Disclaimer Seth Rollins, and the various other superstars mentioned in this story are the property of the WWE and/or the actors / sports entertainers / superstars that portray them. This story is intended as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights.

Original characters are the property of myself, and only children of my own imagination. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.


The Girl Who Lives
Part Twelve

Seth knew he should sleep that day, but wired up on so much caffeine, he also knew that if he tried, it would be jittery, nervous sleep. And since he wanted to be able to keep a similar schedule as Payton and Kayla while he was here, he decided that he would get through today and go to bed early that night.

They went to lunch at a small restaurant close to the hospital, where they served enormous salads that were mostly greens and vegetables with extras if you wanted them. All three of them ordered grilled chicken and pecans. Payton asked for extra tomatoes and raw broccoli to be added to hers.

"It's not a problem getting this one to eat healthy," Kayla remarked.

Payton looked up and shrugged. "I like vegetables." Then she frowned. "Is that weird?"

"Not at all," Seth assured her. "The fact that you like vegetables is fantastic. I promise you, you can have all the vegetables you want while you stay with us." Kayla was quick to agree, which had the girl smiling.


When they were done eating, Seth asked if he could be dropped off at the Crossfit center for a few hours. He knew a good work out would recharge the batteries and allow him to stay awake for the rest of the day and he'd just feel better in general. Kayla remarked that she had errands to do in the area, so she would be happy to drop him off. Fortunately, Seth kept a bag with work out clothes in the car, so they didn't have to go home for those.

When they came back to get him, Seth barely recognized Payton at first glance. Kayla had taken her to have her hair done. It was still long, but about three inches of straggly split ends were trimmed and in a similar style to what Nikki Bella had done the first day he met her, her hair in the front had been braided and wrapped around to the back to keep the hair from falling in her face. It was a sweet, innocent style and it fit Payton perfectly. She also was wearing brand new sneakers on her feet, a brilliant blue with screaming yellow laces in them. Kayla would tell him later that she noticed the toes were wearing out of Payton's old sneakers and when the store measured her, they told her the old sneakers were three sizes too small.

"Wow," Seth said, looking at her admiringly, "Is this the same Payton Caldwell who I had lunch with, earlier?"

"Of course it is," she said, shaking her head, blushing slightly.

"I don't know," he teased. "That Payton was a very pretty young lady. You, on the other hand, are stunning."

Her blush deepened and she fidgeted a bit, as if compliments were so rare to her, especially about her looks, that she had no clue how to react. Then she finally looked at him shyly and said, "Thank you."

When they got home, Kayla wanted to go to her yoga class, so Seth volunteered to cook dinner. "I was hoping you'd offer," Kayla said, a rather cheeky grin spreading across her face. "I picked up all the things you need for stir fry. I think Payton would like that."

"Wow, I was just thinking stir fry would be good," Seth said, grinning back. "And you're right, Payton with her love of vegetables, will probably like it." He turned to Payton. "Do you want to help?"

Payton nodded eagerly. "My dad never cooks!"

"It's a new day," Seth remarked. "Men can do anything women can and vice versa."

"Almost anything," Kayla reminded him, "You still haven't mastered that having babies thing, yet."

"True," Seth said, grinning, "But science is making advances every day."


When Kayla left, Seth started pulling everything he needed out of the refrigerator. He set Payton to washing vegetables. There were both chicken tenderloins and boneless pork chops in the refrigerator. He remembered they had chicken at lunch and pulled out the pork.

For awhile, the two of them worked in companionable silence, only speaking to ask the location of certain items. Payton took her task of washing vegetables seriously, spraying the vegetable cleaner over them and then rinsing them carefully, while Seth handled the knife work, cutting the pork into thin, narrow, strips and cutting up the vegetables.

When everything was cut, Seth checked the time. The fitness center where Kayla had her class was less than a mile away and she walked there. Calculating the time it would take for the dish to cook, he figured they had about twenty minutes before he should start the cooking. He put the meat back into the refrigerator, to keep it cold. "Do you want a drink?" he asked Payton.

