Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. Any and all original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N: I would like to say a big thank you to Simply Flawless Alysia for presenting me with the concept for this story. I hope you end up liking the direction it takes. For anyone else who reads this, I really hope you like it as well.

Each bumbling footstep he took was a chore.

Chris hadn't ever craved a wealth of power in any area of life, because he'd had his inklings holding such great influence over anyone other than himself wouldn't end well. He was the main commander of his wife's heart and provider for his whole family, and what had he done with that drastic level of responsibility? He had gathered their beating hearts, tossed the pulsating mass to the ground, and stepped all over the pile without their knowledge or consent. It was a wonder he was able to stand at all, but he managed by sliding his hand down the length of the wall with each of his steps, using it for balance as he scoped out the span of the hallway ahead.

The surrounding backstage area was abuzz, and the eagerness of the fans could be heard from inside the arena as they began trickling indoors to treat themselves to the pivotal outcomes of each match on the Extreme Rules card. Chants were already echoing off the hallow walls of the Scottrade Center, and Chris met them with a pained cringe. The memory of numerous hangovers from his past drifted to the forefront of his mind the more difficult he found it to walk, to block out the noise, to shut out the light — even to breathe. Only this time, excessive alcohol hadn't been the cause of his physical strain. He found a distant point ahead to focus on, which happened to be the corner of a small table wedged up against the wall, and used that as his guide until he reached the end of the hallway.

Chris paused at the wall's corner, inching around at the pace of a snail to toss a final look behind himself and study the closed door of the locker room he had just slipped out of. The main precipitator to his sins rested easily behind the privacy of that door, likely still putting herself back together. Chris was the one who had taken her apart, exposed every inch of her slender body and done as he pleased with it, and he wanted, with every fiber of his being, to take it back. In facing forward, he caught sight of a wall clock, ticking right along on schedule, and he found himself wishing he could turn back a day, or even only an hour, to wipe away the mistakes left in his careless wake.

Chris turned the corner, nearly crashing into an overzealous production assistant in the process, and his heart dropped when he caught sight of the office. Not just any office. Her office. He unconsciously slipped his hand into the space between his waist and belt buckle and edged around it with his fingers, making certain his shirt had been tucked in all the way. She noticed everything about him, and if an inch of his suit was out of place, she would wonder why. Chris next clutched the lapels of his jacket and straightened the garment out, trying to gather enough saliva in his mouth to swallow, which had become an unforeseen struggle.

His mouth had dried out like a long stretch of pavement on a scorching summer day in Texas, and an audible gulp was the best he could do. His hands developed an unmanageable tremor, and that was the final straw in making it clear he wasn't ready to face her. She was the most intuitive person he knew, besides her father, and if he walked in shaking like a child being dropped off by their parent on their first day of kindergarten, she wouldn't let up until she forced the issue out of him. A shuddering breath rippled over his parched lips, and when Chris spotted the man known as Fandango, posing in front of a full-length mirror in the middle of the hallway ahead, he saw his out.

They had a match to discuss, including plotting for the big spots, so it made sense Chris would spend a good portion of his time with the younger man. Their interaction would serve two purposes, because it would give Chris valuable time to rethink his direction in life, while also making sure the final plans for his match fell into place before either of them entered the squared circle. His brain ordered his legs to move, but they were slow to respond, and he found himself depending on the wall for stability once more, but his focus was interrupted by the creaking of the office door across the hallway. It opened just a tad at first, as if someone was peeking out, and a keen squeak sounded from the door's aged hinges the wider it expanded.

Chris had been spotted before he could make his getaway.

"I won't tell you again to shut the door, Chase," Stephanie's solid instruction came from just beyond sight. "You need to wait patiently for Daddy to come back."

"But he's right here, Mom," Chase ducked his head back inside long enough to alert her. He faced Chris again after receiving no more objections from Stephanie and held the door, grinning as he waited for Chris to enter. Chris considered evading his family in order to escape the strain being near them would bring, possibly even jogging down the hallway to escape the suffocating air, but his legs wouldn't allow such exertion, and he couldn't walk away from his son, who was so excited to see him.

