't even think about it, I just followed my heart. I guess you can say that it led me to you."

He still hadn't let go of his best friend. "Why me?" he pondered aloud. Emily shook her head against his chest, indicating that she didn't have the answer. "You should have gone to see Nikolas or your mother. They are the ones who really needed to see you, Em. They've both been devastated. I could have even understood you seeing Elizabeth or Jason."

For the first time, Emily remembered her other best friend and her brother. Towards the end, she had tried to push them together. She had told herself that it was because she wanted them to be happy, but really, she just wanted Liz to stop making Lucky miserable. They were living a lie and prolonging the inevitable. He deserved to have someone who loved him unconditionally and completely. Now, she realized maybe that she wanted to be that person. "Lucky, you lost your best friend and your son. Don't discount your own feelings or grief. Of course I would want to come to you. You would have come back for me."

"That's different," he protested automatically. He was getting ready to say that it was different because he had been in love with her, but he didn't. Instead, he continued to hold her against him. "You know what? I don't care why you are here. I just care that you are. I am so thankful that you are here with me. It doesn't matter what I have to give up to have even a minute with you, I would have given it gladly."

"I know," she replied, trailing her hands up his back to his chestnut hair. It was as soft as ever as she ran her fingers through the downy strands. His eyes twinkled as he watched her in way that could only be described as utter amazement. He had looked at her the same way the first time they kissed in the cave in Arizona. He had looked at her that way when she had come home from California and when he had woken up with her at his bedside after the coma. It was their look, something completely unique to them. "You know what I think?"

Lucky shook his head. "I could never quite figure out what you were thinking," he joked. He was going through the motions so naturally, but he still couldn't quite believe that she was there with him. He couldn't comprehend that he could see her, smell her, hear her, feel her. She was as familiar and real to him as she had been when she was alive. "Tell me."

"I think," she told him, pressing her head to his chest to hear the beating of his heart, "that you helped me beat death. I think that whatever it is that we have has transcended all reason and convention."

Even though he hadn't always known what Emily thought, he could still read between the lines. He was hearing all the words that she wasn't saying, and her silence spoke volumes. "We've always defied the odds, you and me," he reminded her. "Think about all the times I should have died. I can count at least a half dozen off the top of my head. Think of everything that you beat. We got into so many situations where we should have lost, but we never did as long as we were together. You were more than my best friend, you were my saving grace."

"We saved each other," she agreed. She knew that he was thinking about how he should have been there to save him that night. "Don't blame yourself, Lucky. This isn't your fault. I don't know how I died, but I know that you didn't have anything to do with it. You were having your own world end, only in a different way. We both lost a lot that night. Mine just ended up meaning that I lost everything."

Lucky stepped away from Emily, needing to put some space between them. The conversation was so heavy and moving entirely too fast for him. A whirlwind of emotions enraptured his body. "I want to find it again."

"You will," she promised. "You are."

He offered her the best smile he could muster and accepted her opened arms. Stepping into the warmth of her body, he didn't care if this was real or not. He didn't care if he was crazy or what all of this meant. "I think I may have already. I found you."

"You always did have a way with words, Spencer," she taunted affectionately, poking him playfully in the chest. His head reached up to catch hers and held it tightly. Her eyes were hooded with uncertainty, likely a feeling mirrored in his own. "I'm scared…"

"That this is all going to end," he finished for her. He knew the feeling but was resolved not to let it happen. He had just gotten her back, and there was no way he was about to lose Emily all over again. It had been pure hell, utter agony the first time. Knowing that she had come back for him, this time would be infinitely worse. "I promise you that I won't let that happen. You're here with me, Em. You're not going anywhere. We are not going anywhere."