"Yes, please," she said, "Aunt Kayla bought some juice for me."

He found several glass bottles of juice on the door of the refrigerator. "What flavor do you want?"

She settled for peach. He grabbed a small bottle of diet Coke and they sat down at the kitchen table. "How are you doing?" he asked her.

She looked at him, head tipped to one side with a puzzled expression. "I'm okay," she said, cautiously. "Why?"

"You're going through a lot," he said, deciding to get to the heart of the matter. "Your brother is sick, for one."

She shrugged. "He's been sick for a long time," she said softly. "I'm used to it."

"He's pretty sick now," Seth commented, wondering if she knew the end was coming.

She nodded. "He's dying," she said, in a very matter-of-fact voice. "He's been dying for a long time, but it's getting closer, now."

He studied her carefully, seeing if her facial expression or body language would give away her true feelings about this, but she seemed relatively calm. "How do you feel about this?"

She stared at him for a long time, as if she was trying to see if he was asking her for a particular answer. Seth did his best to show nothing in his expression, wanting to hear her honest reaction. Finally, she looked away and down at the table. "I want... the... pain... to end," she said, slowly. She paused and swallowed, he could see her throat moving, and he realized her calm facade was just that, a facade, then she looked at him. "He's in pain. I know I'm supposed to pray that he lives, but is it fair?"

"What do you mean?" he asked. He had a pretty good idea what he did mean, but he wanted to hear it from her.

"There are no miracles," she said, and he saw the tears in her eyes, "Not for Preston. If there were, they would have happened by now. Now he just hurts, unless they give him a lot of pain medicine, and then he's stupid and sleepy."

She paused and looked down at the table again, but Seth knew she hadn't finished her thought and didn't want to distract her, so he took a sip of his soda and waited patiently until she looked up at him again. "Is that being alive?" she asked, finally. "Being in pain all the time? Is it really living when all you've got is sleep or stupid?" She waved her hands in a helpless gesture, and he wasn't sure if it was frustration at the situation or frustration at not having the words to express herself. She was only eight, after all, and these were the types of situations adults had trouble grasping, never mind little girls. "He's not Preston anymore," she finally blurted out. "He's the sickness, he's the medicine, but he's not Preston!" She said his name the final time, almost shouting it and then was like a dam inside her burst and she started babbling. "I pray!" she shouted. "I pray all the time, and it isn't working! We all used to pray for hours but it didn't work!" The tears were streaming down her face now, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

Seth grabbed a napkin from the holder on the table and handed it to her. She snatched it from him and wiped her eyes angrily. Seth knew though that the anger wasn't at him, or even at herself, for crying. She was angry at a situation. Odds were she had been drawn in like her parents to the Church of Greedy Jesus and believed for a long time that if she just prayed hard enough, it would work and her brother would be cured.

"I pray now," she said, sniffling. "I pray out loud for Preston to live. But-but-but in my heart, I pray for him to die!" She broke down sobbing then, and buried her face in her arms, shoulders shaking, cries of grief coming from her mouth. And Seth could almost feel that grief, like a huge wall that had Payton isolated from the rest of the world. A wall she built of grief and cemented with guilt. "God isn't going to make him better! If God lets him live, he'll be like he is now! And I don't want that!"

He got up from his chair and went over to her, wanting to comfort her, but she pushed him away. "No!" she cried, shaking her head as well. "Don't touch me!"