"Hey, bud," Chris managed. The words were strained, but Chase was none the wiser as he waved him inside. As instinctual as his son could be, in the end, he was only an innocent seven-year-old, as was made evident by the boastful image of The Power Rangers on his t-shirt. Chase wasn't the person he had to fear.

"I drew a picture of you," Chase said. His words carried in a hushed murmur, as if the creation of his portrait was their own little secret. It took a conscious effort for Chris to work his facial muscles into a shape even remotely resembling a smile, but he did it, because his family deserved the best of him. It was a shame he hadn't been as determined to uphold the standards of being a family man a mere hour ago.

"That's awesome! I can't wait to see it," Chris said. Chase studied him from afar, his eyes narrowing to slits as he took in the full sight of him, and it wasn't until Chris realized he was still balancing against the wall that he understood Chase's suspicious gazes. Clearing his throat and finding Fandango still checking his pecs out in the mirror several yards away, Chris pushed off the wall and crossed into the threshold of Stephanie's office on unstable legs he suspected would give out at any time.

Stephanie was in the middle of writing notes on a sheet of paper in front of her, juggling her work responsibilities while keeping the youngest of their brood occupied in her lap. She continued scribbling on the paper but managed to sneak a look upward and smile. "Hey, honey. I was wondering when you would be back. Did you get everything all set for your match?"

"Yep, I did," Chris fibbed.

He ruffled Chase's bone-straight hair, as golden as the sand on Greer Island Beach back home, and checked on their middle daughter, Chandler. She had plopped down on the black leather sofa nudged against the back wall of the office and was fully enthralled in the handheld Barbie game she received as a gift for her fifth birthday a month beforehand. Light beeping and soft music accompanied her journey through the game, and Chris walked over and bent down to plant a kiss on top of her blond waves of hair. As Chase rushed to grab his picture, picking up a colored pencil and putting on the finishing touches so he could present it to his dad, Chris crossed the room and took a seat in the lone chair on the opposite side of Stephanie's desk.

Lola, their three-year-old, was intent on patting Stephanie's cheeks between each of her miniature hands, a light clapping sound accompanying her playful taps. Not one to usually be distracted while working, Stephanie raised an eyebrow at Chris from across the desk, watching him only until she was forced to turn her attention back to the words she was writing on the paper in front of her. Chris usually pulled a chair around so he could be at her side, but he hadn't showered since leaving the locker room he'd been holed up in, and his paranoia convinced him Stephanie would smell his deceit at too close a distance. She would catch a whiff of the deception and lies swimming over his skin, and the family he had worked so hard to attain would be whisked out of his life for good.

Chris couldn't bring himself to look into Stephanie's eyes, the same deep blue eyes that normally brought such a strong sense of comfort. Now, all he would see reflected in them was the fragility and vulnerability of her entire being, and it would only highlight all he had done to betray the sense of trust she had in him. His chest ached, his throat burned, and his stomach flip-flopped the longer he sat across from her. Only the hour before, Stephanie had been focused on completing her work and caring for her kids, their kids, while Chris had been trampling all over his wedding vows in a room right down the hallway.

"Daddy, these is cheeks," Lola announced, blue eyes glimmering with pride and complimenting the rich brown shade of her silky strands. Leave it to an innocent child to interrupt his thoughts and bring him crashing back down to a reality he couldn't deny. Lola pointed out Stephanie's cheeks with a pleased grin as she showed off the extent of her knowledge of the human body. The flash cards of human organs Stephanie had bought for her seemed to be paying off, because she was clearly learning. She repeated, "These is Mama's cheeks."

"You're right, they are. Very good, sweetie," Chris praised. Lola's wholesome demeanor was helping to take the edge off of him, and he sank down in his seat and stretched his feet out in front. "You're getting to be so smart. You must take after Mommy."

