"So, what am I supposed to do?" Stevie asked, feeling suddenly hostile and unsure. She sat nervously across from Dr. Sherman. She'd argued with her parents for a solid hour about coming here. They had, of course, won in the end. It was perfect actually - her whole pathetic arc ending up with her sitting in front of a therapist - her mother's therapist no less!

"There aren't rules." Dr. Sherman said.

"My mom comes to see you?"

"Yes."

"She talks to you about Iran?"

"Sometimes she does," Dr. Sherman answered honestly.

"Does she talk about me?" Stevie knew she was being ridiculous but figured she was killing time.

"She has."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that! I bet she's got a list of complaints about me." Dr. Sherman didn't respond and Stevie considered her next move.

"Your father also talks to me, if that's your next question. He mostly talks about your mother though, not too much about you, your sister and brother." Dr. Sherman said with a smile. "So now that we got all that out of the way, why don't you tell me why you are here?"

Stevie sighed staring out the window. "Didn't they tell you? I'm the McCord who completely fucked up her life."

***MS***

Stevie faced her parents, sitting in the straight back chair. Her mother sat across from her. Her father stood beside the couch.

"Okay." He said sitting next to his wife. "Jason's at the movies and Alison is at Isla's so are you ready?"

"Yeah." She looked down at her feet.

"What about Dr. Sherman?" Her mother asked softly.

"She was nice." Stevie shrugged. "I think I should go again, if that's alright,"

"Of course!" Her father said.

The silence hung between them like a curtain, separating them. Stevie shifted uncomfortably.

"I wanted to say again how sorry I am." She exhaled slowly. "I didn't understand at all. Panic attacks are really, really horrible. I know that you're angry," She looked up at her father. "You have every right to be! I hurt her . . ." She struggled briefly. "I hurt her on purpose."

"Why?" Her mother's question was soft and gentle.

Stevie stifled a sob. "Because I'm . . . I've got a lot of stuff I haven't told you." She looked up meeting her mother's eyes. "I know what I said that all of this is because of your job, but it isn't. I've been messed up for awhile now and I was trying to ignore it, but that doesn't work. It spills out on everyone."

Her mother leaned forward, reaching for her hands. "You can tell me anything, Stevie. Anything at all. I love you. It won't matter."

"I wanted to be perfect." Stevie said her eyes bright with tears. "I wanted to do everything right!" Her voice broke and she looked down, pulling her hands back from her mother's, ashamed.

"Baby! No one is ever perfect! You of all people should know this!" Her mother leaned forward. "Look at me!"

"I do." Stevie said. "All the time. You are beautiful and confident. You are strong and determined. You were first in your class, and finished your bachelor's in three years when everyone around you took five. You are so intelligent the CIA recruited you! And you are unfailingly patient and kind. Hell! You were the hula hoop champion of summer camp when you were seven!"

"I was runner up." Her mother corrected. "You are leaving so much out, Stevie. I was also a scared, homesick kid at boarding school, and I'm a horrible, horrible cook. Plus I never once finger painted with any of you. And I'm unbelievably driven and stubborn."

"I just wanted to . . . I know it isn't, but you make it look easy. Everything! The way you dress, work, you and Dad - it is seamless!"

"So, this is all your mother's fault?" Her father sat back clearly angry.

"No. Dad it's me! It's completely me!" She sighed sitting back. "I went to school thinking it would be easy - like high school and everything would fall into place, but it was really hard. I didn't feel comfortable - ever. And I couldn't say anything about it because I thought it had to be easy. I thought I was failing."

"Stevie, honey, you can talk to us! You should have . . ."

"I should have." She agreed. "And there's this one thing I never told you." She drew in a deep breath. "I kept it a secret." Her dark eyes were downcast, shame etched on her features. "I met this boy . . ."

"Conner." Her mother said softly and Stevie looked up shocked.

"How did you . . . I never . . .Mom!"

"Yes, you did. The first week you met him. Then a few months later you mentioned him again and then at Winter Break you were so sad. I figured it was over. I tried to . . . You wouldn't talk about him."

Stevie stared at her mother, completely stunned. "I didn't . . .you knew?"

