"Kate's film didn't do well at the box office, and some tabloids mocked her relationship with you over it, so she felt awkward about coming. Conveniently, she's staying in L.A. to oversee the house construction."
In the elevator, Janet clung affectionately to Simon's arm, catching him up on recent happenings in Los Angeles.
Simon listened with a smile. "Kathryn has a very distinctive personal style as a director. She just hasn't found the right genre yet."
Janet asked, "What kind do you think suits her?"
"War films," Simon answered without hesitation, then added, "Her realist lens is perfect for capturing the intensity and brutality of war."
Janet tilted her head, thinking. "You're right. Kate can seem shy and awkward in social settings sometimes, but deep down she's got a violent streak. Back at Columbia, a lot of her paintings were pretty bloody."
The elevator ding interrupted them. Simon glanced at the panel, thirty-second floor.
They stepped out and walked down the hall to an apartment door.
Janet fished keys from her bag, opened it, kicked off her shoes in the entryway, and padded barefoot into the living room.
Simon followed, bending to pick up her discarded shoes and place them neatly on the rack. A faint feminine scent enveloped him, familiar in a way he couldn't place.
The fragrance, which should have been pleasant, instead caused a dull throb in his temples, as if something buried deep was trying to surface. A brief wave of dizziness passed before his mind cleared.
He set his own shoes aside, no men's slippers on the rack and joined her barefoot in the living room.
Janet handed him a bottle of mineral water. "That's all that's in the fridge. Should I call Neil to bring some groceries?"
Simon took it with a grin. "Let Neil rest. And this isn't your apartment, is it?"
Janet nodded. "I wanted my own place in the city when I was eighteen, but Mom and Dad wouldn't allow it. Then I spent most of my time in L.A., so it wasn't necessary."
Simon gestured around. "Then whose is it?"
"The Iceberg's," Janet said, tossing her jacket onto the sofa. "She's vacationing in England right now, so we can crash here."
Simon took a moment to remember who the "Iceberg" was. "We're staying in your aunt's apartment? Is that okay?"
"Of course. Whenever I came back to Melbourne and didn't want to hear the old man lecture me, I'd bunk here." Janet shrugged, snatched the water from Simon's hand, took a few sips, tossed the bottle aside, and wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her cheek to his chest and murmured, "Little jerk, did you miss me at all?"
Simon smiled, lifting her light frame. "No, i'm way too busy."
Janet pouted, leaned in, and nipped his lip. "Fuck you," she mumbled.
After a lingering moment, she hummed and pointed toward the bedroom. Simon turned off the living-room lights and carried her there.
Perhaps the unfamiliar surroundings triggered it, but all night he drifted through scattered dreams. Those buried memories surged up again. At one point he knew he was dreaming yet couldn't wake.
Amid the fractured fragments, a small figure kept appearing a quiet, withdrawn child, perhaps a little autistic.
Often locked in dark closets.
The child had understood early, longing for someone to visit because then he'd get good food, new clothes, and everyone would suddenly be kind.
The broken thoughts scattered, never forming clear images only a faint imprint etched in the deepest part of memory.
Later, much later.
The child ended up completely alone in a strange place, surviving like a stubborn little beast.
When Simon woke, he found damp tear stains on the pillow. He lay there a while, trying to recall the dreams, but the fragments melted away like snow under harsh sunlight.
Bright light leaked through the curtains. He reached for his watch on the nightstand, 11:55 a.m. He usually woke at eight. Though he and Janet had gone to bed late, sleeping until nearly noon was unusual.
And no one had called about the morning Cersei Capital meetings.
Janet must have silenced the phones so he could rest.
Smiling at the thought, he showered quickly, changed into clothes Janet had laid out, and stepped into the living room. Delicious smells wafted from the kitchen.
He called out. Janet poked her head around the corner, waving a soup spoon. "Five minutes. Watch TV if you want."
He nodded, opened the fridge, now stocked with fruit and drinks, clearly Janet's morning shopping and drained half a bottle of water. As he headed to help, noise came from the entryway.
Security in this upscale building was tight; no one should slip in unnoticed.
Curious, Simon walked over and saw a tall blonde woman in a cream turtleneck and black trousers standing in the doorway, pulling a small suitcase.
Seeing him, her face went deathly pale, eyes filled with panic and fear. She froze as if spellbound. [TL/N: Iceberg.]
Simon instantly knew who she was. The sight of her triggered the same dizziness he'd felt entering the apartment last night; dreamlike fragments began coalescing in his memory.
A splitting headache threatened to burst his skull.
He tried to raise a hand to his temple, but before he could, everything went black and he collapsed to the floor.
"…"
"Simon Westeros rushed to hospital; Johnston family seals off news."
"Rumors Simon Westeros suffered mental-health relapse."
