A/N: Ok guys, here's Paul in all his sexy glory spiraling down. Please don't hate me for part of this chapter. If you remember the first chapter, you know that we have some bad before the good. Last chapter ended with Bella showing up to bail him out of jail. Now we get to see how he ended up there.

Beta: ChrissiHR

Fic recs:

Wake the Earth by Meliz875: She'll rip your heart out, then she'll stomp all over it, and if that's not bad enough, somewhere around chapter 3, with the help of a pair of six inch stilettos, she'll go for the kill, piercing straight through. But after that, something beautiful happens, healing and later, romance. Fair warning, the beginning of this story is tragic, but stick around because what comes after is wonderful.

The Clearwater Solution by Fran Osuch: This is a Bella/Seth pairing. It's a long O/S, but hopefully there will be more to read in the future. But even if there's not, it is AMAZING as is. I LOVED this and I don't read a lot of o/s, but this is pretty much a full story in a single chapter. VERY well written. Don't think it can be found on FF, but if you are a Tricky Raven member, it can be found there, along with a bunch of other great fics. If you are not a TR member and have no interest in becoming one, check out her other story, here on FF- Planes and Trucks and Brand New Boys – Sweet , funny and sexy. Loved this too!

Chapter Eight

Things went much the same over the weeks following. Days were spent fulfilling duties to his tribe, and his nights were spent trying to forget.

On the outside, it seemed nothing had changed. He was still the same uncensored, speak-your-mind Paul he'd always been. With the same don't-give-a-shit if it offends you attitude. The very same Paul that loved in equal measure a good fight or a good fuck, whichever was available. However, for all the similarities, there was one key difference.

One it seemed everyone had forgotten.

The inside.

It was the inside that was damaged, where everything had changed. The weight bearing down on his shoulders so heavy at times, it was suffocating.

Sometimes it hurt just to breathe, the torment forcing him to seek solace by other means.

Two weeks of fucking and binge drinking with little relief lead him to a party located in a shady part of Port Angeles, looking for something to take his mind off things - a place where drugs and booze flowed freely and nobody cared if he made it home tonight. Nobody there would try to hold his hand or tell him what he was doing was wrong, and nobody would look at him with poorly disguised disappointment shining in their eyes.

Whether it was disappointment in him or just in the situation, he wasn't sure.

He was sick to death of the pitying looks and ever-present reminders of everything he'd lost and all the little things missing from his life, like the way the room always went quiet when he first entered. It was as if they weren't quite sure how to act around him now. Then, there was the simple fact nobody ever mentioned what happened.

Not a fucking word.

As if saying it out loud would cause the temperamental wolf to finally blow a fuse.

As far as Billy and Jacob were concerned, they reminded him of the family he'd gained, no matter how short-lived, while at the same time reminding him of something he'd never had – a father - at least not one worth remembering.

A father he didn't want to remember.

Unless they had to, the imprinted wolves didn't come around much, choosing instead to stay home and fuck their dicks raw, wanting to make sure the same thing didn't happen to them. All except for Quil that is, and he was probably out with little Claire somewhere playing hopscotch.

If that wasn't bad enough, there was one more thing that stood out from all the rest. Saturdays, normally spent in front of the tv with Jared and a twelve-pack were now a thing of the past.

Reminders – it seemed they were everywhere he looked. They were there in the silence, in the presence, and most of all – in the absence.

That was fine with him, though, since the only person's company he thought he could stomach had left his home two weeks ago, like a thief in the night. She didn't need meaningless reassurances and she never once looked at him the way they did, even though she had been there - had seen it all unfold.

Now that he thought about it, she rarely ever visited La Push anymore - not even Jacob. He wondered briefly if Abby had finally cracked the whip, sending Bella away with her tail tucked between her legs, but then he thought better of it. That wasn't very likely to happen. Jacob would more likely send his imprint packing than Bella. She had their Alpha wrapped up so tight around her finger, the strings were starting to snap.

As he brought his car to a stop in the gravel drive, his attention changed course, shifting to the bodies scrambling in and out of the house in a drug-induced haze. For a second, he wondered if they were there for the same reasons as his own.

