a/n: we hit 203 reviews!! AWESOME!!! I Am Switzerland101 left the 200th review, so thanks!! that really is amazing, and i can't tell you how happy i am about it. that's the most reviews i have gotten for a story before. i'm averaging about 20 reviews per chapter in this story which is great, but i think we could do better :D so far, i've gotten over 11,000 hits, 63 favs, and 137 alerts for this story. so here is the next chapter, and there isn't as much dialog as the other chapters, but it gives more insight into Molly's head. i do think you will really enjoy it though -hint hint-. review!!

Paul looked at me incredulously for a moment, then said "Home? Are you crazy?"

"Paul," I sighed. This wasn't something I was going to fight him over. I made to lean off the couch to get my shoes, but Paul's arms tightened around me.

"No, Molly," he said gently, yet firmly. "I can't just let you go back there after what she did."

I looked into his eyes and saw that they were deadly serious, but held another surprising emotion. He was scared. I could feel my own expression soften as I realized this. What was he afraid of?

As if sensing my unasked question, he said softly,"I can't let her hurt you again."

There was the undying concern for me again. I had yet to understand where it was coming from. "Paul," I said just as softly, needing to be convincing. I couldn't just never go home again. "It's my home. I have to go back. Plus it's really late, and she probably won't even be up anymore."

His eyes desperately searched my face for a few long moments. "I can't make you stay, can I?" he concluded with a sad smile.

I just shook my head, feeling guilty for making him sad when all he was trying to do was make sure I was safe. He nodded back at me in acceptance, and let me stand. As soon as I slid my feet into my shoes, however, Paul put his hands on my waist and picked me up as if I weighed nothing.

"What are you doing?" I asked as he set me, standing, on the edge of the couch.

"Give me your arms," he instructed instead of answering, turning so his back was facing me.

"Why?" I said, leaning back slightly.

"Molly," he huffed,"Don't be difficult." He reached behind him and grabbed one of my arms in each of his hands before pulling them around his neck. "Hold on," he said, and before I could respond, he leaned forward slightly causing my feet to lift up from the couch.

"Paul!" I gasped, quickly clasping my hands in front of his neck as he hooked his arms under my knees, bringing them to his sides. "I can walk you know. You don't have to give me a piggy-back ride. My mom hit me in the face, not the legs." I felt him tense as the words left my mouth, and I bit my lip thinking I shouldn't have said that. He relaxed quickly though.

"Like you said," he said, walking towards the front door as if I hadn't made that last comment,"it's late. I'm sure you're tired after everything. Just let me carry you. It's not like you're heavy."

I snorted at that last comment. "You know," I started, "you are really cramping my independent style."

"Maybe you are too independent for your own good," he teased back, but there was a serious undertone that I caught. "Besides don't girls like to be treated like princesses? People always fawning over them and giving them attention."

"Oh yes, I just love for people to fawn over me," I said sarcastically. "Well, if I'm the princess, then that makes you my court jester, you know." I smirked as I imagined the look on his face.

"Court jester," he said disbelievingly as he stepped off the dewy grass and onto the blacktop of the road. "Whatever."

"Well, if you don't want to be the court jester then I don't see anymore openings for you in my kingdom," I informed him in a terrible British accent. "Sorry," I said condescendingly, patting his chest with one of my hands. Gosh, he's muscular, I involuntarily thought.

"Oh, really?" he said, bouncing me up to get a better grip and causing me to squeal in surprise. His honey-coated laugh told me he did it on purpose.

"Do you have a better idea?" I stretched my neck, resting my chin on his shoulder so I could see the side of his face.

"Of course," he said, turning his head to look at me. I made a waving motion with my hand for him to continue. Without pausing a step, he reached around and grabbed me off his back, smoothly swinging me so he was holding me bridal-style close to his chest, then he said, in complete seriousness, "I am your knight in shining armor, babes." He added on the pet name, and there was a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth as if he wanted to make it sound less serious, but it just made his statement that much more sincere.

I couldn't help the small lump in my throat that formed when I realized that he actually meant what he said, and we weren't just playing a game anymore. I thought of how he'd rescued me from Tanner, stayed with me after my mom insulted me, made sure I was alright when Tiffany started the rumors, and now, making sure I got home safely.

