I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist.
A/N: 8 reviews in one night? You guy's rock! Here's a super long chapter!
Three months later
Lance yawned as he rolled out of bed. He ran his hands through his now shorty spiky hair. He put on his dirty tennis shoes and headed downstairs. He absolutely hated this place. He had more chores than he could handle. He had morning chores, afternoon chores, and evening chores. He shook his head. Lance winced as the cold air came into contact with his skin. He shivered, he was so cold. Slowly he began to do his chores. First he had to clean the horse stalls, then he had to open the gates so the animals could roam, then finally he had to collect the eggs from the chickens. It usually took him forty-five minutes to an hour to complete all of them. He sighed, it hurt his hands every time. However on the bright side it didn't hurt to play the guitar any more. Lance began to whistle, maybe it would pass the time quicker.
Mark sighed as he drank his morning glass of coffee. He saw Lance walking back to the house with the basket full of eggs. Mark had no idea what was going on in that boy's head. Why would you wear shorts on a farm? Mark shook his head, it seemed that no matter how many times he told the boy how things should be done, the kid never seemed to listen. Mark shook his head, all he did was lay in the grass and sketch the clouds or sit in his room and strum on that stupid guitar. The thing was old and raggedy and the music he played made his ears bleed. He sighed. Why couldn't he have a son who liked football and motorcycles? No, he got one of those freaks who wear girl jeans. He shook his head, he was still beyond perplexed...where had this kid come from? He looked like him but he sure didn't act like him. Not one bit. This boy was someone all his own. The back door opened. Lance set the eggs down on the counter.
"I finished em." Mark raised his eyebrow.
"All of them?" Lance nodded.
"Yes sir." Mark turned back towards his coffee.
"We'll eat some breakfast and then go and put some clothes in a bag. I've got some meetings I need to go to." Lance nodded. He was grateful to get off of this place. No chores, he smiled. Yay. He was happy, maybe he and Mark would even begin to get along. Lance took a deep breath as he got the bowl out. He sure hoped so.
The driver honked the horn, Mark grunted, what was taking the kid so long? He'd sent him up there twenty minutes ago to get his bag. He sighed. Hastily Mark walked up the stairway and into the large room. He found Lance trying to put his guitar into the small duffel. Mark rolled his eyes. "Move," Mark said walking towards the boy's bed. Lance stopped and backed away from his suitcase. Mark sighed as he saw the contents in the bag. Two shorts, two shirts, no underwear and two sketchbooks. Mark threw the two books out and set the guitar on the bed. Lance watched anxiously as Mark added another shirt, some jeans, and underwear into the bag. Then he zipped it. Mark turned to Lance. "Let's go." Lance looked between Mark and the bag. Mark rolled his eyes. "No." Lance felt the tears rise into his eyes. Mark grunted. "Knock that crap off. No crying." Lance nodded and wiped his tears. Mark sighed, the kid looked so pitiful. "One sketchpad." Lance ran to the bed and grabbed the pad and clutched it to his chest like it was a precious jewel. Lance stopped and ran his hand over the guitar, he sighed he'd never been without his guitar. Never. "Let's go." Lance shuffled after Mark hastily still staring longingly at his guitar. As much as he wasn't supposed to he felt tears fall from his eyes. He wanted his guitar.
Lance sat quietly on a crate as he watched Mark talk to his friends. Lance sighed quietly as he watched all the people walk around happily enjoying each other. This place just had some sort of magic to it. He shook his head, it wasn't fair that he was the only one who didn't get to experience it for himself. All day long he had been forced to to go from meeting to meeting with Mark. He closed his eyes tight, he felt like he hadn't spoken in hours. Lance sighed, he was starting to wish he was back at home. At least then he wouldn't be treated like a puppet.
Lance wished things were different. He knew Mark didn't like him very much. Honestly, he didn't like Mark very much either. They were just too different. He twiddled his thumbs. Maybe if he was a good boy Ms. Sara would come by and take him out again. He smiled, he liked it when she did that. Too bad it had only happened twice before and sadly he knew it probably wouldn't happen again. The last time, Mark and Sara had a big fight. Apparently, taking him to the park to hear jazz bands play wasn't very masculine. That fight had been bad. They'd screamed, threw things, and then it had culminated with Mark telling Sara to stay out of his life. Lance sighed, he figured that she would never come back for him. He shrugged, why should she? He wasn't her kid.
Lance began to hum a song to himself, he often found that to soothe his nerves. The last few months had been so difficult. He thought his mama and daddy were mean, Mark took it to a whole new level. Lance had never worked so hard in his life. He sighed, he wished that Mark wasn't so mean to him. He seemed to be nice to everyone else. He adored the girls. He hugged them and kissed them, but he just yelled at Lance. Lance sighed, they were just too different.
The little boy rubbed his head. He shouldn't complain. He was happy to be away from the farm and his chores, but he was still upset about Mark making him leave his guitar and his picture sketchbook. What would he do now? He accidentally kicked the crate in frustration alerting the adults attention to him. Oops.
