Chapter II: Balm

Balm definition: preparation used to heal or soothe the skin when applied to a wound or something that gives comfort, like to the soul.

Paul's 1st official shift.

The next day.

Bella is still pale, lethargic, and somewhat catatonic as she moves listlessly through Charlie's house but she really is trying. It was obvious to the Chief that his daughter was going through something, but for the life of him he didn't know what and Bella wasn't talking about it. At least not to him. He was doing all he knew how to keep her safe, but he couldn't navigate through her hormones. That had to be what it was. What else was there? She had everything else. When Bella wasn't at school, at Newton's, or in the kitchen, Charlie could count on her just sitting in her room or on the couch, listless and dull. Occasionally Bella washed her face though. To Bella's credit, she never appeared completely zombie-like when Charlie would ask her a question directly. A spark would appear as if she had a new purpose even if it was just to answer a simple inquiry. Maybe she wasn't talking openly out loud, but at least she was responsive and not dead.

For Bella, her thoughts and heartbeats had been racing off and on for the past 24 hours without permission and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. She just couldn't stop herself from thinking about Paul. If she had thought Jacob was beautiful, then Paul was positively heaven divine. His graceful movements, the taunt and sleek hardness of his muscles, his dark and vibrant russet skin, and his perfect lips that seemed upturned in a permanent scowl. Yes, even his angry face was gorgeous. She still didn't know what was wrong with her, but boy, she had it bad for Paul Lahote.

In the last full day, she had thought of him a little more often than she should have and if she was honest with herself, slightly more than she thought about Jacob. And when she did get around to thinking of Jacob, not long after did she resume thinking about Paul all over again. If not about him directly, then about his wolf, in particular. She had never been so mesmerized by eyes since the honey color of the Cullens' that was a direct result of their all-animal diet. Even Paul's natural browns had flecks of a similar colored gold in them that she found hard to ignore. Or forget. And then the shade of blue that had been his wolf's eyes was surreal to her; it was like they were two entirely separate, but equal halves since they were both part of each other. And she knew for a fact that they were two halves because the same ferocity and intense feeling of dread and wonder that elicited within her when his wolf had stared at her once he had phased was the same, identical look that Paul, the man, had given her. It was wild and feral. It was entirely him.

When she was with Edward, she had never focused on the danger of being surrounded by the entire vampire family. She knew that they were harmless. Even Jasper, whom had attacked her during her birthday party, didn't evoke this type of feeling of anxious fight-or-flight, but wonderful energy in her that had seemed to vibrate twice over when Paul had been here yesterday with Jacob and Sam.

Jake, she thought with a sudden anguished groan. She loved Jake. She did, but she wasn't in love with him. What Paul had said was true; even if and when Victoria was somehow out of the picture and all of them—the wolves, all of La Push, her friends, Charlie, and her-were once again safe, Bella wasn't the type to sleep with someone out of gratitude. So while she would give Jacob extra hugs and feed him with as much lasagna that he could hold in his wolf size belly, she would not, as was so eloquently put by another party, fuck him. That is definitely where she drew the line. "Oh, Jake," she said out loud.

As if in answer, she heard a loud bang from outside. It sounded like a trash can had fallen over…and then was hit by a semi-truck once it landed on the ground. Clank-clank.

A terse knock then sounded and Bella opened the door. She stared at a furious looking Jacob Black. And had a déjà vu moment when she saw Paul, with low, averted eyes, walk in directly behind him. They were on each other's heels, Jacob only edging out in front because he actually wanted to be in the house with Bella.

The same could definitely not be said for Paul.

Jacob looks surly as his eyes resettle on Paul's shape after they both entered the kitchen, Paul's back to the wall as Jacob stood by the kitchen table. "I'm sorry, Bells," he begins apologetically, "I couldn't switch him with someone else. Sam wouldn't let me. Especially since he couldn't do it yesterday, when he was supposed to," he said grittily.