He knew she wasn't angry at him, nor was she worried about any improper touching that no doubt she'd been taught was wrong, he knew she didn't want to be held or comforted because she didn't feel worthy. This was the girl who once pointed out to him that the bible said that bad thoughts were the same as bad deeds. Now she just admitted she prayed for her brother's death and likely had for awhile. Sure, when he met Preston, he seemed in pretty good shape for a sick kid, but now he wondered. How many times had he had heard the parents comment that Preston was "having a good day?" How many bad days had there been before then? How many times had Payton seen her brother, crying in agony? Throwing up from the treatments that were supposed to make him better? Preston was a six year old kid, not an age where it was easy to "buck up" or "Fake it 'till you make it." It was likely he had raged over his pain, or whimpered and cried. And Payton had seen it, because Payton was a front row spectator to everything that happened to Preston, forced to go to every hospital, every doctor's appointment, because of a combination of a lack of people to care for the girl, and, he suspected, a deep down desire of her parents to make sure their daughter witnessed what she had wrought. Again, Seth was pretty sure that in their conscious mind, the Caldwells knew that Payton was no more to blame for Preston's illness than air itself, but he was just as sure in their subconscious, they blamed her. Seth believed the Caldwells believed the fall on the ice not only almost cost Andrea the pregnancy, it had set something in motion that later lead to Preston's cancer. And they were going to make sure Payton saw what she had done. They may not have pointed fingers at her, but he bet she knew about slipping on the ice. He would bet when the parents passed around the wonderful story about how, "You almost didn't make it, Pres, my man," in an attempt to make Preston feel that his being in the world was somehow special and preordained, that Payton's part was brought up. "Your sister grabbed you Mommy's hand and pulled her down on the ice!" he heard Myron Caldwell saying in his mind.

"Baby, you've done nothing wrong," Seth said, keeping his voice low and soothing.

"Yes I have!" she screamed this time, a scream so loud that it hurt his ears. "I prayed for him to die! In my heart I'm murdering him!"

"No!" Now it was Seth's turn to yell, although he didn't yell as loud as she did. "It's not murder to not want to see someone suffer, Payton!" And this time he did go over and move her chair around, and even though she fought him, he wrapped his arms around her hugging her. "Payton, you did nothing wrong."

She fought him for a moment and he felt that struggle in her, the struggle to continue to punish herself for her perceived sins, but the other part of her wanting the comfort, wanting to be told by someone she loved and trusted that she wasn't the evil monster she had made herself out to be in her own mind. Finally, she wrapped her arms around him so tightly that his neck actually hurt, and sobbed into his shoulder, almost instantly soaking part of his t-shirt with tears and snot and he didn't care. He just wanted her to hold him tight. He hugged her tighter, as if he could somehow melt part of her into him, the part of her that was carrying the weight of all this guilt. Let me have it, he wanted to say to God, to Jesus, to whatever deity looked down from the sky on this situation. She's too young for this burden, let me carry it!

But, if there was a supreme being watching them, he had long ago cut the cord of direct intervention. Mankind were no longer infants struggling to escape the saber-tooth tiger. Mankind had grown powerful enough to changed most of the world the world to suit their whims, and that deity now left it up to them to fix their own problems. Seth couldn't magically melt her guilt, he had to make her understand that she didn't deserve it and let it go herself. "Pay," he finally said, rubbing her back in comforting circles. "Pay, I need you to listen to me, can you do that?"

She choked back a sob and nodded. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it. He drew away from her and grabbed another napkin from the table. Carefully, tenderly, he wiped the tears from her face, then handed her the napkin so she could blow her nose, which she did, loudly. When she had collected herself, he sat down in the chair she had occupied only moments before and pulled her in his lap. "Pay, I have a very important question to ask you and you need to answer me honestly, can you do that?"

She looked nervous, but she nodded.

"Let's say God came down from heaven, right now, and handed you a pill," Seth said, "And he told you this was a miracle pill. And he told you if you gave it to Preston, it would instantly cure him. It would not only remove the cancer, but it would restore him miraculously and instantly back to the same health he had before he ever got sick. What would you do?"

She didn't hesitate. "I'd ask you to drive me to the hospital right away."

"Why?"

She looked at him as if he were crazy. "To give Preston the pill!"

"Right," Seth nodded. "Because the pill wouldn't just keep him alive, the pill would fix him, the pill would make him better. Payton, you weren't praying that Preston would die because you don't like him, or because you wished ill on him, you've been praying that God will end his suffering."

"No, I prayed to God that I wanted him to die," Payton disagreed. "I used the word, 'die.'"