Paul flicked his half-smoked cigarette out through the cracked window before rolling it up, preventing the rain from doing anymore damage to the already worn out bench seat.

Thunderous music pierced his ears as he exited his vehicle, letting him know the party was in full swing. As he reached the door, he lifted one mammoth hand to brush away the rain-soaked hair from his forehead before entering and pushing his way through the crowd.

Other than a blinking strobe light, the room was dark. The air smelled of stale beer and cigarettes, sex and vomit. Bodies grinded together and he watched as a man fingered a girl in the corner. On the stained carpet, a girl kneeled in front of a ragged sofa, sucking off some guy she probably didn't even know.

As he drifted through the room, party goers stepped aside and stared. Something about the dangerous edge surrounding him alerted their sixth sense, a warning that something wasn't quite right. With his hair combed back like a bad boy from the fifties and what appeared to be a permanent scowl on his devilishly handsome face - a silent threat to others to keep their distance - let Paul come to you.

He walked with purpose, without a care, like he owned the place,. Wolf-like eyes swept through the room, taking in several familiar faces - people he'd run into a few times over the past couple weeks.

Well-worn, tattered jeans, frayed around the bottom hem and knees, and black cotton stretched across supernatural strength and muscle. He was the envy of millions of men who spent their days pumping iron and shooting steroids, hoping to attain a goal that was too far out of reach.

He looked like the kind of man that fathers warned their daughters about. 'A boy like that is only after one thing' and 'He's nothing but trouble.' However, caution and Daddy's wise words only roused their curiosity and thirst for him. They wouldn't dream of taking him home; they just wanted a roll in the sheets or a quick fuck in the back seat.

In truth, nobody knew anything about him other than what their overactive imaginations had made up. That was irrelevant, though, because they had already passed misguided judgment and formed opinions based on deceitful outward appearances and half-truths. Not one single person took the time to ask the important questions, so Paul just let them all think what they wanted to think.

That suited Paul just fine. He wasn't looking for a girlfriend, just a little relief. Rich testosterone levels nourished his blood and overfed an already gluttonous sexual appetite.

When he reached the dingy, rundown kitchen, he reached for the first bottle he came to, pouring a shot and shooting it back quickly. As the alcohol set fire to his throat, he welcomed the burn - anything to make him feel something other than the constant emptiness in the pit of his stomach – like his insides had been violently ripped away and all that was left behind was nothing more than an empty carcass.

The booze served as a temporary filler, filling the space until his too high metabolism grabbed hold of it and rid the poison from his body – leaving him with no other choice but to try harder the next day.

A lesson he'd already learned. One that didn't bear repeating.

After many failures, Paul had moved on to something stronger – more potent.

When the crippling effects of loneliness and feelings of worthlessness finally became too much, Paul turned to drugs. On those nights when sleep was out of reach and he was left tossing and turning alone in his bed with nothing but a never ending replay of painful memories he would rather forget. Shockingly, it had very little to do with Rachel.

No, for Paul, it was a lifetime of not being good enough to make anybody want to stick around.

Coke was his favorite on those nights. It gave him a false sense of confidence, making him feel important instead of expendable - like he mattered. Another perk, his body seemed to burn it off at a much slower rate.

Before he could lose sight of his mission - an attempt to forget everything - he downed a bottle of Jack and took a couple hits, now ready for the third thing he came for.

Pussy.

Judging by the look the little blonde across the room was giving him, he was about to bag that shit up.

He walked purposely towards her, stopping too close to be polite.

"Wanna get outta here?"

Thankfully, the girl agreed quickly. Something about his confident movements and the self-assured look on his face guaranteed she wouldn't regret it.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Paul sat on the small cot and leaned back against the cool concrete wall, staring through the gaps of the steel bars in front of him. Questioning his own stupid actions, he wondered what the fuck he had been thinking. He was no better than Jared - fucking some poor, clueless bastard's girlfriend.

That wasn't exactly true. He didn't know the girl had a boyfriend when he took her out behind the storage shed, but he certainly did now. The unlucky son of a bitch walked right up on them. Admittedly, Paul should have heard him coming, but in his defense, he had been right on the brink of blowing his load.

