DISCLAIMER:  I do not own Stephanie McMahon, Kurt Angle, and various other WWE characters that appear in the subsequent story.  They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.  Vince, don't sue me, we haven't covered intellectual property in my business law class yet.

Façade

CHAPTER FIVE

"And that's why my arm resembles a water balloon," I finished.  Taking a deep breath, I wiped the remaining tears away and waited for Kurt to respond.  Kurt, however, continued to pace silently before me, an action he had kept up during my entire revelation.  His lips moved soundlessly as he tried to comprehend everything I had told him, or so I assumed.  Watching him move, I sighed loudly, hoping to spark some sort of reaction from him.

Stopping suddenly, Kurt slammed his fist into the wall directly above my head.  I cringed as angry blue eyes pinned me down.  "What the hell am I to you Steph?" he demanded, placing his hands on my shoulders.

I blinked; this wasn't the response I had planned on.  Disbelief, yes, maybe even some tears, but definitely NOT a discussion on our relationship.  "Excuse me?"

"I thought we were best friends."  His voice was laced with hurt.

I winced, placing my good hand on top of one of his.  "Kurt, I'm sorry," I whispered, resisting the urge to cry yet again.  "I didn't want to tell you because… well," I hesitated.  *Does he really need to know this?*  "I wanted you to think I wasn't weak anymore."

He kneeled between my legs, brushing the hair back from my face.  "When did you start thinking that?  Heck, you're the strongest person I know!" he exclaimed. 

I couldn't hold back my surprise.  "Every day after I was forced to leave, you would call my house and tell me how sorry you were.  About my lack of job, about my separation issues with Hunter, about everything!"  I sniffled loudly, looking down.  "I hated it.  I didn't want you to worry about me.  I wanted to be the strong Stephanie McMahon that you first became friends with, not some sickly pathetic loser that you had to check up on."

Kurt guffawed loudly.  "Like I would ever think that!"  I gave him a watery smile through new tears.  "Oh geez, don't start crying again, I barely held out the last time!"  He wrapped me up in a hug, carefully avoiding my sling.  "From now on, I want to know everything that is going on with you, ok?"

"Alright," I mumbled into his shoulder.  Sore arm and red eyes aside, I felt like a million bucks.  *Who'd thought telling the truth could feel so good?*

"Good."  He squeezed me tighter.  "And I am taking care of you from now on.  I don't like the fact that Dawn spends all her time with that punk Cena."  Kurt spat out his recent tag team partner's name, and I held back a giggle.  "I mean, where does that kid get off, seriously?  Going to the ring and rapping whenever he wants.  I am the Champion, and I don't even get that much mic time, oh it's so true!"

I sighed.  "Way to ruin the moment, Angle," I admonished with a smile.  I knew, however, that he was trying to change the subject for my benefit.  Pulling back a bit, I gave him a peck on the cheek in thanks. 

Kurt's locker room door suddenly swung open, revealing an out-of-breath Dawn Marie.  "Steph!  The main event is starting in five minutes, we don't have a paddle, and you…" She paused, eyeing Kurt.  "And you are in Kurt's arms." 

I could hear the wheels in her head turning in the romantic direction, and put up a hand.  "Dawn, I told Kurt about last spring," I stated. 

Her eyes widened.  "Are you serious?"  Not waiting for an answer, she rushed over to us, placing a hand on my head.  "What happened?  Are you ok?"

"Yes Mom," I groaned.  For a girl who spent the majority of her time acting immaturely, she could be rather overbearing.  "We can all talk about this later… now what did you mean when you said we don't have a paddle?"

She frowned, then handed me my purse.  "Here, we have to get to the ring if you want to take those pictures.  The camera is in there, along with your compact; you should redo your eye makeup on the way to the ring."  She continued to chatter as Kurt and I got up and followed her outside towards the gorilla.  "Apparently the crew members don't keep a paddle with all the other hardcore items.  I asked around, but none of the wrestlers have one either."

*Why didn't I think of buying one on the way to the arena?*  "Bischoff probably owns the one they use on RAW, that sick bastard," I grumbled.  "I guess the match will have to be strictly bra and panties."  Reaching into my purse, I retrieved my compact and went to work on my puffy eyes.

Five hundred feet and a quick makeover later, I stood face-to-face with Hunter and Jericho, wearing baggy T-shirts and workout pants.  Unable to look Chris in the eyes, I smirked at my ex-husband.  "You had better be wearing the proper ring attire underneath there, otherwise you can forget about your reward."

Hunter rolled his eyes.  "Whatever Steph.  Enjoy this while you can, because I can guarantee you that my reward will ruin your precious show, when I take the title from the Olympic Dork over there." 