"Insider reports Simon Westeros fainted unexpectedly at noon, likely due to overwork."
"Amy Pascal and other Daenerys executives fly to Melbourne."
"Japanese markets plunge 226 points amid Westeros collapse news."
"Los Angeles city spokesperson demands Johnston family disclose Westeros condition."
"Stanford University expresses concern for Simon Westeros."
"Should tragedy strike genius prodigy, who inherits billions?"
"Breaking: After six-hour coma, Simon Westeros regains consciousness around 6:20 p.m.; Johnston family to hold 8 p.m. press conference."
"Batman producer Joe Silver says production paused for one week."
"…"
"…"
When Simon woke again, those old memories seemed newly reorganized, some erased forever, others sharpened.
Lying in the hospital bed, he scanned the room, saw Janet's tear-streaked face beside him, and decided he absolutely could not pass out again.
He couldn't bear to make the people who cared about him suffer.
He spotted another figure in the crowd but only glanced briefly before looking away, forcing lightness into his voice to comfort Janet.
He knew nothing was physically wrong, yet at everyone's insistence he endured a full checkup and agreed to three days' observation.
Results, naturally, were perfect. Anthony Johnston personally escorted the attending physician to the press conference.
The next day was Simon's birthday.
His twenty-one birthday.
With recovered memories, he confirmed the date was real.
February 22, 1968.
Yet he'd spend it in hospital. Many had flown in from the States, Kathryn, Sandra, Amy, Iger, James, Warner's Terry Semel, and others.
Once he woke, the brief chaos subsided quickly.
Tabloids in L.A. still speculated what would happen to his billions if tragedy struck or his old condition returned and left him incapacitated. They didn't know about the arrangements he'd made long ago with George Norman.
Batman paused production.
It's not a big deal, Hollywood had seen massive projects halted over stars' marital spats. Simon's status far outranked any actor's.
Janet took over Cersei Capital, even quarreling with her father, blaming Raymond Johnston for overburdening Simon.
Simon had no worries about Janet running Cersei. The fund's strategy was long-term bullish; as long as Japan kept rising, losing money was unlikely. only a question of how much profit.
Besides, he knew her lazy façade hid sharp competence; she was perfect for day-to-day operations.
After the initial uproar, once everyone saw he was fine, Amy and the others returned to America.
He spent two more days in the Johnston-funded private medical center. One final full checkup tomorrow morning, then if clear, he and Janet planned to recuperate on the Tasmanian farm they'd bought. It was quieter there.
...
A day of idle boredom.
After dinner and some TV, Janet went to rest next door.
Simon fell asleep quickly alone.
No more scattered dreams these past two nights.
Perhaps there never would be again.
In a drowsy haze, he sensed someone enter and sit quietly beside the bed, watching him.
The familiar scent woke him instantly. He met the woman's gaze in silence.
After all these years, she looked almost unchanged from memory.
Simon said nothing.
She sat a moment, then tears began falling in the dim light. Soon she covered her face and sobbed, murmuring broken words.
"I was only seventeen… I didn't know what to do… I sent the qLevinsons money every year so you'd be better off… That year they took you on vacation and never returned to Birmingham… I looked for you later… I never imagined you'd turn up in San Francisco…"
Simon listened a long while before interrupting stiffly, "Stop crying."
She immediately stifled her sobs, hand over mouth, as if afraid any sound would displease him.
After a pause she wiped her face, looked up, and said, "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you. It was all my fault. Please don't hurt the Johnstons or Janet. Janet truly loves you."
Simon was silent again, then answered in the same stiff tone, "I never planned to hurt anyone. It's all coincidence."
She remained seated, clearly unsure whether to believe him yet afraid not to.
A moment later Simon asked, "Have you told anyone?"
She shook her head. "No."
"I don't want things complicated. Since you've told no one, forget it ever happened."
"Hm?"
"Pretend nothing happened. I don't know you. You don't know me."
She lifted a hand hesitantly. "Really?"
"I'm tired. You should go."
She studied him earnestly a moment, then rose carefully and left the room in silence.
The next morning, after the final checkup, Simon left the medical center surrounded by a crowd.
Reporters who'd camped outside three days erupted into near-riot at his appearance, tailing the motorcade all the way to the Johnston estate.
At noon the family hosted a luncheon welcoming his discharge, inviting select guests.
It was necessary.
Everyone wanted reassurance that Simon could still steer Cersei Capital.
Raymond Johnston also formally introduced his sister, Veronica Johnston, to Simon. Though Veronica behaved oddly in his presence, others chalked it up to meeting a stranger.
Despite remembering more, Simon had no intention of letting old history disrupt his life. He resolved to treat the past few days as nothing more than a dream.
Dream over, life goes on.