Author's Note: Do people get sick of author's notes? So, uh, yeah...I broke my Smoochy Dreamer's bracelet tonight *sobs* and when I looked at it, the way that it had split was between the words Smoochy and Dreamer and of course that gave me an instant story, which...this is. Nina, also like chained me to my laptop to write this, isn't she mean? And, yeah the time line is screwy but like squint and it'll be fabulous. So yeah, read and be merry. And if you like, review.

Disclaimer: I own nada. Stephanie owns Chris. Chris owns Stephanie, Aurora, Murphy and baby #3 (but shhh, don't tell Paul, it's a big secret *wink*).

Nameless

So that was it huh? A name broken up, removed, and voided. The world of yesterday and all the days of before that held that name together were gone and forgotten in the blink of an eye.

This was a brand new day and Stephanie McMahon-Irvine was just plain old Stephanie McMahon now. It was like a death and then the rebirth of an old life and the signature of her old name deemed it so. It should have felt refreshing, it should have gave her a new lease on life, but all she felt was broken, like the smashed up pieces of her name. Nothing fit right, and her finger felt bare, cold like the slowly forming ice on her her heart.

She wants to blame him, her ex-husband with those blue eyes so deep, that she felt like she had been drowning for years, but she couldn't, wouldn't. How could she when, at the root of it all, there was no one left standing to blame but herself? It was stupid really, a simple, hushed muttering of 'I don't trust you.' and their downfall started. How could there be anything but an ending when there was no trust? There had been biting comments which led to arguments and then stony silence followed. The silence had been broken by an equally broken declaration of 'I can't do this anymore.' and mournful eyes looked into their mirroring blue and the sorrow that reflected back was accompanied with a nod of acceptance.

And so the beginning of the end had started and before either of them had time to blink, there were lawyers and paperwork and signatures, until simply there was here and now.

Here and now had never looked so bleak. How was she meant to go on living in a skin she outgrew? How could she leave behind a name that was the perfect fit?

She wished that it hadn't been a clean break, but it was, it was like a pair of scissors had appeared and snip, she was one name down. There was no jagged push and pull, ripping everything that they were apart, and there was no twisted word that cut deep or remembering of better days. There was just a sterile, automatic routine of doing, until there wasn't, until it was over and she was one less name, one less person to care for.

She was a broken bracelet whose clasp couldn't be fixed.

Trust is a funny thing, isn't it? You have to build it, and they had. You have to let it grow, and they did, their marriage being the biggest testimony to their trust for each other. You have to keep at it, maintain it, sadly they'd grown to safe and forgot to touch base. There were no late night talks in bed when they cuddled in bed where trust was brought up, no:

"I still mean it." Whispered into the night.

"Mean what?" Questioned into the darkness.

"Our vows, our love and trust for each other." A quiet promise.

"Me too."

No, instead there was late nights and office talk.

"Did you hear about them? They're not as strong anymore."

"I heard he visits the Diva's locker room weekly."

"She works too much, he hates it, and he found someone better."

"Did you see that picture of him and Barbie?"

One thing lead to another, like how a brush of a hand can lead to a peck on the cheek, until it's a hesitant fumbling of lips, and then the next thing you know, you're naked in a bed with someone. Well, that's how it happened with Chris and Stephanie at least. But one thing lead to another, and then suddenly, they were arguing more and more, the stress of others words being too much, and it was like they were moving as one, but with no direction and then the light grip that they had on each other, it was only fingertips now and that wasn't enough to save a marriage. It was almost a blink and you miss it moment when their fingertips lost each other, but it set them on different paths and her path had led her to this, and she hadn't talked to Chris in so long, that she didn't know where his had lead him too.

She hoped his had taken him somewhere where he didn't feel the loss of their person who fit.

Just because she had didn't mean he had to lose out.

When she looked back on it now, now that she looked at the bigger picture, she could see how simple it had been to fix. If only she had taken a second, a whole second, to calm herself and listen to him as he told her he would never give up the one thing that made him smile every day, for a measly kiss with someone who was barely old enough to vote. But she was never one to do such easy things and it had cost her. It's ironic that today of all days is when she can look back on it and pinpoint the moment that would have saved her marriage, and kept her a whole person instead of this fractured body she found herself residing in.

She didn't like to think of herself weak, it was a McMahon motto after all, but she stopped being a McMahon years ago and Irvine was all she knew.

Irvine was all she wanted to be.

But she was working hard to try and fit again, to take her old name and make it hers again, but there was a longing, a wanting that made her crave to be an Irvine and never let it go, it was after all what she had promised the first time she took the name and felt it roll from her tongue like it had been her name from birth. Maybe it had, maybe when Chris was born there was this unknown force that knew somewhere down the line that she was getting ready to make her way into the world and placed her name next to Chris's and Irvine had been flown into her being like it was her blood.

