I don't own any WWE wrestlers or figures utilized in this story. This is all from the mind of a brilliant scientist.

Lance sighed as he picked himself off of the ground after being pancaked by one of the older kids. Shaking his head he pulled off his helmet and looked around the field. Why on earth was he here? He hated football. He hated sweating. He hated his life most days. Grunting he heard a loud whistle in his ear. He turned a menacing scowl at the assailant. It was Grant...the assistant coach. Lance rolled his eyes when the man smiled cockily at him. "Ya know the rules, no helmet means ya run laps." Lance sighed and rubbed his head.

"Whatever," he muttered. The man smiled.

"Twenty laps." Lance's eyes bulged out of his head. He couldn't run twenty laps, it was the dead of Texas heat. He shook his head and dropped his helmet at the man's feet.

"I quit," he said. The man smiled.

"I knew ya would little wussy." Lance shot the man a side ways glance and stormed angrily off the field.

"I hate this place. I hate this stupid team. I hate my father for..." Lance saw a shadow fall on him.

"You hate your father fer what?" Lance took a deep breath and rolled his eyes. Great. Lance turned around to face his father.

"Nothin, sir." Mark crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrow.

"Why aren't ya practicin'?" Lance chewed his lip...why wasn't Mark at the stupid office? "I asked ya a question." Lance sighed. This was not going to end well.

"I quit." Mark laughed softly and dusted the dirt off his shoe. He took off his sunglasses and looked down at the boy. Lance faltered losing any confidence he'd previously had. No matter what anyone said, Mark was scary.

"You what? Lance gulped.

"I uh quit." He puffed his chest out a little. "I hate it." Mark smiled and looked towards the sky. The boy thought he could make his own decisions. Mark turned to Grant, who was now standing there.

"What do you think about this Grant?" The man laughed.

"I think quittin' ain't an option." Mark smiled and nodded.

"Quittin' ain't an option, boy." Lance shook his head and felt the tears rise to his eyes. Why was his life this way? Lance snorted trying to stop the tears. Mark shook his head. "Get outta my sight." Lance did exactly what he felt like doing so many times before...he ran. He ran from his problems and away from his father. Why? Why just couldn't he be happy...just once. Just one time.

Lance looked down at his cell phone distantly as he watched Mark whoop and yell for Chasey as she sliced through opponents on the soccer field. He laughed bitterly, all Mark did when he watched Lance play football was either scream that he needed to get up and suck it up or sit and talk to his friends. Lance sighed, he wasn't even sure if he could call what he did on the field as playing, it was more like getting hit hard and falling even harder. He sighed and set his head in his hands. Why couldn't he fit in? The more he watched Mark cheer and scream that number seven was his child, the more like an outsider he felt. He didn't fit in...he never would.

Lance felt his phone buzz. He looked down and smiled. It was Cal, his best friend. Sliding the phone open Lance smiled for the first time that day. "Hey, what's going on?" Lance rested his chin on his fist.

"The usual Saturday event, watching my dad yell and scream for my sister." Cal nodded. He knew pretty much all of the sad details about Lance's life, and it annoyed him to no end. The two had met two years ago at art camp and had been practically inseparable ever since. They were practically the same person, well minus the fact that Cal was Samoan Indian. But color or heritage didn't matter to those two, their bond extended beyond the skin, it went straight to the their love of art.

"Can you come over tonight?" Lance shrugged.

"I don't know, I got in trouble earlier for tryin' to quit football." Cal laughed, it was about time. Lance felt someone sit next to him. He smiled when he saw who it was...Ms. Sara. The woman pulled Lance's head close to her lips as she spoke into them.

"Your dad is going out of town tonight." She smiled. "You're staying with us." Lance turned to her and smiled.

"Hey Cal, you want to stay over tomorrow night?" Sara smiled at Lance and the boy returned it, maybe he did fit somewhere.

Lance sat at the counter pushing his spaghetti around on the plate. He just couldn't focus. Mark's words kept swirling around in his head. "Maybe when I come back, you'll be a man," he'd said. Lance grunted as he stabbed a meatball. Why had he said that? Lance was so confused. He was trying so hard to be a man...he really was. He worked on the farm and he watched his sisters protecting them, what else was there? Lance felt a tear. He silently cursed himself. That was why he wasn't a man. He couldn't even stop crying.

He sighed, sometimes he just couldn't understand his life. First he hadn't been enough for his parents and now he wasn't enough for Mark. Why had he even bothered to try? Why? His thoughts were broken into by someone sitting at the table in front of him. He shook his head, of course it was her.

"What's wrong Scooter?" Lance shrugged and looked down at his plate, he didn't want her to see him crying. Sara sighed. She already knew what was bothering him before she asked. That boy had a hard row to hoe. At every turn Mark was trying to break him down, and as much as she hated it there was nothing she could do about it. Lance wasn't her son. He wasn't. "Lance?" she prodded. The boy sighed and banged his fist on the table.

"I just want him to like me." Sara's heart broke, she could tell from his voice that he was crying.

"Lance," she said soothingly. The boy shook his head.

"No! Just leave me alone!" Pushing himself away from the table the boy took off out the back door. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he was tired of people pitying him. He just wanted to be a man. No more tears, no more emotions. No nothin'. Lance just ran and ran. All he wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. His vision was blurring as the tears stained his cheeks. Why? Lance finally stopped running as he slid down the trunk of a tree. What was the point?

An hour later, Lance heard the soft footsteps coming behind him. He smiled bitterly. She chased him when his own father wouldn't have. He laughed, some father he had. Shaking his head, he knew the real problem. Some son he was...Mark was ashamed of him. Choking on a sob, he knew he should be. Lance was an embarrassment, to himself and the Calaway name. The woman sat down next to him. For a while, she didn't say anything. Lance knew what she was doing, she was trying to bait him in with his emotions. He wasn't going to have any of that. He was going to be strong. He was. He hoped he was. Finally she spoke.

"Lance?" The boy shook his head.

"Leave me alone." Sara shook her head, she could hear it in his voice..the boy was broken.

"Lance," she prodded again. "Lance talk to me." Again he shook his head.

"Leave me alone...please," he begged. Sara shook her head. Lance hadn't even gotten the words out before he broke down crying. She quietly wrapped the boy in her embrace. "I'm too weak," he said. Sara shook her head.

"Ssh," she cooed. Lance broke into a sob.

"I embarrass him." Sara sighed.

"Lance..." the boy just shook his head.

"He doesn't want me, he never did." Sara sighed shaking her head, she and Mark were going to talk. "He told Michelle that if he'd saved his sperm he could have gotten a better one." Sara became enraged. Who would say that? Sighing she continued to soothe the now sobbing boy. If she had her way, Mark would never see his son again. She grunted, and she just might make that happen.

Sorry for the delay guys! I hope you enjoyed!