DISCLAIMER: I do not own the wrestlers that appear in the following story. They are the property of the actors and actresses that portray them, as well as the WWE.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hi all; this little one-shot came to me after I saw Stephanie's taped interview for the Smackdown Anniversary Special. After many many many weeks of agonizing over it, I've decided to just bite the bullet and post. Hope you like it – review and let me know what you think! :)

VIDEOTAPE

Pajamas? Check. Snuggly blanket? Check. Pint of Double Fudge Brownie ice cream? Check.

Stephanie nodded as she went through her mental checklist. It was another boring weekday night, and the extent of her plans included watching television and feeling sorry for herself. While the former required a checklist to ensure an optimal experience, the latter didn't take much effort at all.

With a sigh, the brunette settled herself on her couch, tucking a gray blanket around her exposed feet. Ever since she was fired from the family business, the majority of her nights were spent like this: sitting at home and wasting away. At first, she had spent her time battling her father and devising plans for her return. However, she lost her drive, and accepted the fact that until her father needed her back in the wrestling world, she would be forced to live a life outside of it. And for awhile there, she made a good go at a new life.

The new Stephanie started an accounting practice, to occupy her days. She threw away all her slutty clothes and cut her brown locks to her shoulder. If General Manager Stephanie was all grown up, then this Stephanie was a full-fledged adult. Her new life involved new challenges and new acquaintances; slowly, she felt her old self and her old desires slip away.

Then, her mother had to go and ruin it all for her.

Just as her firm was picking up speed, she received that blasted invitation to tape a segment for Smackdown, to celebrate the show's anniversary. She balked at the idea; new Stephanie didn't care about wrestling. She couldn't put herself out there again, raise her hopes at the idea of her return, only to find that her father's new whore didn't like alpha females.

But then again, she refused to let people forget about her. Despite the humiliation she had suffered at the hands of her father, she was still Stephanie McMahon. She wanted the fans to remember who she was, remember that they missed her just as badly as she missed the business. So she committed to the interview, and spent three days deciding on who and what she'd talk about.

It almost felt like a dream now; the drive to the WWE headquarters, the bright lights shining in her face, the camera staring her down a few feet away…

There were no phone calls from corporate after that. No 'great segment' or 'job opportunities' or even 'you looked gorgeous' statements. Her family had washed their hands of her yet again; unfortunately, she couldn't wash her hands of the memories and emotions that the interview brought back to mind.

Shaking her head, Stephanie mentally reprimanded herself for getting caught up in that 'old life bullshit'. She didn't need the WWE; she had her firm and her reputation and this melting tub of ice cream. Life wasn't all that bad.

Just as she turned on the Lifetime Movie Channel (hoping for a sappy romance movie, rather than one of those child abduction ones), her doorbell rang. Having no desire to get up from her seat, she grabbed her spoon and dug into her ice cream.

Three doorbell rings later, she was thoroughly irritated. Slamming her hand on the armrest, she stomped to the door and flung it open. "What do you think…"

Chris Jericho was standing on her front porch.

"You're doing," she managed to finished, forcing herself not to gape. She wished she could change her question to 'what the hell are you doing here?", but that seemed a bit irrelevant at this point.

"Took you long enough," the blond man grumbled. "Can I come in?"

"Uh…." Beyond confused at his presence, she stepped aside and allowed him entry.

Chris walked in, passing through the foyer as he moved into her living room. She opened her mouth to complain, but shut it just as quickly, not particularly wanting to argue with the blond Canadian just yet. At least, not until she figured out why he was here on a random Thursday night.

His blue eyes swept the room, before landing on the television. Immediately his brow furrowed. "You're not watching Smackdown?" he asked, still facing the flickering screen.

She shrugged. "I used to keep up, but then I lost interest." Walking towards the couch, she sat Indian style on her blanket and picked up her forgotten ice cream.

"You lost interest? A McMahon lost interest in wrestling?"

"Let's just say that the lead pipe my father choked me out with left a sour taste in my mouth," she retorted dryly. She then noticed a videotape clutched in his left hand, and deduced his motive for coming here tonight. "Is this about my interview?"

"No… well, partially…" Chris raked a hand through his hair and faced the woman on the couch. "How could you forget about me?"

If she was confused before, her brain could be declared MIA from the current conversation. "Excuse me?"

Chris waved around the tape in his hand. "This is what I'm talking about," he said as he walked towards her entertainment center, pushed the tape into the VCR, and hit play.

Stephanie watched herself talk about her memorable Smackdown moments, chuckling when the clip of Kurt kissing her flashed on the screen. The memories that she had pushed away just a few minutes ago were back full force, and she couldn't stop them this time.

When the interview ended, Chris immediately stopped the tape and began glaring at her. "So?" he questioned, crossing his arms.

"Not bad. The production crew did a great job mixing my interview with the actual footage…" she trailed off as she noticed Chris turning beet red. "What?"

"YOU DIDN'T TALK ABOUT ME!" he shouted, his anger exploding.

She blinked a few times in surprise. "We didn't really have any Smackdown moments, Chris. Our big moments were those kisses, and those were during pay-per-views." She flushed a bit at the memory, her mind lingering on that Summerslam kiss. Boy, she still felt weak in the knees from that one.

"She says we don't have any moments…" Chris said, more to himself than to her. "Allow me to refresh your memory, Stephy." The tape was turned back on

Stephanie watched a younger version of herself get insulted by the Rock and Chris Jericho before Chris thanked her for 'the mammaries'. There was that incident in 2001 where they argued in his locker room before he touched her on the cheek and commented on her knowing 'big ones'. The Smackdown where they became business partners. The handshake from her General Manager days, when she asked him if he was happy.