"That you are," I whispered, afraid if spoken loudly the words would lose their meaning. I turned into his chest, reveling in his warmth against the cold night, and he pulled me close, resting his chin on the top of my head. We didn't speak the rest of the way to my house, and I could barely tell Paul was walking. It just felt like I was floating.

Paul set me down gently on the front porch, and I held my breath as I tried the knob, exhaling when I realized she hadn't locked me out whether on purpose or not. I looked at Paul and held a finger to my lips momentarily telling him to be quiet.

We silently moved through the living room and into the kitchen, not spotting my mom yet. As I looked around, I saw one of the table chairs had been knocked sideways on the floor, and there was also a broken glass on the ground surrounded by a brownish pool that had turned sticky over the hours. I exhaled loudly again and decided I would deal with that in a moment. I needed to find my mom first.

I turned and went down the hallway, acutely aware of Paul's presence as he followed soundlessly behind me. The door to my mom's room was ajar and the light was on. I prayed she was in there and that that wasn't just how she had left it after chasing me out of the house. I gingerly pushed it open, and saw her passed out on the bed with a bottle on the night stand and an almost empty glass balancing precariously in her clutched hand.

I crossed the room, leaving Paul in the doorway, and took the glass from Mom's hand. I noticed her steady deep breathing, and my shoulders slumped in a relief I hadn't realized I needed. I set it beside the bottle on the night stand before positioning her so she was on her stomach and her head on the pillows. I quickly grabbed a blanket and covered her with it, then grabbed the glass and bottle before turning out the light and exiting the room. I didn't even glance at Paul as I headed back down the hall. I didn't want to see the look in his eyes as he watched me, it dawning on him that I seemed far more practiced in doing this than I should be.

Sadly enough, I did have a basic routine for this, only needing to be tweaked when there were new elements that needed to be taken care of. I went straight to the sink and dumped the rest of the contents of the bottle down the drain, which I noticed wasn't very much. I set the glass in the sink and threw the bottle in the trash can. After that I grabbed the broom from the corner, straightened the chair back up, and began sweeping up the broken glass. My shoes were sticking slightly to the linoleum as I walked through the almost dried puddle. I dumped the glass shards in the trash can as well, then grabbed a cloth and wet it before starting to scrub the floor. I could see Paul's shoes from the corner of my eye as he stood just at the edge of the kitchen as if afraid to intrude. I didn't blame him. This was part of the world I knew, and I didn't want to bring him in this far.

I straighten back up, but I knew I wasn't finished. If my mother had planned on getting drunk, then she had probably gone out and gotten more alcohol before her binge. I went to the cabinet where I knew she usually kept a bottle or so, but it was empty. This didn't deter me, however, into thinking she hadn't gotten anymore. She had just hidden it. I went through every cabinet, looking behind every unused pot or pan, but found nothing. I knew she wouldn't have put it anywhere else in the house, even as a drunk she didn't want to be that distasteful. I put my hands on my hips and thought for a moment, looking around with a furrowed brow. I looked up at the higher cabinets where I hadn't found anything inside, then looked higher. Bingo, I thought.

I grabbed one of the table chairs and dragged it to the edge of the counter. I stepped up into it and made to step up again onto the counter top.

"Molly," Paul spoke for the first time since we had gotten there. I looked at him, and he looked as if he wanted to say something, but instead just walked over to me. He put his hands on my waist as I stepped onto the counter making sure I wasn't about to fall.

I could feel his warm hands through my shirt, but would have to think about that later. I ran my hand over the top of the high cabinets and the tips of my fingers hit something cool and hard, causing it to roll away from me slightly, just out of my reach.

"Can you give me a boost?" I asked, looking down at Paul.

He tightened his grip on my waist and lifted me up slightly. I stretched out my arm fully and grabbed the offending bottle. Instead of allowing me to step back into the chair, Paul just picked me up off the counter and set me on my feet. I glanced at the label on the bottle and noticed that it was harder stuff than what she usually drinks. I cringed, happy that she hadn't gotten to it and that I found it. I wondered what was so inviting about it...