"Right," Seth nodded again. "Because you know that is the only way to stop the suffering. Baby, if you really wanted Preston dead, if God gave you that pill, you'd throw it away. Or, maybe you wouldn't because you were afraid God would get mad, but what if he told you he didn't care one way or another and he'd think no less of you if you didn't give Preston the pill, would you still?"

"Yes," she said again, then a glimmer came into her eyes. Seth wasn't sure if she fully comprehended what he'd told her, but the beginning of understanding was coming to them. "I would still give him the pill. Because-because-because-" she paused, her shoulders beginning to shake, tears beginning to form again in her eyes. "Because I love him," she said, and this time, she hugged him first and willingly. "I love him, Uncle Seth. He's my brother an' he's a pain in the neck sometimes an' before he got sick, he could be an awful pest, and sometimes now he's an awful pest, but I love him! And I miss him! Because he's not the same anymore! He's just cancer and medicine!"

To this, Seth had nothing of deep insight to say, so he just hugged her and told her that of course she loved her brother. And to himself he wished that somehow, Make-A-Wish was a magical organization that really made wishes come true, because when it came down to it, all these kids they dealt with, meeting the superstars of the WWE wasn't their first wish, their first wish was to stop being sick; to no longer have the hand of death on their shoulder all the time. Everything else was pretty much trying to put frosting on a moldy loaf of bread and calling it cake. He didn't fault the organization at all, he felt the what they did was honorable, and it did make those kids feel special, which was good. But in the face of what these kids were going through, he'd bet most of them would gladly trade any and all the publicity they got to be able to live the 90 or so years their contemporaries would.

When Kayla came home, they were still sitting in the kitchen, she was still in his lap, and he was stroking her hair, but the crying had stopped and there was a bundle of crumbled up napkins on the table. Kayla took in the scene, but did not comment on it, except to say, "So, is everything all right now?"

Seth nodded. "For now, at least," he said, even though deep down he knew things really weren't all right and it would be a long time before they were. But, for right now, Payton had gotten out some of her grief, cried it out, and was willing to try to move on. Band-Aids, Seth thought. Emotional band-aids. But, maybe that's what life is, just a series of emotional band-aids we put on so we can go to the next thing.


Like most children though, she got into a better mood, quickly, and soon enough she was eager to help him finish dinner. "The nice thing about stir fry," he told her, "Is that it never takes too long." He got out the Wok, Kayla had bought him as a housewarming gift the day they moved into this house and poured some grapeseed oil into it. When it was hot, he added the sliced ginger and let it cook for a bit, then put in the meat.

"I know where the dishes are," Payton said shyly, "Should I set the table while you cook an' Aunt Kayla takes a shower?"

"That sounds like a plan," Seth said, stirring the meat carefully so it would cook evenly on all sides.

When Kayla finished with her shower, she came out wearing a pair of older yoga pants and a very old and worn ROH T-shirt. The table was set and Seth was just finishing up the stir fry and explaining to Payton, "The secret is to make sure the meat is cooked and the flavors all mix, but not to overcook the veggies. They should still have some snap to them."

He knew Kayla was in the doorway and he turned, seeing her smile at the two of them. "Hey, sexy," he called to her. "You're just in time."

"I see that," she commented.

"There's ginger in there," Payton said, pointing to the Wok, obviously not used to such exotic fare. "Ginger smells wonderful! Sweet and spicy at the same time!"

"That's how it tastes too," Kayla remarked.

Just as Seth and Kayla expected, Payton loved stir fry and ate two plates of it, which was good, because Seth realized he forgot to make rice or noodles to put it over. None of them seemed to mind, he had made plenty, so no one left the table hungry. "We had waffles this morning," Kayla reminded him. "And bread sticks at lunch with our salads, we got some grains. Tomorrow I'll make whole wheat pancakes or something."

It wasn't until after they had eaten and done the dishes, that Seth realized Payton hadn't prayed before they ate. He wasn't sure if this was a good sign or not.

End of Part Twelve.