"Hey!" Kurt exclaimed, placing an arm around my waist.  "Even if you were to win tonight, 'The Game'," he mocked, making rabbit ears with his fingers, "You could never beat me with that prosthetic leg you have now."

Hunter's face darkened, and I couldn't help but add my own two cents.  "You should really call yourself 'The Lame', honey; it would properly capture your current image."  Predictably, Hunter lunged at Kurt and I; Kurt stepped in front of me and proceeded to exchange glares with my ex-husband, standing inches away from one another.  "Don't get your panties in a twist, Hunter!  You can always form a tag team with Zach Gowen!" I exclaimed over Kurt's shoulder. 

As they stared each other down, I was reminded of my partnership with Jericho all those months ago; how we riled up my husband in a similar fashion.  I stole a glance in his direction, studying his face as he watched Hunter and Kurt begin to shout at each other, and couldn't help but think about that kiss we shared in my office.  *Why can't you want me the way I want you?* I wondered sadly.

Blinking, his gaze snapped to meet mine.  Realizing that he caught me staring, I immediately turned to Dawn Marie, handing her the camera from my purse.  "Here, I can't take pictures with this stupid sling; will you do it for me?" I asked, my face hot with embarrassment.  I could feel Jericho's eyes still on me, and I cursed my teenager-ish behavior. 

"Really?  Are you sure?"  Not waiting for an answer, she fiddled with the camera and smiled.  "Don't worry; I'll take some great shots for you."  She waggled her eyebrows at me, and I couldn't hold back a grin.  Her face, however, turned serious as she met my eyes.  "Why are you all red?" she asked with concern.  "Are you feeling ok?"

Her comment caused my cheeks to burn even more.  "Yes," I hissed out, glaring at her. 

She frowned, placing a hand on my forehead.  "Your face is completely flushed, are you sure you're ok?"

Suddenly, Kurt was at my side.  "What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.  I sighed, realizing that his overprotective nature was just about to kick in, thanks to my revelation to him earlier.  "Is everything ok?" he whispered loudly, giving me a pointed look and placing his hand under Dawn Marie's.

I threw up my hands in frustration.  "I'm fine!  Fine fine fine!  So stop asking me!"  Everyone looked at me in surprise, and I felt my temper flare.  "You two," I pointed to Chris and Hunter. "Get out to the ring, now!  The match should have started thirty seconds ago!  You," I pointed at Dawn Marie. "Get out there and take those pictures for me!  And you," I looked at Kurt, removing his hand from my forehead.  "Go shower or something and stop staring at me!"  With a final wave of my arms, I stormed off to my office, locking the door behind me and turning on the TV.

I shrugged off my jacket and sat on the couch while Jericho and then Hunter made their entrances to the ring, both looking annoyed.  As the ref ordered them to strip down, Dawn Marie was caught scurrying down the ramp, Polaroid camera flashing. 

Jericho was the quicker of the two, standing in a mismatched set of a floral shelf bra and baby blue boy shorts within seconds.  Despite looking ridiculous, the women in the audience filled the arena with whistles and catcalls.  He grinned cockily at Hunter, posing with a flexed bicep towards Dawn Marie and the camera.  I gaped; first at his gorgeous lower abs, and secondly at the large bulge that the boy shorts couldn't hide. 

The camera then cut to Hunter, and I shut my mouth in exasperation.  "I've already seen this show," I muttered out loud as my ex-husband revealed a rather expensive looking black lace bra and matching panties.  His chest was so large that the bra was barely hooked in the back; his panties, however, did not strain as much as Jericho's.  I snickered as the cheering and whistling diminished.  Shunned by the crowd, Hunter's face filled with rage, and he struck Jericho with his right hand, causing the match to start.

My snickering grew to laughter as the RAW wrestlers found that wrestling in women's underwear caused new issues to arise.  First, Hunter dropped Jericho as he attempted a body slam, spooked by the amount of Jericho he was actually touching.  Then, Jericho went to chop Hunter's chest, but was simultaneously distracted and blocked by Hunter's bra.  They battled back and forth, carefully at times, while I watched on with glee.  *Man, I hope Shane is watching this,* I thought to myself; my absent brother was missing quite a show.

Eventually, Jericho got the upper hand, landing a bulldog on Hunter.  Pulling Hunter to the center of the ring, he turned his head as he locked my ex in the Walls of Jericho.  Hunter, however, refused to tap out, even when his struggling caused his bra to finally unsnap and tangle around his neck.  Crawling to the side of the ring, he grabbed the bottom rope, ripping the undergarment away from his face.  The referee went to Jericho to break the hold, which he did, reluctantly.

