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.  Louise McKeon is my own fictional character; any semblance to an actual person is coincidental and accidental.  She can be borrowed with my explicit permission.  Vince, please don't sue me, I can barely scrape together enough money to go to Taco Bell these days.

Façade

CHAPTER SIX

            "Miss McMahon!  Come in!" Dr. McKeon greeted warmly, stepping aside from her office doorway.  Faking a smile, I walked past her and examined her office.  The entire north wall was a small library of books and journals.  Leather armchairs were scattered throughout, while the trademark couch stood before a large picture window.  Uncomfortable with the idea of lying down, I chose to sit in a cozy leather armchair that sat before a rather handsome oak desk. 

            A hand touched the top of my sling. "My goodness, what happened to your arm?"

            "Accident at work," I replied, laughing inwardly at the thought of Kurt's behind as an accident.

            The doctor nodded, taking a seat on the opposite side of the desk.  "Well I hope your lymphedema gets better soon, before more drastic measures must be taken."  I looked at her with surprise, until I realized that I had mentioned my lymph node removal at the last support group meeting.  *She's good,* I thought to myself, watching her lean back in her chair, her face filled with unrepressed curiosity.  "Why have you come today, Miss McMahon?"

            I frowned.  *Didn't she chase me down in the parking lot and beg me to come to see her? * "Why did I come?" I repeated.  "Didn't you want me to come?"

            She let out a short laugh, her hand covering a small grin.  "I am just surprised to see you, is all.  You haven't let your guard down since we met."

            My frown grew deeper as I took in her comment.  This experience was becoming more regrettable by the minute.  "Maybe you haven't earned my trust yet," I shot back, crossing my right arm over my sling. 

            She held up her hands in surrender. "Please don't get offended!  I was just speaking my mind.  Psychologists tend to do that."  I rolled my eyes.  "Believe it or not, I've seen this before.  Your behavior is similar to that of a cancer survivor."

            "Really?"  I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

            "Well, yes and no.  All cancer patients are initially in shock and become overprotective of their personal lives.  But it appears you never moved on from this stage."  She paused, leaning closer.  "I wonder… how many people know about your ordeal?"

            I frowned deeper.  "What does that have to do with anything?"  Dr. McKeon gave me a pointed look, her ever-present smile fading, and I sighed.  Like it or not, Dawn Marie had convinced me earlier in the week that therapy could help me out; in order for this to work, though, I'd have to play along.  "Besides you and the support group, two people."

            I waited for a look of shock, disbelief, any change in emotion.  Instead she continued to hold my gaze.  "And are these two people family members?"

            "No."

            This garnered a furrowed brow.  "You mean to tell me that the two that know do not include your parents?"

            I shrugged; this woman obviously did not watch WWE programming.  My family was lucky to have two speaking members at once, much less entire family confessionals.  "I have a rather atypical family, Dr. McKeon.  I have only told my two best friends."  A thought crossed my mind, and I felt the need to continue.  "An employee knows about my lymphedema, but I'm afraid he'll know the truth soon enough."

            "Why is that?" 

            I sighed at her question.  "If you met him, you'd understand.  He's arrogant and conceited and loves seeing me at a disadvantage."  *And gorgeous!* my mind added, bringing a recent bra and panties match to mind.

            Dr. McKeon waved a dismissive hand.  "I meant, why are you afraid?"

            I looked down, contemplating her question.  *Why was I afraid of him knowing?*  "I just am.  It'll ruin everything I have worked for."

            "Ruin everything, huh," she repeated, making a random note on a piece of paper.  Tapping a finger against her lips, she appraised me for a moment.  "How long have you had feelings for this employee?"

            I flushed.  How in God's name did she come up with that!  "I am not in love with him!" I retorted.

            She gave me a large smile.  "Oh, so you're in love with him."  Realizing my blunder, I covered my eyes with my free hand and groaned.  "It's ok Miss McMahon.  You obviously care about him, enough that you don't want him to see you in any negative light."  She took a breath and leaned forward, capturing my attention with a rather serious face.  "You've spent over a year building a wall to protect yourself from others, including him.  However, you've also kept in the pain of cancer.  You may be in remission physically, but mentally you haven't healed a bit."

            I was both speechless and skeptical.  It made sense, but could my pain really be characterized in such a selfish light?  "So you're saying that I'm mentally ill?"  I purposely misunderstood, wanting a clarification.

            Dr. McKeon smiled, moving to stand up.  "You know I didn't say that.  You are a very perceptive young lady.  Stubborn, but perceptive."  I began to retort when she held up a hand, going to stand by her window.  "Miss McMahon, hear me out for a second:  I want to help you take down this wall.  I want you to heal.  I want you to be able to trust people and actually live your life, because you have been given a second chance at it!  But you're going to have to stop arguing with me and start changing your attitude to what happened to you!"

            My temper rose, and I stood up as well.  "First of all, I argue with everyone, Dr. McKeon, and I have no intentions of changing that."  Giving a smirk, I mulled over her proposal and decided to run with it.  "Secondly, I know it was wrong to keep people from knowing, including my family, but there were circumstances that you just don't understand…"

            "… Like your ex-husband and your father kicking you out of the WWE?" 

            I gaped openly.  "How on Earth…" I stammered out.

            "I had a patient a few months ago who was an employee of your company, and I found myself having to watch the shows to see how my treatment was working.  Your name rang a bell at the first support group meeting."  She looked at me smugly.  "I decided against outing you to the other survivors; after all, we all need our anonymity from time to time."

            "Who was it?" I asked curiously, ignoring her latter comments. 