"I Mommy?" Lola's forehead scrunched into a look of confusion, and it was actually enough to tug a laugh out of Chris.

"No, I don't mean that you're Mommy," Chris explained. "I meant that you remind me of her because you're such a smart girl."

"Oh," Lola replied, dragging the word out as she processed his response.

Chris didn't really expect her to understand what he was saying, but the conversation, no matter how stilted, was enough to keep his mind off of intruding women who didn't need to be running through it. Stephanie placed her pen on the table and opened her mouth to speak, but Chase cut her off at the pass, rushing up to Chris's side and thrusting a picture in his face. Chris's lips fell into an easy smile as he glanced over the image of himself in his son's eyes, standing in the ring and holding the championship belt in the air. Chase had taken it upon himself to draw an arrow to the belt and label it the WWE Championship, which was his way of saying Chris could achieve the big time if he chased after it.

Chase wanted it to be known he had faith his dad both could, and should, be holding what was arguably the most respected title in the whole company. Chris pulled Chase into his lap and kissed the top of his head. "This is a really cool picture, kiddo. I'm honored you would draw this for me."

"Do you like it?" Chase perched on the edge of Chris's lap and scoured his face for any sign of distaste for his artwork. He wasn't as good an artist as he could have been but was hoping his dad, of all people, would be able to see the beauty in it.

"No, I don't like it," Chris said, catching sight of Stephanie in his peripheral vision, whose head had shot up at his words. "I love it," he finished. He held the picture up and turned it around for Stephanie to see. "Where do you think I should put it, babe? I was thinking of hanging it over the desk in my office at home."

"Isn't that just the sweetest, most adorable thing?" Stephanie pouted, bringing a hand to her chest as she gazed at the picture. "It's so nice of you to draw something like that for Daddy, Chase. You're such a good boy."

"I'll draw you one too, Mom. I'll make you a Million Dollar Princess one of how you were a long time ago," Chase offered.

"Actually, it was Billion Dollar Princess, and it wasn't that long ago," Stephanie corrected, smirking the whole way through. She patted her hair down and tossed it behind her shoulders before motioning to herself and glancing between her two boys. "I've still got it, don't I?"

"Uh-huh," Chase nodded. He may not have been born in time to witness Stephanie in all her evil glory during her unforgettable McMahon-Helmsley Era antics, but Chase had watched enough DVD's from that time period to be privy to the basics of her onscreen role. His favorite era of wrestling to watch was the early 2000s, because he got to see his mother in a whole different light, plus, there was the added bonus of seeing what his dad looked like with long hair, which Chase always got a kick out of.

"I think Mommy's definitely still got it, too," Chris added. "You've seen old shows of her, so you know how large and in charge she was back then."

Stephanie cleared her throat, tacking on, "I'm still in charge."

"Don't I know it," Chris agreed.

His family had a way of lulling him into a false sense of security, and the ease with which they made conversation was enough to make his worries dissolve, even if the relief was only temporary. Chris was blowing his actions out of proportion, and if he let his guilt pass, Stephanie would be none the wiser and he could return to his old life without her ever having known anything was amiss. It was a simple mistake he hadn't made before and wouldn't ever make again. Life had other plans, however, as was made apparent by the urgent knock coming from the opposite side of the office door. Before Chris could stop him, Chase had hopped up and was pulling the door open, greeting the person on the other side.

Being their eldest child, Chase was allowed more responsibility at shows than the girls were and had become the designated greeter for Stephanie. Whenever someone came to the door, he was first in line to see who it was and what they needed, even going so far as to relay the message back to Stephanie before he let anyone pass through. Their hidden visitor exchanged pleasantries with Chase, bringing her hand down to pat his head, and the hand was strangely familiar, but one Chris couldn't immediately place. The sculpted acrylic nails painted a solid maroon color should have been a dead giveaway, but Chris's mind was too clouded by anxiety to see the trouble forming right in front of him like a twister in the heart of Tornado Alley.