Bella could practically see smoke radiating off his skin, Jake was so mad. The heck was going on with these two? She didn't know how they ran in the pack together when coordinating an attack, but she sure hated to think that these two wouldn't be able to get anything done when they fought so hard against each other all the time. Or at least the three times she had seen them both together.

"Oh boo-hoo, Black," Paul said cheekily. "I don't want to be here anymore than you want me here. This place reeks and it isn't just with the stench of bloodsuckers neither." Paul then turns pointedly toward the human and sneered at her. "Thought I told you to shower," he spat. "It's the least you can do."

"ENOUGH!" Jacob bellows, his voice seeming to shake the house.

Paul's devilish smirk stood on his face. "Don't beat me, Daddy Black," he scoffed in a sing-song voice. Jacob, seething and shaking, made a sudden grab toward him, but Paul slipped out of the way. "Haven't you learned anything in all the weeks you've been playing her puppy?" he asked scornfully. "She likes cold steel, not warm and furry, jack-ass. It's appropriate for her. She reeks just like them: death."

"Shut your mouth about Bella," Jacob threatened, taking a closer step toward him. Paul was unimpressed and didn't even bother to move this time as Jacob stood eye to eye with him, both nostrils flaring. "Make no mistake, Lahote," he said in a low growl, "you say one more bad thing about or to Bella, I'll have Sam gag order you to do my bidding just because I can and then I will personally fuck you up, myself." Jacob knew it was an abuse of power to have Sam alpha-order another packmate, but Paul Lahote was really getting on his nerves. And now that Bella was involved, he couldn't have the hothead messing things up. The worse thing that would happen is that she would die. And if she died, Jacob wouldn't have anything left to live for. "We clear on that?" he asked, daring Lahote to say something—anything-else.

Paul's mouth tightened but he wisely kept it closed. It was bad enough he was even here in the first place. Stupid girl. Stupid leech. And really stupid 'wanna-be-little Alpha.'

Jacob, now satisfied, turned his attention toward Bella and gave her a tired grin. "Hey honey, how are you?"

Bella's head shook. She wished he wouldn't worry so much about her. It was fine as a friend, because that's all he could be to her. "Fine," she said.

"Charlie here?" he questioned.

Again, Bella shook her head. "Overnight shift. Looking for bears," she answered. "'Member, Jake?"

"Oh yeah, sure, sure." Whoever said wolves had good memories clearly hadn't meant these shapeshifting teens. "I gotta get to patrol," Jacob said in wounded voice. "Tribal duties and shit. I'm never more than a howl away though, so don't hesitate if this fucker," he stated as a hand gestured toward Paul, "says or does anything to upset you. I don't care what it is. Don't let him get away with it."

"Sure, sure," she replied mechanically back.

Jacob took it. "Atta, girl, Bells." He pressed his hot lips to her forehead and she shut her eyes. He was so warm and she craved it. Or she craved something. She casted a sideways glance toward the other teen in her kitchen. Paul wasn't looking at them, but was staring at the stove. She had made beef stew for Charlie, who had finished most of it, and the pot was now sitting in soaking water in the sink. She had put away the rest. Momentarily she thought about asking if either of them wanted anything, even though she had only cooked enough stew to feed Charlie and not even herself really, when Jake let her go. "I'll see ya, hun. It'll be ok, I promise." He kept promising that.

Bella wasn't big on promises; look at what miserable situation her ex had put her into when he promised that he would love her forever.

"You better not leave your post, Lahote," Jacob warned. Paul's hazel eyes momentarily flashed his wolf's icy blues as Jacob pushed at him, again, with his giant, reddish hand. "I mean it," he said. "Something happens to her and I don't care if it's a broken fingernail, you're going to pay with your own hide. Get it?" The other teen continued to glare at him, still not speaking. Jacob shoulder-bumped him, hard, and Bella distinctly heard both of them growl at each other in an obvious display of dick pissing.

"Jake," she started apprehensively.