"Hey Mark, who is this?" Mark glanced down at Lance with a harsh look and then back up at the man.
"This is my son Lance, Lance say hello to Mr. Steve." Mark watched Lance stand up slowly.
"Nice to meet you Mr. Steve." The tall bald man smiled.
"Well Mark, you've got him trained well don't ya?" Mark smiled.
"Well you know." Lance felt Mark grab his hand. Great, he was going to yet another boring meeting. Steve the look on Lance's face, he sighed. Poor kid looked bored out of his wits.
"Hey Mark," he said glancing between the man and Lance, "why don't you let me take the kid and show him around while you go to your meetings." Mark shook his head.
"Naw, I'll keep em with me." Steve shook his head.
"Mark look at him, the kid's bored to death. Let me take him and I'll bring him back later." Mark sighed and looked down at his son.
"You want to go with me or with Mr. Steve?" Lance gulped. Mark sighed. "Alright, fine. Have fun and be a good boy." Mark let go of Lance's hand and nudged him towards Steve. Lance grabbed the man's hand. They watched Mark walk off then Steve turned to the little boy and immediately dropped his hand. Lance smiled, he hadn't had freedom like this in a long time. Maybe this could turn out well for him.
"So fella, what do you like to do?" Lance shrugged.
"Play my guitar and draw." Steve laughed. He knew that stuff drove Mark nuts.
"You any good at the guitar?" Lance shrugged.
"I think so. Everyone says I am." Steve smiled.
"Well, I'm going to be staying at the same motel as you and your dad, do you think you could play for me?" Lance shrugged shyly and then remembered earlier that morning.
"No sir, I can't." Steve sighed.
"Why not?"
"He wouldn't let me bring it. Said it was too much trouble." Steve sighed, Mark was sure a piece of work.
"Well I have mine. Can you show me some songs?" Lance nodded happily. Yeah!
Mark walked back around from the meeting with Vince and heard a familiar sound of singing and strumming. He grunted. He thought for just once he would get two days without hearing that incessant racket. He rubbed his temples as he came up to a crowd. He shook his head. These people better not be encouraging this crap. He walked and saw his son, standing on a crate singing with his eyes closed. Mark watched the boy strum and sway, he smiled, the kid seemed natural. Like he was born with that guitar in his hand. Mark shook his head, even if he did hate the music, he had to admit the kid was good.
"He's really good isn't he?"
"Yeah, he is," he said glancing at the woman next to him. Mark did a double take. The woman was beyond captivating. She had long blonde hair and a smile to die for. His breath was taken away.
"I just love the sound of a beautiful guitar playing. It brings me to such a beautiful place." Mark smiled.
"Yeah, me too." The woman smiled at him.
"Mark right?"
"Yeah," the man said clearly captivated. "And you are?" The woman opened her mouth to speak but Steve's voice drowned her out.
"Well lady's and germs, I do think that Young Mr. Calaway here has outplayed me." The crowd laughed. "Let's give him a hand." Mark smiled with pride as he saw his son smile with pleasure at the applause he was given. Lance took the strap off and handed the guitar back to Steve. The older man shook his head. "No, you've earned it buddy. You play better than me any day of the week." Lance shook his head.
"Sir, won't like it." Steve's eyes narrowed.
"You call your dad, 'sir'?" Lance shrugged. Steve leaned close to Lance's ear.
"You just tell 'sir' that good ole Uncle Steve says yes, ok?" Lance looked unsure. Steve smiled. "I demand you take it and I won't take no for an answer." Lance smiled and nodded.
"Thank you sir!" The little boy jumped off the crate and ran towards Mark who was now alone. He wanted to hug him with excitement but he thought better of it. He stopped short as he saw Mark raise his eyebrow at him. "Um, Mr. Steve gave me this, he said I was better than him." Mark grunted, he hoped he hadn't begged for it.
"Oh really?" Lance sighed feeling a little down. This wasn't going how he'd planned.
"Yes sir." Lance looked up at his father. "Do you think I did good?" Mark shrugged still looking at where the blonde used to be.
"I only heard a little bit of it." Lance sighed.
"Oh." Mark rolled his eyes.
"Come on, I've gotta get ready for the show." Lance gulped.
"May I go to the big locker room, Randy and Mr. Steve said I could?" Mark chewed his lip, that would give him time to find that blonde.
"Did they really say that?" Lance nodded.
"Yes sir." Mark nodded.
"You know where it is?" Lance nodded again hoping he'd say yes.
"Alright, go on. Have someone bring you to me when it's over." Lance nodded. Mark gave him a nod of approval and Lance quickly began walking away. "And stay in the locker room," he added. Lance nodded as he began to walk away faster. He didn't want Mark to see him cry. Lance shook his head, he just wasn't good enough.