Chase backed away from the door to allow their guest entrance, and all it took was another step for the charm bracelet on her wrist to show before Chris's eyes narrowed to slits. He couldn't believe the nerve of her to visit the office where his wife, his entire family, sought refuge from the chaos of the superstars who roamed the hallways. If there was one expectation he had of her, it was that she wouldn't show up anywhere near the people he loved most, and he had made it a point to request that of her specifically. At least she was making it clear she had not an ounce of dignity nor a shred of respect for him. Now he understood the full gravity of the sticky situation on his hands.

"Hi, it's so good to see you," Stephanie smiled, as she scooted back in her rolling chair. She hoisted Lola up in her arms as she stood and carried her across the room, where she reached out to greet Michelle McCool with a handshake, since the load she carried made it impossible to give her a hug. "It's been such a long time."

"It sure has," Michelle answered in her usual southern twang. Chris's ears burned, and he was almost certain they were brimming with a sickly shade of red. He tried letting himself off the hook by pretending to be distracted with Chase's drawing, but Stephanie wasn't having it.

"Chris, look who it is. You haven't seen Michelle in ages," Stephanie said, walking over and tugging vehemently on his arm as encouragement to stand.

With reluctance, Chris slid the picture onto Stephanie's desk and turned around, but he couldn't bring himself to actually look Michelle in the eyes — not after the adulterous hour they had spent together in the locker room not too far away. She was freshly showered and wearing a change of clothes, a point made obvious to him. She hadn't dried her hair all the way, as if silently taunting him about the secret hanging precariously over each of their heads, or perhaps his defensiveness was making him perceive it as such. Chris found himself staring at floor, following the design of the carpet all the way to the start of Michelle's shoes, without allowing his pupils to venture any farther up.

"Hey, Chris," Michelle said, giving him a small wave, though his gaze hadn't been focused enough on her to appreciate it.

"Hey," he answered lowly, averting his eyes to where Chandler was still playing quietly on the couch.

Michelle was too close for comfort, and the only tactic he had to battle her forwardness was to scramble away. He left his chair and went to the couch, sitting beside Chandler and slipping his arm around her shoulders. She looked up, and Chris kissed her forehead before requesting she show him the basics of her game.

Stephanie's eyes followed and a wrinkle formed in the center of her brow as she skimmed the length of him. Chris glanced up briefly and she tipped her head, making a silent request to know what was going on with him, but he quickly averted his eyes. Turning back to Michelle, she smiled, saying, "I'm sorry about whatever that was just now. He's nervous about his match tonight, and I think it's getting to him."

"Oh, it's no worry," Michelle said, turning her focus to the kids and smiling widely enough to develop crinkles in her nose as her eyes fell to rest on Chase, who was still standing beside Stephanie and leaning into her side. "They're all so adorable. How old are they now?"

"Chase is seven," Stephanie said, placing her free hand atop his head. She pointed her daughters out next, "Chandler just had a birthday, so she's five now, and Lola here is three," she said, hitching her daughter up in her arms.

"Hi, little Lola," Michelle gushed, running her fingertips over the little girl's arm. Lola shrank away and hid her face against Stephanie's collarbone, hugging her around the neck. Stephanie bounced her lightly in her arms and rubbed her back in a circular motion.

"She's a little shy with people she doesn't know well," Stephanie explained, asking, "Right, Lo?"

Lola didn't respond, and Michelle waved it off. "I know how kids can be. I was a teacher years ago, and I've got one of my own now, so I get it."

"That's right, you do!" Stephanie gushed. She vaguely registered hearing about the birth of Michelle's daughter the previous year, but it came flooding back to her in the moment. "How old is she now?"

"She's almost nine months, and, let me tell you, she's been an absolute joy since the day she was born. She's got her daddy wrapped around her finger already, which is really funny to watch," she grinned, her smile slowly melting away as every bit of humor retreated from her eyes and was replaced with contempt. "Mark's better with her than he ever was with me."