When a clip from the Smackdown before Wrestlemania X-8 played, she clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh. "God, I forgot about that night. You were wearing that 'Larger than Life' t-shirt…"

"And you told me to take it off, so that Hunter could see my larger than life body," Chris finished with a chuckle. "As I do recall, you were pretty eager to rip that baby off of me."

"Whatever," she dismissed, but her cheeks were still warm. The last thing she wanted to do was fuel Jericho's insane ego by complimenting his fabulous body. The thought of his body then reminded her of her old crush on him, and she frowned.

Giving her an odd look, he reached over and turned off the tape. "What?"

She gazed into his eyes for a second, then focused on her coffee table. "Why did you do all of this? It was just a silly interview for Smackdown."

"I wanted to make sure you hadn't forgotten about me," he replied evenly.

Stephanie snorted. "Forget about the Living Legend? Impossible!"

A tense silence filled the room after her response. Stephanie, in particular, had been quieted by the irony of her comments. Had she forgotten about Jericho? How could she ever have forgotten someone who used to hourly plague her thoughts? Someone who made her blood boil with a phrase or a comment, or even by his silence.

"Where's your bathroom?" he asked before walking down the closest hallway without an answer. She wasn't thrown off by his departure; if roles were reversed, and she was the visitor, she'd probably be fleeing as well. Heck, she wouldn't be surprised if he made up an excuse and left her… problem was, she was desperate for his company, anything to keep the loneliness away.

The tape (which Chris had rewinding) popped out of the VCR, startling her from her silly thoughts. Standing up, she ambled over to retrieve it, figuring that if she was right about his probably departure, she'd save him the trouble of getting it himself.

She chuckled to herself as she pulled out the tape; she wondered who he had bribed to compile those moments as she wandered over towards the entrance of the living room.

The toilet flushing nearby signaled his eventual reappearance, and she steeled her spine for his departure and the return of her empty home. She lifted the tape, only to notice that the blank label was peeling off slightly in the corner, revealing another label underneath.

If he was going to leave her alone, she might as well investigate. Sliding one manicured tip underneath the loosened label, she carefully removed the false label…

…only to discover another underneath. A yellowed tag, with 'Steph Me #3' written in permanent marker. And if she wasn't mistaken, that was Chris's all-caps handwriting.

Instantly, something stirred underneath her left ribcage. Something she hadn't felt in ages; something she had long left for dead: her heart. Her other hand moved to rest on the area; the long absent organ beating frantically as she mentally ran through the possibilities of this discovery.

It was one thing for Chris Jericho to show up on her doorstep with a tape of all their Smackdown memories. It was quite another for him to show up with his personal tape (#3 of at least three, to boot) of their interactions on TV.

With the resurrection of her heart, Old Stephanie had grabbed the reigns back and was now in full control of her body. Forgotten feelings, grudges, emotions coursed through her, causing her knees to tremble and beg to give way.

She felt alive. A bit nervous, a lot curious, but mostly alive. And it was a glorious homecoming.

Her blond companion finally exited the bathroom; spying her standing near the end of the hallway, he strolled over towards her, a cocky smirk on his face. "Miss me?"

Perhaps he was looking for a verbal retort, but she chose to hug him instead. "You have no idea," she mumbled into his chest as she pressed herself against him.

Surprised, Chris rested his hands on her shoulders and let her squeeze for a moment before pushing her back to look in her face. There was no sign of upset or distress; just the usual McMahon glint in her blue eyes. "Everything alright, Princess?" he questioned anyway.

She nodded, raising the tape to eye level. "Are there more than three?"

His brow furrowed, but quickly smoothed out when he noticed the original label staring him down. His first instinct was to panic and run back into the bathroom, lest she start wailing on him with said videotape. However, her eyes didn't hold any of their usual malice… just that unnerving glint. Deciding to take a chance, he shook his head slowly. "Nope, just three. Raws, PPVs, and Smackdowns."

Her heart was beating faster, causing a lump to rise in her throat. "Wh.. why?" she choked out, her eyes scanning his for any hint of an answer.

He looked away sorrowfully. "It's a stupid reason," he grumbled.

"No!" she half-yelled, startling him into looking back at her. "Tell me the truth, Chris."

He was losing herself in her pleading gaze, but his pride refused to let him answer. "I wanted to remember all those great lines I used on you…"

She poked him in the check with the corner of the tape. "The truth…"

Chris continued to babble on. "I also would play the tapes on Halloween to scare little kids."

"The truth."

"What? You are rather scary on those tapes, ya know!"

She wouldn't be goaded, not this time. "Please Chris, the truth?"

"Because," he stopped, sneering at her. "Because I hated you."

That brought a smile to her face. "Do you still hate me Chris? Cause God knows I still hate you."

He blinked, took a step back from the apparently deaf woman in front of him. "Of course I still hate you, Princess. I'll hate you until the day I die; and even then, I'm putting in a bad word for you in Heaven."

Making a happy sound, Stephanie threw herself back into his arms. "I feel the same way!" she exclaimed before pulling his head down for a kiss.

He was stunned for half a second, but at the insistence of her tongue became an active participant in their third official kiss. He didn't regret it, though. Milliseconds before she broke away he errantly wondered if he actually hated her; maybe it was something stronger than hate that plagued him.

Gasping for air, Stephanie opened her passion-filled eyes and caught sight of his confused little boy expression. She also remembered the videotape that she still firmly grasped, which gave her quite the idea. Leaning to her left, she placed it on a nearby table before grabbing his hand and dragging him down the hall.

"Where are we going?" he asked as he allowed her to pull him up the stairs.

She threw a lascivious grin over her left shoulder. "I've got an idea for video number four."

THE END!