I grabbed the top of the bottle and broke the seal, then twisted the top all the way off. I then walked over to the sink and pour the entire contents of the bottle down the drain. It glug-ed out of the bottle like it was breathing it's last breaths. I put the hand not holding the emptying bottle on the edge of the sink and leaned against it as I watched the clear liquid drain, wishing I didn't have to do this.

When I was satisfied that it was fully empty, I unceremoniously screwed the cap back on after rinsing it out, and tossed it into the trash as well. I heard it clank against the other bottle, and the noise made me feel slightly better. I then went to another cabinet and grabbed some aspirin and filled a glass with water. I went back to my mother's room and silently set it on the night stand. She would be needing that in the morning.

I finally turned back toward Paul who I knew had been watching me the entire time. "Will you go downstairs and let Boomer in for me, please?" I asked, wiping my hands on my shorts. "I'm gonna go upstairs for a minute, but I'll be down there soon."

"Sure," he said, reaching out and squeezing my hand quickly before disappearing down the stairway.

I walked up the other set of stairs toward my room. When I got there, I pulled off my shorts and grabbed a pair of cotton pajama bottoms, needing the little extra warmth. I crossed the hall into the bathroom and surveyed myself in the mirror fully. The ice had helped the swelling, and the bruising was not nearly as dark as it would have been. All in all, it looked far better than it did when I first looked in the mirror at Sam and Emily's, and hopefully could be easily covered by make-up for school. The cut on my lip was hardly noticeable already. I pulled my lip out slightly so I could see the damage inside my mouth. The cut there was jagged and thick, but not very long. It looked horrendous, but would more than likely heal quickly and no one would be able to see it.

I quickly took out my contacts and grabbed my black rimmed glasses before cutting out the lights and going down the two sets of stairs to the basement.

As soon as I turned into the room, Boomer jumped up on me and tried to lick my face. "Oh, Boomer, I'm so sorry you had to stay out there," I told him, rubbing his fur and scratching behind his ears. "You must be starving." I quickly went into the laundry room where I kept his bag of food and filled up his bowl. Leaving him to eat, I went back into the room where Paul was standing with a surprising smirk on his face.

"What?" I asked cautiously, eying him suspiciously.

"You just look cute. That's all," he said, smiling a little wider.

I remembered my pj pants and glasses that people rarely saw me in, and my cheeks reddened. "Thanks," I mumbled. "You know, Paul, you can go home if you want. Mom's passed out in full drunken stupor, and it's really late."

"Do you want me to go?" he asked, crossing his broad arms across his even broader chest condescendingly.

I hesitated. A part of me, albeit a very small part, wanted him to go just so I could avoid the questions that would inevitably appear about my mom, but of course I really didn't want him to go. He seemed to take my moment of silence as an answer. "That's what I thought," he replied, plopping himself down on the longer side of the sectional and stretching out.

I guess it won't hurt if he stays a little longer, I sighed to myself and grabbed the remote to the TV before situating myself on the shorter side of the sofa, our heads meeting at the corner of the two connected sections. I rested my head on my elbow and flipped on the TV. The glow of the TV was the only light in the room, giving everything a bluish tint. The only thing on at this time were the late night talk shows, so I just left it on one that looked semi-interesting.

I heard a loud yawn and turned to see Paul closing his mouth and running a hand over his face. "Are you ok?" I asked him. "Seriously, you don't have to stay."

"I'm fine, Molly," he said around another yawn. I gave him a pointed look. "It was just a rough patrol tonight." His eyes widened slightly as if he realized something he shouldn't have said.

"Patrol?" I asked, semi-confused.

"Yeah, with the other guys. It's our job, sort of. We like to make sure La Push is safe," he explained rather vaguely.

"So...like police or something?"

"Yeah, something like that," he said, flipping onto his stomach so he could see me better.

We were silent for a beat before he asked, "What's your middle name?"

This would probably have seemed completely random to other people, but we had been asking each other random questions at random times so much over the past weeks that it wasn't even very random to us anymore.

"Morgan," I answered. We had gotten so comfortable with it, that we hardly even stopped to deliberate whether or not we should answer. We usually just did.

"Molly Morgan. I like that. It sounds really familiar though," he mused. His face scrunched the tiniest bit causing him to make an adorable face.

"Have you ever had to read The Pastures of Heaven in school?" I asked through my smile at his face.