Stephanie caught the bitter note to her voice but didn't care to pry. She settled on offering words of encouragement instead. "Well, it can be hard to adjust to marriage when you start adding kids to the mix, but you'll get the hang of it. What brought you here today?"

"Oh, well, Mark stayed back home with the kids. He's got Kaia and his older girls staying with him today, but I needed a break, so I decided to come visit my old friends. It's great being here and seeing you again," Michelle complimented. "I was thinking nobody in this arena would even notice my existence today, but I've definitely been noticed, even by people I hadn't expected."

Chris's eyes flashed from where he sat eavesdropping, as he detected a hidden meaning in her words. Michelle's focus settled on him only for a span of a few seconds, long enough to confirm her comment had been directed towards him. She was entering the domain he shared with Stephanie and shaking it up as she saw fit, but if there was anything he wouldn't allow her to toy with, it was his family. If Michelle thought she was the person behind the controls who could dictate the outcome of their lives, then she had another thing coming. Patting Chandler's leg and assuring her he would return soon, Chris stood and sneaked up behind Stephanie.

"Hey, babe?" he interrupted, slipping a hand over Stephanie's hip and sending Michelle a pointed look. She had been right in the middle of telling a story about her new daughter, but everyone's gaze shifted to him.

"Chris," Stephanie half chuckled, widening her eyes as she spoke to him, "you just interrupted Michelle right in the middle of her story. Don't be rude."

"I wasn't trying to be, but you should probably get back to work," he said. His words sounded a lot more bossy than he intended and were only meant to separate her from Michelle, but now he had caught Stephanie's attention in the worst way possible, because she turned her body to face him and scowled.

"Really?" she asked. "And since when have I ever needed you to manage my time at work or anywhere else?"

"Oh, no," he held his hands up, "I wasn't — "

"You weren't what, Chris?" Stephanie quizzed. "You weren't being completely rude to Michelle by cutting her off, which, by the way, you still haven't apologized for?"

"It's not like that," Chris backtracked. He knew better than to piss Stephanie off, and especially after he had taken part in an act powerful enough to destroy their entire marriage if it wanted to.

"No, you know what, I should be going anyway," Michelle cut in.

"You don't have to leave," Stephanie assured her, not bothering to take her eyes off of Chris's. She was as skilled at delivering a silent scolding as she was at laying into him with a verbal thrashing. The whole scene was uncomfortable for Chris, and all he wanted was that one woman, that single foreign object, out of his wife's office.

Michelle had to go.

"Really, I should," she said, rubbing her dampened palms over the tops of her jeans. "I only came to say hi since I was making my rounds. I'm sure I'll see you later tonight 'cause, like I said, I'm hanging out and visiting with everyone."

"All right, I'll see you soon then. It's really great to have you back here, Michelle, even if only for one weekend," Stephanie said. She followed behind and escorted Michelle to the door as Chase grew bored with the adults' conversation and ran to the couch, plopping down next to Chandler and spying her game over her shoulder.

"It's great to be back. See you during the show."

"You will," Stephanie cemented, holding the door open for her. As soon as she was gone and the door clicked shut behind her, Stephanie whirled around to face Chris. She wore an icy stare, but, moreover, her eyes clicked quizzically with his, as if she didn't know what to make of his behavior. The way he was carrying himself was out of character, but she couldn't quite place what was bothering him. "What is the matter with you, Chris? I can't believe how you acted in front of her just now. Do I treat your friends like that when they come over to our house?"

"Michelle's not your friend," he frowned.

"That's not the point!" Stephanie hissed. "She's a co-worker who I've built a positive relationship with, and when you treat people like that, it reflects badly on me and the rest of this family. Why don't you think about that before you decide to act like a jackass?"

"Sorry," Chris shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. His eyes seemed to be doing an excess amount of watching the floor lately.

"Don't tell me that. Tell her," she said. Stephanie nodded towards the door, shifting Lola to her opposite hip, and as awful as it might have been, Chris saw his out for a second time. He saw his chance to catch up with Michelle and drill the message home that his family wasn't one to be messed around with. She would understand that when he told her don't come around, he meant business.