While the ref's back was turned, the camera spied Kurt at ringside with a chair.  I sat forward on the couch, wondering what my best friend was planning.  I didn't have to wait long; three seconds later, Hunter received a face full of chair as he continued to lean on the bottom rope.  Kurt dropped the chair and ran, while Jericho yanked Hunter over for the pin to capitalize.  My breath caught in my throat as Jericho got the three-count and was declared the winner of the match. 

"Oh god…" I whispered out loud as the ref raised Jericho's hand in victory.  I couldn't begin to imagine what his reward would be; only that he would try his damndest to screw me over.  Standing up, I rushed over to my desk, throwing everything back into my briefcase.  I could do my work back at the hotel, away from Jericho and his reward and his amazing lips…

"Stephanie," Jericho's voice echoed from the television.  My hands froze on the zipper of my briefcase as I returned my attention back to the TV.  "Well well well, look who won this ridiculous match.  Me!"  The crowd booed, making him grin.  "Boo all you like, but not too long ago you were cheering for this nearly naked living legend."  He posed again for the crowd, who continued to boo despite the number of flashbulbs that went off.  "And since I beat your ex-husband, Stephy, I get to name my reward.  And believe me, princess, I thought of a good one."  I cringed at his sardonic grin. "You see, Stephy baby, my Highlight Reel is the biggest thing on RAW; but I want it to be bigger.  As big as the King of the World himself!"  Pausing, he stared into the camera, and I couldn't help but feel cornered.  "So starting next week, the Highlight Reel will be on both Monday AND Thursday nights.  And my inaugural Smackdown guest will be none other than the billion dollar princess herself, Stephanie McMahon."  He winked as the WWE logo came up and the screen faded to black. 

"This is definitely not good," I mumbled, going to turn off the TV.  Not only would I have to avoid him twice a week from now on, I'd also have to endure his ridicule on his show.  I quickly gathered my things, unlocked the door to my office, and made my way to the parking lot, feeling completely vulnerable.  There was no way of knowing what he would say to me next Monday, what he would tell the audience; and the lack of control was eating at my nerves.  Spying my limo to the immediate left of the arena entrance, I handed the chauffeur my briefcase and got into the back seat.  I waited nervously until the limo started moving, then breathed a sigh of relief, leaning down to remove my shoes.

"I had a feeling you would run off again."  My breath caught in my throat as I looked up into Jericho's eyes.  He sat directly across from me, wearing a towel over his 'ring attire'.  "Good thing I had my bag packed already."  He gestured to the gym bag beside him on the seat. 

*Why did I have to get the biggest limo again?* I wondered.  Even if I had looked up, I probably wouldn't have noticed him; he was a good ten feet away from me.  "I think you have a secret pension for wearing women's underwear," I commented, gesturing at mangled bra he still wore.

He looked down, and blushed slightly as he unhooked the lingerie.  I eyed the newly exposed skin before meeting his eyes again.  "Enjoy the show?" he smirked, tossing the item at me.

Shrieking, I threw the sweaty bra back at him.  "You're disgusting," I chided, turning to look out the window.  Even though he was sweaty, smelly, and dressed in obviously borrowed women's underwear, I was still turned on.  I groaned inwardly, wondering why my libido was in overdrive every time Chris Jericho was around, and tried to convince myself it was because I hadn't had sex in over a year.

"So, what did you think of my reward?"  I ignored him, staring out at the dark streets of Orlando.  Catching my drift, he sighed and fidgeted in his seat.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him looking out of his own window, and suppressed a smirk, pleased that I 'won' this battle. 

Listening to the car hum, I quickly became bored with the local scenery.  I itched to start a new quarrel with Jericho, but decided to turn my attention to my wounded arm.  The painful throbs had ceased during my talk with Kurt; upon further examination I noticed that the swelling had gone down marginally.  I knew that I had to get the pressure cuff off for awhile, until my flight home tomorrow caused it to swell once again.  Continuing to ignore Jericho (whom I hoped wouldn't start asking questions again), I reached behind my neck and unclipped the sling, scratching the irritated skin on my nape happily.  Removing the sling from my arm, I rolled up the sleeve of my black blouse and took a deep breath, ready to roll down the cuff.

I heard rather than saw Jericho get up, taking a seat besides me.  I paused, sending him a questioning look, which he returned with caution.  "Let me?" he asked simply, touching the black bruise that was just visible above the cuff. 

*It DOES hurt a lot less if someone else does it for you.*  Before I knew it, I nodded slowly, keeping his gaze while holding my sleeve up for him.  "It's easier if you roll it down, instead of pulling from the bottom," I suggested quietly, turning my attention to his soft touch.  I held my breath as he slowly rolled down the cuff to my wrist, trying not to yelp as the blood rushed to my hand.  His hands left my wrist to trace the black and red mottled skin, careful not to press too hard.  I grew warmer as he continued to caress my arm, and knew that I had to distance myself, and fast.  Clearing my throat, I let go of my sleeve and placed a hand on his wrist, pushing him away.  "Thank you," I whispered.