As if nothing had happened, Jacob's brown eyes turned back to warm and inviting. "Just making sure he knows who's boss."

"Sam," Paul retorted back, his face remaining the same beautiful but angry expression she had always seen him wear.

Jacob ignored him. "You'll be fine here," he said again sounding so sure as he addressed Bella. That was Jake alright. He was always so sure of everything.

She didn't bother to answer, but watched as Jake finally left, closing the kitchen door behind him. Bella walked over toward the door after him just to do something other than stare at Paul, whose head had popped up immediately once the teen wolf left. "Fuckin' whipped dog," Paul said mockingly to the already closed door. "It's bullshit that I'm here, you know," he continued out loud, not really speaking directly to her. "Finally get a little freedom from the council and I have to spend my nights here with a leech fucker. Can't catch a fucking break. It's always about the damn leech fucker with him."

She glanced at him with heavy, swollen red eyes but she kept her mouth closed, figuring he needed to let it out. Paul seemed to gracefully glide off the kitchen wall and had appeared before her, honey-hued eyes and all, pouring that angry stare into her very soul.

"Even now you stink of leech," he hissed contemptuously, now turning his attention on her fully as she backed up against the counter, "Of fuckin' leech! Half the pack wants to screw you. Don't know why; you're not even pretty enough to be my rebound after a bar's last call. Can't imagine how the bloodsucker could've left you behind," he snarled out sarcastically, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.

Her eyes blinked furiously at him and suddenly her lashes began to clump together. She tried to fight the prickling sensation behind them, but even she had to admit that she didn't fight the feeling for very long. It all felt so true. She allowed her hot tears to fall down her cheeks, not only believing in his words, but agreeing with them, as well. "I suppose you're right," she responded back meekly. "I am the reason he left."

A few seconds passed, but it is enough to feel the angry heat emitting from him to steam up the small kitchen. Paul growls and slams his hands on either side of her head, surprisingly not breaking into the plaster of the wall. He knows his own strength, she figured dimly. Paul, on the other hand, was livid at this pathetic excuse for a girl. He wanted to fight-needed to fight. Somehow, he had to push her and is visibly pissed that she just takes his insults as if she is already confirming what he knew all along. She's nothing, not even to herself. Well, if she was so sad about her own self, that was her problem. She wouldn't mess up his nose. His wolf senses were working in overdrive and he was desperately trying to stave off from heaving violent chunks into her mousy, limp hair.

"GO TAKE A GODDAMN SHOWER!" he roared, his mouth blowing hot air in her face. "Christ in all hell. Fuckin useless. Even as bait you shouldn't be stinking like this."

"I'm-I'm sorry," she stuttered. "I didn't mean to-"

"Just go fuckin shower," he said roughly, cutting her off. "If the bloodsucker ever did come back, he'd know exactly where you were. Good thing he's dead too cause that's what you smell like; you fucking match," Paul added spitefully.

"He...he's not coming back. Ever," she said sadly. "And-and...it's all my fault," she managed to sob out. "You're right. You're right about everything."

Paul said nothing to this last statement, but actually had the decency to look away. Damnit, he thought. The tingling irritation of kinship of losing a loved one resonated well within himself. He knew what it was like when a loved one wouldn't come back. Fuck, his own mom had abandoned him and that was no one's fault but hers. He knew what Bella was going through and it was complete bullshit that she thought it was all on her. None of it was probably even her fault. Paul could feel the lines around his eyes lose some of their frostiness as he glanced back at her thoughtfully and he took in the pitiful display of her weeping. And then he was annoyed that he didn't exactly find it completely revolting like he usually did when women cried in front of him. When women were crying around him, it was almost always due to something he either did to them or had said to them.

Or didn't do or say to them.

Fuck, he hated chicks when they got all mopey no matter the reason. This display of raw emotion reminded him of exactly why he hated getting too involved with girls: complications. It just wasn't worth a man's sanity. He hissed out a breath. "Just wash your ass, girl," he tried to say as calmly as he could. " You really do reek. I gotta be here on duty for the night too, ya know."