The man undoubtedly had every right to be upset, but provoking a man high on testosterone and cocaine wasn't the smartest move.

Of all the people that could have shown up, it just had to be Chief Swan. At that moment, he cursed the friendship between him and Billy. He would have happily served any sentence given by the judge in Port Angeles - just so he wouldn't have to face the Chief.

The strangest part of it all was the person that came to mind as he sat in the backseat of Charlie's cruiser. His daughter. What would she think of him now?

Then, there she was, standing outside his cell, dressed in flannel pajamas and a raincoat, looking as if she were about to cry. It was stupid to have thought Charlie wouldn't mention it - that by some small miracle the subject would never come up.

"My dad is trying to pull some strings. Hopefully we can get you out of here tonight."

"You didn't have to do that, Bella." he said, his words not quite as slurred as they were earlier tonight.

"I know, but..." She took a deep breath, running her palms nervously over her pants. "Are you okay?"

Paul didn't get a chance to respond. Charlie appeared, keys in hand, giving him a pointed look as he slid the key into the lock.

"Just so you know, this has nothing to do with me." His eyes darted to the left, landing on Bella. "If it were up to me, you'd be sitting here for a while."

Paul said nothing, thankful to be going home and not wanting to push his luck.

The heavy rainfall made the drive back to his place a slow one. Deep puddles formed, flooding the roads, the spinning tires spraying water over the back windows as Paul looked out. From the corner of his eye, he saw every time Bella not-so-subtly looked back, checking on him.

When they pulled into his driveway, he stepped out of the car, and to his surprise, Bella did too, calling out to her father that she was staying.

"Bella, I really don't need..." to be babysat was left hanging as she whipped around, stopping him with just one look and catching him completely off guard at the same time. When his mouth snapped shut, he was pretty sure he saw the Chief's mustache twitch, but he was too distracted by the ballsy little girl standing in front of him.

Cocking his head to the right, he watched and waited, giving her his full attention. Intense eyes boldly looked her up and down as if sizing up his competition.

The rain continued falling, cold and slippery, clinging to the long, dark lashes framing her narrowed eyes.

"I'm staying." Her tone left no room for arguments. She stood up straight, lifting a challenging brow - one that dared him to tell her to leave.

He didn't.

Instead, a long pause where he did nothing but stare at her ensued before he turned and walked inside, leaving the door standing open. Kicking off his shoes and not bothering to change clothes, he stretched out on the couch and waited for her.

When she reached the door, she hesitated, leading him to believe she might be rethinking her decision to stay. For some reason, that thought bothered him.

For some reason, unknown to him, he wanted her to stay.

When she finally entered, she shrugged out of her jacket and without thinking, walked over and plopped down on the floor in front of him. Silence followed and just when he started to drift off, he felt her shift as she turned to face him.

Bella slowly reached out to him, his own curious eyes following her hand until soft, cool fingers were brushing the still-damp hairs from his forehead. He didn't think he'd ever been touched so tenderly. Her gentle, soothing touch left him feeling torn between wanting to pull away and wanting to push closer.

"You know everybody makes mistakes," her words were spoken so quietly that without wolf hearing, he may not have heard, "and those mistakes, as bad as they may be, shouldn't erase all the good things they've done." She paused, choosing her next words carefully while he waited, trying to process the meaning behind what she'd just said.

"You have every right to be angry and every right to never speak to...them again, but you have to believe they didn't set out to intentionally hurt you. And, yes, I know in the grand scheme of things it doesn't really matter what their intentions were, especially since the outcome was the same, but..."

As she sat there seemingly debating what to say next, Paul surprised himself when his own hand reached out, stroking the light blush of her cheek before opening his mouth to speak.

"Look at you." A small half smile lifted the corner of his lips as his deep, masculine voice spoke. "Being all wise."

Suddenly, she pulled away, pushing herself up on her feet. "I'm sorry. You know what, just ignore me. I-I don't know what I'm taking about half the time anyway."

With that, she turned toward the spare room she'd slept in the last time she was there. Without a word, he let her go, but it was a long time before he was able to fall asleep, thinking long into the night about what she'd said.

About Jared. He had a feeling her words were more about him than anyone.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Would love to know what you think!