"Oh yeah. Hemingway, right?"

"Steinbeck," I corrected. "'Molly Morgan' is one of the short stories."

"Right, right," he said, remembering.

"What's yours?" I asked, lowering my elbow and resting the side of my head on my arms facing the TV.

"I don't have one."

"Really?"

"Mmhmm," he replied tiredly.

We continued on with a couple more questions before my eyelids were too heavy to hold open.

I awoke with a sudden start sometime later. I couldn't exactly pinpoint what had woken me up, but I turned my head and saw the top of Paul's head. He must have fallen asleep too.

The TV was still glowing with what seemed to be an informercial, and when I looked at it, I noticed that it was blurry. I reached up automatically to my face and my glasses were gone. I squinted around and saw them laying folded on the coffee table. I reached over to grab them and the throw blanket from the back of the sofa slid off of me. I remembered that I had fallen asleep too suddenly to have taken off my glasses or covered myself up.

I slid on my glasses and looked at Paul. His face was so gentle looking as he slept, his chest rising and falling evenly. Then I realized that he hadn't just fallen asleep when I had. He had taken off my glasses for me and covered me with the blanket. I was then hit with another realization: he had stayed all night. It wasn't that I was feeling ashamed that a guy had stayed over night; it was the fact that he had made the decision to stay all night to watch out for me. I felt my heart squeeze at how caring and attentive he really was. No one had ever done those kind of things for me.

I silently slid out from under the cover and padded back to the laundry room. I stood on my tiptoes and reached for a couple of the spare pillows we had on a shelf. Just as quietly, I went back to the sofa. I tossed my pillow on the short side of the sectional, then very gently lifted Paul's head and slipped the pillow beneath it. I hit the display button for the TV and the time read 3:46 AM.

I laid back down after turning off the TV, but stared at him for a moment. I couldn't resist running my fingers through his hair lightly. It was surprisingly extremely soft. My heart fluttered again at this realization, although I have no idea why. I could have continued to stroke his hair all night, but he shifted slightly and mumbled something before breathing evenly again. I withdrew my hand, and smiled at him before closing my eyes.

I sat up with a sudden jolt when I heard a door bang upstairs. I turned and saw Paul had lifted his head from the pillow and was watching me. We stared at each other in silence as I waited for another noise from upstairs. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard a door shut directly overhead.

"It's ok," I told Paul, sliding on my glasses. "She's realized that she has one hell of a hangover, and will probably just sleep it off the rest of the day in her room."

Paul didn't say anything, but sat up and stretched. I mirrored his movements. I looked out the sliding glass door and saw the misty blues of early morning. I let out a small yawn and wrapped the blanket around me before leaning back against the couch.

"Nice hair," Paul said, reaching out to flip my unruly morning curls. I grabbed his hand and moved my head back before he could reach it.

"Shut up," I said grumpily, but instead of releasing his hand, I turned mine and laced my fingers with his. It was a rather bold move for me even though we had held hands before. I had never been the one to initiate it. Paul didn't seem to mind, however, and he gave my hand a gentle squeeze before resting them between us, still entwined, on the sofa cushion. His thumb running over the back of mine slowly.

"Molly," he started after a few minutes. "We need to talk."

Here it comes, I thought. "I know. Let's get out of here though."

After Paul nodded his head in agreement, I ran upstairs quietly and changed into a pair of jeans and a teal t-shirt. I headed back down after sliding on my tennis shoes and grabbing my white zip up jacket. I didn't bother putting in my contacts. I could wear my glasses all day.

When I got downstairs, Paul already had Boomer's leash hooked to his harness. "Do you want to go home and change or anything?" I asked him.

"No, I'll be ok," he said, smoothing out his plain white t-shirt. "Thanks for the pillow last night, by the way." He gestured back toward the couch where he had folded the blanket and stacked the pillows on top of it.

"Thanks for the blanket," I said in return, then we smiled at each other. "And for staying. You really didn't have to stay all night."

"I had to make sure you were safe," he said sincerely.

We slid out the backdoor, and out the gate in the fence of the backyard. We walked down the road in silence, Paul holding Boomer's leash loosely in his hand, and our arms brushing against the each other occasionally. It was still fairly early. The grass and trees were still dewy and the air was cool and slightly foggy.