Special Thank To:

Guest: Is this soon enough? Again (I know, broken record time) my writing time is affected by my work time. But, I do my best to write when I can.

Zipper: Good. Thank you for the cheese, er, any chance of the Ipod? Please? And yeah, I agree, Seth does have the makings to be an excellent Dad.

Emilee: Uhm... gotcha? In all seriousness, I do strive for realism. Do I think Myron and Andrea are awesome parents? Maybe for Preston, but I think they're horrible with Payton. However, as with most things, it's not black and white. The Caldwells have their good points and bad points. It's a shame though, that the bad point with them is neglecting their own daughter. And yes, sadly, churches like the Caldwells got taken in by really do exist. Churches that care more about the money they can get from their congregation than the souls. And yeah, something nasty seems to go around their own members until they follow right into it, playing the game the Preacher wants, and ignoring those who can't / won't tithe their 10%. It's very sad, but it's very true.

Holly: You're right, this is a big issue. Parents don't just give over their kids, even when they really should. Would Seth and Kayla adopt Payton if they could? In a heart beat. I'm not sure how this story will go, but I do know that Seth and Kayla will do everything in their power to keep Payton as part of their lives, even after Preston dies.

Guest II: Okay, you caught me in a bad mood and I'm done with it. Get. Off. My. Ass. Seriously, you've twice ridden me about my spelling of Make-A-Wish. I get it, it's a pet peeve of yours, but seriously, you've put a hair across my ass and I'm tired of it. Just because I spelled it without those precious hyphens at first, does not mean I have dishonored the organization. It does not mean I am (as you put it) "Spitting in the face of a charity that supports dying children." It was a mistake. I fixed the summary, I've gone in and fixed as many of the incidents I could find within the story. Was I careless in not looking up the proper spelling? Yes, I will admit to that, but please, don't make this out to be the crime of the century. And while I appreciate that you think I'm "slightly above average," if my inability to be perfect at all times really is such a buzz kill, I strongly suggest you find another story on this site to read. I do the best that I can. I have a beta-reader, but she is human too, and makes mistakes as well. And I try as hard as I can to find those typos and errors, but sometimes they happen anyway. So, just stop it. I've got enough crap going on in my personal life, I don't need someone who can't even give me a name to call them by, ragging on me and accusing me of spitting in the face of a charity just because I forgot some damned hyphens. I know I say I can take critical reviews, but this is just nitpicking.

To all Unregistered guests: Thank you for your comments, your reviews, your support. I really appreciate it. Yes, even Guest II and her nitpicking, I suppose is better than silence.

Author's Notes: This chapter kicked me in the gut. The "magic pill" analogy has special meaning to me. I won't go into it, but just know that I've never lost a child, but I do understand, all too well, what it's like when someone becomes their illness and the medicine they take to combat it. So, maybe I got a chance to trot a few of my own demons out to play.

Again, I know I'm a busted record, but I just don't know how to express how grateful I am for the attention this story receives. It's about the only thing that keeps me going, especially after Wrestlemania. No, I am not upset that Roman didn't win. I was predicting that Roman wouldn't leave Wrestlemania as champion for months now, that the best he could have hoped for was to win for five seconds and then have Seth snatch it from him with a cash in. However, I am a little irked that it went from "OMG! Seth is going to be soooo punished for those pictures," into, "Aw, what the hell, let's give him the title, poor baby!"