"All right, I will. I'm not above apologizing, so I'll be right back," Chris relented.

Stephanie started to say something else, but he didn't wait around to find out what it was. He feared his golden opportunity would be missed, so he slipped out the door before Stephanie could speak another word. In glancing both ways, Michelle was nowhere to be found, so Chris rounded the corner to scan the hallway holding the room they had shared earlier and found her leaning up against the wall beside it. Her purse was slung casually over her shoulder, and she leaned all of her weight on one foot as she stood filing her nails, as if expecting someone.

Chris started down the hallway, and when he was close enough to make out her expression, the smirk that accompanied her gaze let him know she suspected he would show up all along. He checked the distance he covered from behind to be certain they were alone and came to a stop in front of her, pointing in the direction of Stephanie's office. "My family is right down this hallway, so I'm going to make myself very clear in as little time as possible. I love my wife. I love her and my kids, and whatever crazy lapse in judgment I had an hour or two ago means nothing. You got it? You and me mean nothing."

What he hadn't expected to see was the sincerity of the pain coursing through Michelle's eyes. She ceased chomping on her gum mid-chew and tossed her nail file inside her purse. "I...Chris, I know I'll never measure up to what Stephanie is to you. She's your wife, and I don't want to compete with her. I only want a chance to make you happy."

"You and I are never going to be together, so there aren't any chances to be given. I'm happy with Stephanie."

"You're not too happy if you fell into my arms so easily today," she shot back, eyebrows knitting together. She brought a hand to her head and whisked the offending hairs away that had settled against her forehead. "Look, Mark and I have been on rocky ground since the baby came, and I've tried talking to him so we can fix what's wrong, but he always has some excuse for why he can't. You're the first guy who's actually listened to me in a long time. The talk we had earlier today was incredible. You understood everything I was saying."

"That's because I was trying to be a friend."

"But we made love."

"No, what we had was sex. There's a difference," Chris chastised. He inched forward and latched onto her wrist, adding, "I've never done this kind of shit to Stephanie, because I'm not that guy. I can't be that guy who hurts his wife. I've been married for almost 10 years, and what happened today doesn't really matter, because it was a stupid mistake, and it'll never happen again. When I say don't come near my family, I mean it. Don't you ever, ever show up at Stephanie's office again. If you come to a show and need to see her, you talk to her out in the open hallway, but not in her office where my kids are. Do you understand me?"

"But, Chris, I — "

"No!" he cut in. "I'm done, and this giant mistake is done, too. Don't talk to me, don't talk to my kids, and don't talk to my wife unless it's business related. You may as well stay the hell away from the shows altogether. You have no business here anymore as it is."

"So...what? You just use me and then toss me out like yesterday's trash?" Michelle asked, tears glinting off her eyes. "I don't open myself up to just any old person. I did with you because I thought I could trust you. I thought you felt the same connection with me that I just felt with you."

"Well, you thought wrong. I can't place all the blame on you, because I could have made a different choice, too, but I'm not discussing this with you any longer," Chris said, his voice low and devoid of all emotion. "Stay away from me and my family, and consider today a horrible mistake, because that's all I'll ever remember it as. In fact, erase it from your memory completely and don't bring it up again to anyone. Goodbye and good luck."

"Goodbye," Michelle muttered, cupping her mouth to keep from falling apart as Chris stalked away.

She waited until he disappeared from sight to follow his path and find the nearest exit. To have Chris openly admitting his kisses and caresses had meant nothing made her sick to her stomach, but she had a family of her own, and so did he. If all Chris requested was that she stay away, she would put in her best effort to honor his wishes, no matter how used and abused he had made her feel. Problem was, Michelle had the slightest inkling she couldn't stick to such a promise for long, if the tugging he had done at her heartstrings was any indication.

Rarely did a one-time mistress drift into obscurity.