            "Patient-doctor confidentiality, Miss McMahon.  I'm afraid that I cannot tell you that privileged information."  Moving away from the window, she came to stand before me, extending her hand.  "I'll accept the fact that each meeting will be a battle, as long as you give my opinions a chance.  Deal?"

            Looking at her hand, I found myself torn between accepting her help, or running away from all this psychological bullshit.  "Oh why the hell not," I mumbled, shaking her hand fervently.  "It can't be any worse than what I'm doing now, can it?"

            Dr. McKeon chuckled at my words, then led me to her office door.  "I think that's enough for today, Miss McMahon.  I'll see you next week for our first real session."

            I returned her smile involuntarily, my spirits lifted by our deal.  "Ok.  See you soon."  Nodding at her one last time, I turned and sped out of the door, happy to be leaving half an hour earlier than expected.

            Exiting the office building, I quickly made my way to my car, digging into my pocket to retrieve my keys.  Once inside, I let out a breath I wasn't aware I was even holding.  My mind turned over what she had said during our brief meeting.  *My secret is more cancerous than the cancer itself… *  Needing a second opinion, I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse and called Kurt as I guided my car towards the highway.

            "Hey Steph!  I was just about to call you and see how things went!" Kurt exclaimed over the line.  Caller ID was his favorite technological advance to date.

            "Hey Kurt," I smiled into the phone, happy that he had remembered about my appointment.  "We just finished, and I have to say, it wasn't that bad."

            Kurt made a contented hum.  "See, now, Dawn and I told you it would help!  So what did you talk about?  What did she say?"

            I chuckled at his curiosity.  "Sorry Kurt, that's all confidential.  Wouldn't want to break the doctor-patient trust." 

            "Oh, come on, I've been waiting all day after the autograph session," he whined.  "I would have flown up to Greenwich afterwards and met you for dinner if you hadn't been so obstinate."

            I sighed.  "Kurt, you know exactly why wouldn't let you come up here tonight."

            "Because you take pleasure out of suppressing your best friend's good intentions?"

            I had to giggle at that.  "Well, that, and the last time you stayed at my place you clogged my downstairs toilet with puke."  He growled playfully as I reflected on that night.  "Who'd thought that my Olympic Hero would succumb to only five Heineken's?"

            "Hey!  That's the reason I always stick to milk!" he defended.  We laughed together for a few minutes, until I was reminded of the real reason I called and stopped laughing abruptly.  "Hey, what's wrong?"

            "Kurt…" I hesitated briefly, then pushed my fears aside.  "Do you think that I should tell everyone about the cancer?"

            The line was silent for a moment.  "Well, eventually…"  He trailed off, then cleared his throat.  "I mean, once you are more comfortable with it.  I think it could be really good for you to get it off your chest.  You won't have to worry about the secret being discovered because you did the revealing… does that make sense?"

            I groaned.  "Perfect sense, unfortunately.  I was afraid you were going to say that."

            "It's your decision Steph.  I will support you no matter what.  I'm just glad you told me."

            I smiled.  "Honestly, Kurt, so am I."  Turning my attention back to the road, I saw that I was nearing my neighborhood and had to chuckle at my autopilot driving skills.  "Well, I'm almost home.  Can I call you later?"

            "Actually, no.  I have plans."

            I frowned.  "Really?  Do you have a date?" I asked, turning my car into my driveway.

            "Yep, dinner with my best friend." 

            "What!"  Confused, I looked up to see a figure waving on my front porch.  "Kurt, you idiot!" I cried happily as I turned off the ignition and scrambled to get out of my car.

            "Steph, you can hang up the phone now," he laughed.  Hitting the end button, I raced over and gave him a huge hug with my right arm.  "What a greeting!" he commented, returning my hug carefully.

            Pulling back, I punched his shoulder with a smirk.  "I told you to stay in Florida," I growled, then hugged him tighter. 

            "You can't order me around outside the arena, Ms. McMahon," he joked lightly.  "Besides, I told you, we're in this together now."

            "Oh Kurt."  That was all I could manage to say.  Blinking back tears, I thanked
God once again for giving me such a great friend.  Breaking our hug, I gave him a huge smile before walking around him to open the front door.

            Stepping out of my shoes in the foyer, I tossed my purse and keys on the side table, immediately taking note of the blinking light on the answering machine.  "That's strange," I mumbled aloud.

            "What's strange?" Kurt asked, hopping on one foot as he yanked his boot off of the other.

            I pointed to the machine.  "Someone called my house phone.  Nobody ever does that."  Reaching over, I hit the blinking button, shrugging off my coat in the process.

            *BEEP* "Stephanie… It's Chris."  I froze in mid-shrug, staring at the machine and the scratchy voice it emanated.  "I tried calling your cell phone, but I guess you've gotten a new number in the last year and a half."  There was a pause, and I found myself begging for the message to continue.  "I need to talk to you about our little limo ride last night.  Call my cell – my number hasn't changed." A short chuckle was cut off by a dial tone.

            Quietly, I reached over, erasing the message, my mind puzzling over the true meaning of the message.  Once again, Jericho's actions had confused the hell out of me.  Tracing the speaker of the machine lightly, I tore my gaze away to meet Kurt's furious face.  "What?"

            "What!  You ask me what!"  He put his hands on his hips.  "What was that all about?  What happened in the limo?  Why is that jerk calling you?"

            I blushed a bit, thinking of Jericho's half-nakedness, my confession, and our heated kiss.  "It's a long story… one that requires alcohol.  Want a beer?"       

            Kurt frowned deeper.  "Oh, this has to be good."  Coming over to my side, he wrapped an arm around me and guided me to the kitchen.  "This better be worth another Olympic sized hangover, Steph."   

END CHAPTER SIX