Maybe, she just knew what she'd lost and wanted it back.

It was stupid to end a marriage over something as silly as a 'thank you'. Chris had bought everyone in the club a drink, he'd just found out he was going to be a father and Barbie had been then, hugged him, kissed him quick and gone back to her friends. Camera's always caught the most incriminating of pictures and hid the truth behind their glaring colors and gloss.

They should have been happy, but they were barely content.

She wishes it wasn't all her fault. She wishes he'd fought harder to keep them. She wishes he was here holding her, resting his hand under hers as he felt their little girl kick. She wishes he knew it was a girl. She wishes a lot of things, but wishes are nothing but a heart's desire and her heart is slowly stopping and crumbling.

It was ironic, that her ex-husband of all people, Paul, now that she had two, was the one to tell her the truth. He'd been there with Joanie, they'd started talking after their divorce and were slowly making steps to becoming a couple again. He' seen Chris, seen Barbie and seen everything that followed, he'd even watched as Barbie had meet a guy on the way back to her friend and left five minutes later with him, as well as Chris who had been on the phone talking very animatedly into his phone about how happy he was about becoming a father. She remembered that phone call, it was to her after all. They'd talked for close to an hour about names and hockey and dance lessons and she remembers it was the last time they'd been truly happy with each other, because the following weeks had opened the gates and let the floods hit them both, until their raft had upturned and all that was left was broken wood.

If she'd known this month's ago and not weeks ago, maybe they'd be painting the nursery in their home pink instead of packing all their belongings into cardboard boxes and taping them shut. Maybe they'd be curled up on the sofa, Stephanie giggling as Chris sang songs he'd made up. She remembers the first and wonders about the rest that would have come.

'Hey baby, are you awake? Baby, can you hear my voice? Can you tell that I love you more than myself? I can't wait to see your pretty little eyes and dance with you till you're sleeping on my chest. So, hurry up baby and make us a family, make me the daddy I want to be.'

So much wasted time, so much wasted tears.

But with every ending, there's new beginning's, or so they say, so maybe their end isn't final, maybe it's the start of something new.

It all starts with a phone call. The ringing jolts her from her thoughts and when she looks at the number, she doesn't recognize it, but she answers anyway.

"Stephanie McMahon." Oh, that does not sound good on her lips, it tastes bitter.

"I always thought Irvine sounded better."

She hasn't heard that voice anywhere but in her sleep for months and now it's on the other end of her phone, she's not quite sure what to say.

"C-Chris?" she stutters out, perplexed, is she breathing?

"Is this okay?" his voice is quiet, subdued. "I know I shouldn't call, but it's been months and I don't even know how you are, how you both are and I tried to call, but I couldn't lift the telephone." he pauses and takes a ragged breath. "It's killing me Steph. Adam said you got so big, that you're healthy, but your eyes are sad."

"It's not just my eyes that are sad."

"I'm looking at these papers in front of me, and I'm looking at your name, and it's broken." his voice sounds hollow, almost as hollow as her heart. "And all I can think is, how I can't sign these papers."

She doesn't say anything, he's left her speechless because he has the courage she never did and he's spoke up and brought everything that she felt inside out into the open.

He continues.

She listens to him tell her that, he tried to give her space and then before he knew it months had passed and he hasn't even felt his baby kick, but he's signed papers upon papers that meant nothing to him. He asks her and wonders, if she thinks it's time to put these papers in the shredder, where they belong with her old name, because they may say you can't fix what's broken, but no one ever said it didn't hurt to try and that's what he's doing before it's too late to turn back, before the ink in his pen touches the paper and nullifies what made them strong and happy and created something so special, that it'll take years upon years for him to let go.

She agrees.

"I miss you."

And suddenly he's standing behind her and it's like a dream and she hopes to God she isn't dreaming, because she's had this dream before, but she can never see his eyes when she dreams but right now, she's staring into them like she's drowning all over again.

She's not dreaming.

He looks older, tired, but there's this light in his eyes that are shining into her own and she knows what it is, feels it.

Hope for better days.

They'd both needed to come today, to sign in front of their lawyers and discuss final details about their split. That was why he was standing in front of her and not somewhere on the other side of the country.

"Come home."

He nods and his arms wrap around her and she feels him breathe in and sigh, content.

"It's a girl." she whispers.

She can feel him smile against the side of her head and she smiles too as she feels him rest a hand on her stomach.

"Hi, Aurora."

Maybe you can't fix things that break, but sometimes, you can glue them together, and make them stronger.