Mark shook his head at Lance's retreating form. One day the kid would be tough like him. One day. He smiled, now to find that blond beauty.
Lance was sitting in a corner waiting for the tears in his eyes to stop flowing. He didn't want anyone to see him crying. He was a man, not some little girl. At least that's what Mark always had said to him. He grunted, but he just couldn't help it. Mark was his daddy and he hated him. He just knew after that show, Mark would understand him. Understand his music and then they'd be friends. Lance sighed, but he'd failed. Like always. He wiped his nose. That's how he'd gotten those scars. Daddy had told him to pick up all the needles off of the floor, but he'd missed some. He shuddered. He hadn't known that they were there, but it still stop him from taking the TV antenna to his back.
"Honey, are you ok?" Lance looked up and quickly wiped his nose.
"Uh huh, I was just leaving." The woman grabbed his arm.
"Whoa, buddy not so fast. What's wrong?" Lance just shook his head. Why should he tell her his business? The lady picked him up and set him on the crate. "You're the little boy from the guitar with Steve right?" Lance nodded and wiped his eyes.
"Yes ma'am." The woman smiled.
"Aren't you a sweetie pie?" Lance smiled. The woman's heart tore for him. Why was he so closed off and reserved? "Now, tell me what's wrong?"
"Nothing." The woman smiled.
"You got a lot a tears there for nothing." Lance laughed. The woman smiled, they were getting somewhere now.
Mark sighed he figured he'd take Lance for an ice cream. After all he felt bad for the little guy. Mark shook his head, he'd let the gorgeous woman invade his thoughts. He could have at least told the kid he was good. He walked into the locker room and looked around. Lance wasn't anywhere to be found. He sighed. "Randy, you seen muh boy?" Randy shook his head.
"Naw, he said he was gonna find you earlier." Mark rolled his eyes.
"And you let him?"
"John said he was takin' em." Mark shook his head, John was sitting right next to Randy. Note to self, those two are idiots. He turned and left. He whistled as he walked down the hallway. Where was the little guy? Mark sighed when he saw Steve's guitar leaning against the hallway wall. Mark shook his head and picked it up. The kid didn't even respect gifts. Mark grunted he was getting angrier by the minute. Mark heard a familiar voice.
"I don't know, I just hate cleaning the stalls, it makes my hands hurt." The woman laughed. Mark shook his head, even her laugh was beautiful. He turned the corner.
"Jeremy Lance." Lance shot off of the crate and wiped his face.
"Yes sir?"
"I told you to stay in the locker room." Lance gulped. "And you left Steve's guitar in the hallway?" Lance looked down. "Is that how I expect you're going to treat the gifts that I give you?" Lance shook his head.
"No sir." Mark rolled his eyes as he saw tears well into Lance's. He handed the guitar to Lance. The woman stood up.
"Don't be too hard on him." Mark sighed. She really was beautiful.
"And you are?" The woman smiled.
"Michelle, I'm a new fairly new around here." Mark nodded.
"Well Ms. Michelle, my son and I are headed off. You have a good night." Michelle nodded.
"Lance, you've got my number, ok?" The little boy nodded. Michelle walked off leaving Mark and Lance. Lance stole a glance up at Mark who was looking down at him scowling. Mark grunted.
"You're going to give that guitar back to Steve." Lance looked down quickly. He'd only left it there for a few minutes. Mark pushed the boy ahead of him. "Why did you lie to Randy?" Lance sighed.
"I didn't. I told the truth. I just couldn't find you." He began to cry. Mark thumped him against his skull with his large finger.
"Don't you dare start that." Lance wiped his eyes as they came up to Steve. Mark nudged the boy forward. "Go on." Lance sniffed the tears back into his eyes.
"I um didn't take care of the gift you gave me, so here it is," he said practically throwing the guitar at the bald man in front of him. Steve looked at the guitar in his hand and then down at the devastated little boy and then back again.
"What did you do with it?" Lance stared at his shoes. He opened his mouth to speak but Mark did before he could.
"You look him in the eye when you talk to him." Lance gulped trying to hold his composure.
"I left it in the hallway." Steve nodded.
"You gonna do that again?" Lance shook his head.
"No sir, never." Steve nodded. He wanted to give the guitar back to the kid, but the scowl on Mark's face said that he would have none of that. He shook his head.
"Well I'll just keep it for you for the next time, ok?" Lance nodded.
"Yes sir." Steve smiled. He looked up at Mark and whispered.
"You're being too hard on him." Mark rolled his eyes.
"He's weak." Steve sighed.
"He's a baby." Mark grunted and grabbed Lance's sweaty hand.
"Don't tell me how to raise my son. I'm going to make a man out of him, even if it kills me." Steve shook his head as he watched the pair walk off. Yeah, he'd make a man out of him alright, at the expense of their relationship. Steve sighed, he just hoped that Mark would come to his senses before it was too late. He shook his head. At the rate Mark was going, that was going to happen sooner rather than later.