"I wanted to know about him. You wouldn't talk." Her mother explained.

"He wouldn't let me." Stevie ducked her head. "This is what I'm so . . ." Her voice broke. "I'm so ashamed."

"Stephanie Elizabeth what happened?" She turned to face her father, his voice unrecognizable. His face was white and his jaw tight.

"I thought it was love; so romantic. He said that everything should be private. I was so stupid!"

She stifled a sob. "I thought he would be like you." She turned to her father. "It never occurred to me that he would be so . . .disrespectful! I was so dumb! And I can't believe I let him treat me like that - that I was so stupid! I know better!"

"Did he . . ." Her father knelt in front of her. "Stevie, did he hit you?"

"No." She shook her head. "He just . . . He manipulated me. He controlled everything - what I wore, how I spent my time, who I talked too." She looked down at her hands. "I am so ashamed. It's just so pathetic! You taught me to be . . . I'm willingly participating in some pathetic abusive relationship, while Mom's on the short list for Secretary of State! I mean how freaking pathetic is that!" She covered her face with her hands.

"Stevie . . ." Her mother said softly.

"And then," She dropped her hands, interrupting her mother and forcing herself to finish the whole shameful story. "Right before finals, I came back to my room and he was . . .he was in bed with Maggie." She shook her head. "And the jackass tried to make excuses - to blame her; to blame me!" She stood suddenly, wiping her face with her hands. "So there you have it. I went from valedictorian to a stupid character in a bad Hallmark Movie - He Done Me Wrong starring Stevie McCord, former self-respecting ace." She stood shoulders slumped, waiting.

Her father rose, and slamming his fist against the coffee table, he paced out of the room. Stevie dropped her head shame washing over her in waves.

"He's furious. That's all." Her mother stepped in front of her, her hands on Stevie's arms. "Right now, all he can think about is killing the little bastard, honey. He's not disappointed or mad at you. He is enraged." She reached out running a soft hand over Stevie's face. "Did he . . . were you . . ."

"He didn't rape me." Stevie told her. "I mean it's not like I don't think he was above that, I think he just sensed that was where I would draw the line. He never forced me. I feel so sick to remember I went to him willingly." Fresh sobs escaped her. "I can't accept that I'm this dumb! I let him derail my whole life!"

Her mother pulled her in, and she found herself clinging on tightly. "Listen, Stevie. You are still you. You are strong, talented and so intelligent. And I am so sorry that you've kept this to yourself all this time. I'm sorry that you felt you couldn't tell us. It doesn't change anything, sweetie. I'm so proud of you! Your Dad and I are both so proud of you!" She looked up at Henry who stood in the doorway, watching them.

"I'm sorry, Stephy." He said moving closer. "I'm sorry you fought this all alone." He wrapped his arms around them both. "Mom's right. Every molecule in my body wants to find him and . . ."

"Henry," Her mother said gently. "Not now."

"Right." He said. "Mama's right, Stephy. You are so smart, and kind and sweet. We are proud of you! We are so proud of you." He kissed her forehead. "And we will do whatever it takes to make sure you are feeling better. I'll move earth and heaven to make that happen, sweetheart."

She stepped back from their embrace. "I really, really hated going to Dr. Sherman. I mean really hated it but you were right. It really helped and . . ." She drew in a deep breath, finally strong enough to say what she needed. "I know your schedules are really crazy and . . ."

"We'll go." Her mother interrupted her voice firm. "Absolutely. Whatever you need."

"Nothing outside of this house is more important than the people inside this house." Her father said, wrapping an arm around each of them. "That's not ever going to change. Things are more complicated now and we have to work harder but it is still true. We will do whatever you need, Stevie. You are our sweetest dream, and we love you."

It washed over her like a wave; their love. She felt it wash away her shame and anguish. She curled into her father's arms, her mother wrapping around from behind. She had thought telling them would destroy her; destroy them. She had so badly wanted to maintain the same image that was captured in her high school yearbook - the perfect student; the perfect daughter.

Resting in the arms of her parents, truly honest with them for the first time in nearly two years, feeling the power of their love, compassion and forgiveness, she recognized that it was the perfect place to fall.