No, Wrestlemania itself didn't bother me. What bothered me is the absolute vitriolic hatred for Roman Reigns, not only expressed that night, but the next night too. I don't care if you like him or you don't. I'm not one of the raving fans running around going, 'You MUST respect Roman Reigns!' That's a person choice only you can make. What I dislike is the inability for these people to allow anyone else to like him. If I mention I'm a fan I get told, "So, you're a woman or a gay man, right?" And when I say, "Yeah, I'm a woman," I get, "Oh yeah, you have a crush on him, all you women have a crush on him." In truth, no I don't. Do I think he's good looking? Yeah, I'm not blind. But I'm happily married, and madly in love with my husband. I don't "crush" on other men. And oddly, how come this comes up? When someone says they hate him, I don't automatically say, "Oh, so you're an ugly guy who's insecure, right?" I don't do this, because even if who I'm talking to, is a guy who is insecure about his looks, that doesn't mean his opinions are invalid. Also, do I tell men, "Oh, you like such and such a Diva? Well, that doesn't count, because you're a straight man. Only straight men and gay women like (insert name of their favorite Diva)"? No, because that's just sexist and wrong. But yet, when it comes to Roman Reigns, it's not only fair game to hate him, but it's fair game to dismiss his fans. I hear, "We the fans don't like Roman Reigns" as if a certain group have decided they speak for all fans and if you don't agree with them, well then, you're no longer a "real" fan. Your opinion doesn't matter.

Also, Wrestlemania watchers? Did you see Roman rudely and maliciously shove a fan away? Because I've watched his entrance twice and I haven't caught it, but I've been told by several people that it happened. Not that security held someone back (which I did see) but that Roman Reigns himself, deliberately and viciously, shoved a fan aside.

Excuse me, but what defines a wrestling fan? Are only those who have a penis and specifically, only those who put their penis into vaginas "true" fans? Is the fact that I'm female mean my opinions don't count for shit? Or is it only because I like Roman Reigns? Funny, when I was cheering for Daniel Bryan last year, my lack of penis didn't seem to be a concern, but now it is, now it means that liking someone shows I'm wrong or weak. Have we really gone back to that? That it's perfectly okay to be dismissed for our gender and sexual preferences? Is it 1950 or something? I've been pissed off enough about what Indiana is doing, (sorry if you live there, I know not everyone who does agrees with what is going on) but at least I thought that was an isolated example. Apparently not, when someone's opinions as a wrestling fan can be dismissed because someone is not the "right" gender, or someone doesn't have the "right" sexual orientation.

Again, (because all I do is defend myself) I am not upset Roman didn't win. I really do think they pushed him too hard and too fast. But hey, folks, he didn't win. Let it go, stop with the insults and the anger to the man. Seth Rollins, the man you've been saying has been overlooked, pushed aside, given nothing, etc. won. He's the champion. Forgive me, but that man was coddled to the top. He's been involved in pretty much all Authority story lines. He's been given a bunch of mike time and two stooges to clap for him every time he opened his mouth. Yet, for some reason, all I hear was that Roman was given everything on a silver platter? Huh? Really? I saw them toss Roman out alone, when they all knew he had the least mike experience. They wrote horrible lines for him, and they threw him at the top, when he totally wasn't ready. He should have gotten the IC or US title first.

So, yeah, it's kinda hard to get motivated to write this story. Not because I dislike Seth Rollins. I still like him. I'm just tired of being told that he's the unsung hard working hero of the WWE that finally got a tiny, tiny, scrap of recognition, because he's been so cruelly overlooked. It amazes me that people actually feel this way. That Seth Rollins was treated totally unfairly until now and he only got this because the fans finally convinced the WWE that the poor little man deserved something after having absolutely nothing given to him since Shield broke up. Were we watching the same show? Again, I'm not denying the man his moment, he's earned it, but it was also carefully scripted to make sure he got that chance, he didn't just pull a miracle out of his ass and call it good.

It's sad because no matter how much the fans Roman Reigns, shout that we like him, we never get heard over the deafening roars of people, who I'm convinced half of them hate him just because they want to be part of the "cool" crowd, but if we do dare speak up, we're dismissed for our gender or sexuality. As someone who's dealt with issues over both before, I find this really, really disheartening and rather revolting.

Sorry, I'll get off of the soapbox now. This started as a thank you, and I'd like to finish it that way. Thank you so much all of you who have read, reviewed, followed and favored this story. If it wasn't for the overwhelming response it's getting, I would have probably packed it in after Wrestlemania. Because to be honest, I'm a little disgusted to be a fan right now. So, yeah, you guys are keeping this story going. Thank you for that, from the bottom of my angry and yet very grateful heart.