The grief was burning through his veins. Like a round of chemo, it killed everything in its path, consuming his entire being, leaving him the small bed. Sobs overtook his body once more, shaking his massive form. His tears fell freely, burning hot paths feeling so sick, so exhausted, and so utterly weak. He clutched at his heart, clawing at the skin above his heart. Angry pink lines with streaks of read appeared beneath his fingertips and he dug in harder, desperately wanting to rip the infernal organ free, to rid himself of the pain, to join her again.
His stomach seized again, the taste of acid forcing its way up his throat. Too weak to move, he leaned over the bed emptying the contents of his stomach onto the wooden floor below. He wiped the bile from his cracked lips, resuming his prior position on down his russet cheeks and he wailed. Loudly, heart-wrenchingly, he wailed, unable to hold back the despair he felt at the loss of his mate.
The steel cables that once wrapped around his heart binding him to her had been so severely severed he could 'feel' the rough edges cutting deep into the infernal thing. He was numb, but he could feel her loss so strongly, so achingly. He had never been so deeply connected to someone, so in tune to another being. Staying away from that kind of attachment was a something he had perfected in his 28 years, he all but ran from any kind of commitment, until she had wormed her way into his life, into his heart, and into his very soul.
There connection was unbelievably, unfailingly strong, more so than Emily and Sam's, it scared him at first, he was so certain she would be the death of him. Oh how wrong you were, so very fucking wrong. He shook his head violently, he needed out, out of this small stuffy room, out of this fucked up nightmare that never ended. Just out. He struggled to sit up; using every ounce of strength he possessed to do so. Slowly he swung his legs over the side of the bed not containing his vomit, and stood on shaky legs. He dragged his hand through his matted hair, suddenly aware of the fact that he hadn't bothered to wash since she… left. He walked slowly, using furniture to help him along, and made his way to the bathroom. He stripped out of his slacks, tossing them into the trash, needing them gone. He turned the shower dial all the way to hot and stepped in under the spray, closing the curtain behind him. Memories hit him with force. "We can't do this, not here, they will hear us" she had said, blushing fiercely. "They know us babe, and I need you. Just trust me" She had caved, so easily and they had made love, right there in Sam and Emily's guest bathroom, in the shower, on the counter, and on the bath rug. He closed his eyes tightly, willing the memories to dissipate. But they kept on coming, like a movie flashing before him. He couldn't escape, couldn't get away, he was trapped wandering down memory lane, trapped in this never ending pain.
He woke up to the sound of the soft knock at the door. Sam. He smelled him now, however faintly. "I'm coming in" was all he heard, he didn't bother trying to argue. He just didn't have it in him.
Sam sat on the counter, wringing his hands together. Paul could smell the sadness, the anxiety, radiating off of his alpha and it hit him hard just how much everyone was struggling with this. It was almost comforting… Almost.
"I'm fine Sam. Just fell asleep is all, I'll be out in a minute." Yet he made no effort, just remained curled up on the floor of the shower.
"You've been in here for three and a half hours Paul, crying and screaming." He pulled back the curtain, knelt down at the tubs edge and turned off the water. "You're far from fine" Paul looked everywhere but at Sam, unwilling to see the pity that was undoubtedly still there. "Come on. Em's fixed beef stew. The others are gone, it's just us." His alpha stuck his hand out and Paul grasped it, thankful for the help, his legs where still shaky and he felt so ridiculously weak he doubted he would have gotten out on his own, not any time soon anyway. Sam threw a towel at him, along with some cut-offs told him he'd be right outside the door and left, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.
He dried off slowly, and dressed even slower, his body unwilling to move at anything faster than a snail's pace. He opened the door, trekked slowly over to where Sam was waiting and broke down again. Sam had cleaned up the mess he had made on the floor. "Don't worry about it brother, let's go down, try to get something else in that stomach of yours." Paul stood unmoving, caught in a moment of embarrassment, and extreme vulnerability. Sam seemed to understand and gave Paul a moment to compose himself. Paul shook his head after many moments and looked to Sam; the older man nodded a small smile gracing his face. "Let us go see Emily." Paul's stomach chose that moment to make itself known growling loudly and Sam laughed openly. The first laugh that had been heard in the days since tragedy befell them.
They made their way down to the kitchen, Paul leaning against Sam for support. Emily smiled softly at them when they entered, ushering Paul towards the table. She set a large bowl of steaming hot stew in front of him. "Eat up honey, there is plenty." She sniffled quietly and excused herself. Paul sat there feeling uncomfortable, yet thankful that he only had to endure Sam and Emily. He was certain he couldn't handle all of their sad faces, all at once, his own feelings of grief so overwhelming in and of themselves.
He ate slowly, the hot liquid easing the scratchiness of his dry throat. He briefly wondered if he would be able to keep this down, and prayed to Taha Aki that he would. He wouldn't last much longer if he kept throwing up everything he ate, and the thought struck him that maybe that wouldn't be so bad after all.
"Don't do that, don't give up. You're stronger than that." He choked on his food spitting and sputtering bits of pieces of vegetables and beef all over the table. He turned wildly to look at Sam, who had a look of concern etched onto his face.
"Did you hear that?" Paul whispered to his superior
Sam shook his head slowly. "No…"
Paul's heart clenched painfully. Realistically he knew there was just absolutely no way… yet he had hoped. He slammed his fist down onto the tabletop, splintering the wood, sloshing the stew all over. Sam jumped back, unconsciously angling himself between the volatile wolf and where his mate had retreated to.
"GOD DAMNIT" Paul roared standing up forcefully, knocking the chair down in the process. He turned to Sam. "I. Heard. Her. "He ground out through clenched teeth, his breaths ragged, his face twisted, contorted in pain.
Sam stood shocked, unable to find his voice. Paul had taken him by surprise with his words, and that was a hard feat. Sam always knew what to say, and when to say it. Nothing ever took him by surprise, and certainly never left him speechless. He stuttered helplessly "P, P, Paul I don't think…" Paul cut him off with a feral snarl " . ." His voice faltered then "But I heard her, clear as day." He looked at Sam, a look of desperation and pleading.
"I heard her too"
The wolves spun around, caught off guard by the new voice. Paul lunged forward, pushing Sam out of his way and tackled baby alpha through the screen door into Sam and Emily's front yard. It was a blur of limbs, as both fought for control of the situation. Paul landed the first punch his fist connecting with Jacob's nose with a sickening crunch, a burst of blood. Paul went to hit him again when Sam caught his arm "Paul, enough" They were both surprised when Paul wrenched his arm free and caught Jacob again, this time in the ribs. He stood then, shoving Jake hard into the dirt. He faced Sam then his breath coming out in gasps. His hands shook and his head swam, and he was suddenly aware of what had just happened. He had disobeyed an Alpha order, something none of them had ever been able to do.
He looked between Sam and Jacob, his stomach churned. He doubled over and retched once again. He heaved and spit, his throat burning once more. "What the fuck is going on?"