Jericho's eyes met my own, his hand now caressing my own with the same softness.  "I hate to bring this up again, but I think this arm needs to be checked out again."  His eyes held a plea to agree with him. 

I shook my head stubbornly.  "No.  There is nothing else they can do, except prescribe painkillers."  Running my hand nervously through my hair, I made the quick decision to tell him just enough to keep him from dragging me to the hospital.  However, I was unsure of where to stop; plus, could I really trust him with even a minimal amount of information?  "If I tell you something… something private… could you keep it a secret?"

He continued to caress my hand, nodding in consent.  I frowned, stopping his movements with my swollen hand.  "I'm serious, Chris.  I don't want this getting around, especially on the Highlight Reel…" I trailed off, beginning to lose my nerve. 

Jericho studied me for a moment, and then nodded again.  "This has to be good, if you're this paranoid about me tattling."

I sent him an exasperated look, but he merely shrugged and waited for my revelation.  Taking a deep breath, I pushed away the fear and gave in to the urge to tell him.  "My arm isn't sprained.  My lymphedema is acting up because of the bruising; the doctor calls it a traumatic injury.  My arm should be back to normal in a few weeks."  His eyes held a question, and I had a good idea of what that question was.  "Lymphedema occurs when the lymph fluid cannot drain properly from an appendage.  I had a few lymph nodes removed from my left armpit last spring.  Kurt smashing into me on Monday caused the blockage, so my arm is basically a water balloon filled with lymph fluid.  The fluid has to drain through the bloodstream, which takes a lot longer…"

"Wait a second," Jericho interrupted, running a hand through his matted hair.  "Why did you have to have them removed?  That's not a common procedure or anything."

I shook my head; if I told him they were cancerous, he would only ask more questions.  Turning to look out the window again, I tried to smile.  "I told you why my arm is swollen so you wouldn't drag me to the hospital.  I never agreed to tell you my entire medical history."

"Are you sick or something?" he asked quietly.  My eyes flew to his in horror; before I could mask my expression, he held my chin in place in order to keep eye contact.  "You are sick, your face gives it away." 

The wheels in my brain churned out lie after excuse after explanation, but none were satisfactory.  It had been proven time and time again that he knew me well enough to call any bullshit I threw his way; therefore I settled on a half-truth.  "I am not sick anymore, not since I had my lymph nodes removed."  *I'm in remission now* my brain finished.  Still not convinced, he shook his head, and I reached up to touch the hand that held my chin.  "I'm ok," I murmured.

The look was back in his eyes, the one I had seen hours ago.  He was going to kiss me; but this time, I couldn't let it happen.  * He only kissed you last time to get out of a match,* a voice in my head sang out, and I winced.  However, as he leaned closer, I gave in and allowed his lips to brush mine. 

"Ms. McMahon?"  We both jumped as the chauffeur spoke through the speaker.  "We have arrived at the hotel.  May I assist you in exiting the limo?" 

Jericho mumbled something about impeccable timing as I leaned over to hit the intercom button.  "That would be great, thanks."  Picking up my sling and my cuff, I opened the door.

His hand grabbed my arm gently.  "Stephy," he began. 

Suddenly fear coursed through me, and I didn't want to hear what he had to say.  "Stop it," I bit out, shaking off his grip.  "You kissed me earlier to get out of a match, and now you do it out of pity?  You're sick!"  My voice rose as I became more upset. 

"Steph…"

"Stop playing with me, dammit!" I screeched, channeling my father.  Climbing out of the limo, I grabbed my suitcase from the driver and made my getaway into the hotel.  Running away from Jericho was becoming second nature, and yet I had no idea why I kept doing it.  *I'll have to discuss it with Dr. McKeon tomorrow.*

END CHAPTER FIVE

Author's notes:  First off, Happy November!  Sorry I couldn't churn this out sooner; the story is written in my head people, I just don't have the time to type it out.  Stupid higher education and the petty demands of the dictators (see: professors) here.  However, like I have said before, I appreciate you coming back and reading each new chapter.

I'd like to thank everyone who did the free mammogram link during the last few days of October.  It was a true deal- you didn't have to buy anything, it literally took a second, and you could possibly save a life.  If only all things were this simple. 

Oh, and EdgeChick816 - do you still want to edit these things?  Let me know! 

Take care and bring on the reviews.  Or e-mails.  Or IMs.  :)