We walked all the way to First Beach. The breeze from the water was chilly, and there was no one else on the beach. I didn't know whether it was from the cold or the early morning, but it really didn't bother me much.

Paul unhooked Boomer so he could run around, then he just looked at me silently, and I knew that was my cue to begin explaining.

I sat down on the ground, staring out over the water, and he followed suit, sitting beside me, before I began. "You already know about my parent's divorce and everything, but what I left out was what happened to my mom after the divorce." I paused for a moment to take a deep breath. Paul's hand moved to cover mine, and I concentrated on his warmth. "She started drinking. A lot. Apparently I wasn't enough for her after my dad left. She really did love him, and he broke her heart. She started coming home drunk to the apartment where she and I stayed until she got a new job. It wasn't everyday or really bad when she first started, but then she started going out more with different guys. Pretty soon she was staying at home just to get drunk. I learned to take care of her, and to deal with her drunken tirades. Soon it was too much. I was only 16 and going to school. I couldn't handle having to try to stay out of her way and hiding her car keys to be sure she wouldn't go anywhere. I called my Uncle Eric, her brother, and he came all the way there from Seattle. He took care of it, got her some help and it was going really good until yesterday. She's not and never really was a raving alcoholic, but she took it too far."

"Did she hit you before?" I could tell he was trying really hard to control his voice.

"No," I said firmly. Paul raised his eyebrows slightly. "I promise, Paul. Last night was the first time. I'm not some battered teenager that's been keeping quiet. I refuse to be one of those. Yes, I love my mom, but if she ever started seriously hitting me, I would be gone."

"What about your dad?" Paul asked, concern flooded his eyes and his entire expression. "Yesterday was the first time I ever really heard you mention him other than telling me he cheated on your mom. Didn't he want to help you?"

"He was too busy to be bothered," I said, turning my head away from him, my voice thick and on the verge of breaking. "He was always that way. For me, at least. During the divorce, there wasn't even a big custody issue over who wanted me to live with them. Sure, I was old enough to make my own decision on who I wanted to live with, but I didn't have a choice, really. Dad immediately went for the 'demanding doctor' that wouldn't be 'fit as a single parent' route, basically just shoving me off on my mom. He wanted to be able to see that woman, my now soon-to-be step-mother, without anything tying him down. He didn't want me. My mom tried to get him to take me. If he was going to have his own life she wanted one too. She didn't want me either." I was blinking back tears at this point, then whispered, "No one does." My own parents didn't want me. I wiped away a stray tear, feeling extremely pathetic.

"I do."

My head whipped in Paul's direction, sure that I heard him wrong. "What?" My voice came out shaky.

"I want you, Molly. Everything about you. I want to be around you all the time. I always want to hear your laugh, listen to your voice. I want you to know I'm here for you no matter what and make sure you're ok. I want..." He trailed off, but his eyes were delving deeply into mine and I could see his eyes start blaze.

He lifted his hand to my unbruised cheek, then suddenly his lips were on mine.

I was shocked for a moment. My mind didn't know how to function anymore. Paul was kissing me! I quickly relaxed at the feel of his soft scorching lips, and I kissed him back, my heart pounding. Nothing had ever felt so right before. It wasn't a very heated kiss, soft and slow, but I could feel what he was trying to say. He cared. I finally understood that his strange concern for me was because he really did care. Not only that, but he liked me.

Paul pulled away after just a moment, and I slowly opened my eyes. He was staring right at me with an unsure expression.

I couldn't help it. A huge smile stretched across my face. His eyes immediately lit up, and a joyous chuckle left his lips. I threw my arms around his neck, and he stood, pulling me up with him. He wrapped his arms around my waist and twirled us around. He likes me! I screamed in my head.

"And you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said, still laughing in happiness. I'd never seen his face so bright before.

"So what does this mean?" I asked him when he was still again, and he had set me back on my feet with his arms still around me. I understood that he liked me, and I knew that I definitely liked him, but I wasn't sure what he wanted.

"Well, I hope it means you are mine, because I am most definitely yours whether you want me or not," Paul answered with the same enormous grin on his face.

"Paul," I said, looking into his eyes, not even having to pause and think. "I'm yours."

a/n: let me know what you think ;)