She sniveled and started to turn away from him. Ugh, that face.

"Hey," he called out to her a bit more gently when she reached the stairs. "Not your fault," he found himself saying. And he meant it. "That lemon eyed fucker that left you, it wasn't your fault. Fuck him." He didn't know why he was admitting this to her. He didn't owe her anything. Paul didn't have much use besides the obvious for women as a general rule, but he had always made sure each one of them knew upfront what he wanted and that was all he wanted. The bastard that had left her high n dry probably gave her no such option. The damn vamp was a coward, at best, who had taken all this girl was and had fucked up her whole world. That wasn't right and it wasn't fair, even if he didn't like her. Fuckin leeches. "I mean it, girlie," he insisted. "Don't need a shit like him around here. And you don't need him neither."

She didn't answer him. No, she did something much worse, in Paul's opinion. Bella was now looking at him and not just looking with a casual glance, but with her big, round and brown doe eyes as if he were something that he hadn't been in a long time: completely human.

He kind of hated it.

"Fuck you still standing there for?" he barked at her, suddenly very uncomfortable. And hot even for him. "Take the damn shower, I SAID! Need me to throw you in there and hold the water over your fuckin' head?!" He snapped when she continued looking him. He turned away before she resumed her slow ascent to the bathroom. He was a little annoyed by the whole exchange, more so because she had gotten to him. Of course, he had been expecting a fight from her. A crossed word. Something that would light a spark in her ass.

As he heard the shower head's jet spray, Paul began mumbling, "Damn tick lover ain't worth the trouble she's causing within the pack. It ain't right. Only the baby Prince wanted the damn job. Okay, may that idiot Quil and the other one, but me—I only want to kill that leech. Can't do it if I'm stuck here with the plainest and most uninteresting girl, ever." He heard the shower cut off. Fuck if it was on for even two minutes. "I know you're not done!" he cried out angrily toward the second floor. "Even if I went outside, I could still smell your stink! You're offending my delicate senses!" Now he was just being cruel for the helluva it, but he shrugged off his conscience. This bitch needed to toughen up or the next time a vamp came, she'd be done for. Cause he wouldn't be there to help. No way. The prince and his princess could have each other and rot for all Paul cared. He was no superhero.

Okay, maybe he was. I mean, come on, shapeshifting bad ass silver fox of a wolf? Yup, that was him. Sometimes he felt like damning his wolf, but he couldn't stoop so low as to ignore his wild side. He and his wolf were two halves of each other.

Paul heard the shower come back on. Now he was annoyed that she actually listened to him without a fight. Or even a word. Damn, he was so horny. He could run as his wolf to at least four neighboring cities to Forks, find a girl in each, and still not be satiated. In fact, that was exactly what he had done last night. And he still wanted to fuck. He had no idea what to make of it. Naturally, he had thought maybe a fight or two would get some of the more volatile aggression out, but all of the pack knew better than to get into a fight with him, except maybe Black, but all baby Alpha could think about was getting in good with the leech's pet human. He didn't much want to fight with him either. And Paul couldn't fight normal human men. No, he'd wind up crushing them and he sure didn't want to end up in jail. Which brought him back to fucking whatever moved into his peripheral vision. And that brought him back to the parasite-fucker. What the actual fuck was the big deal about her anyway? She wasn't that pretty.

That pretty? Oh, man, was he even looking at her like that, at all? Oh, no.

He exhaled loudly. "Figures. She won't argue with me and I sure ain't fucking her," he said nastily to himself, trying to convince every fiber in his being that he was not looking at her in that way. Not even a little. Had to be the stress of this unwanted task. And he was tired. That was it: he was horny and tired. "Goddamn redhead leech. Goddamn pack whore. Goddamn fucking life."

Upstairs, Bella felt the hundred pin pricks of water trample her back as she tried to soothe herself by rocking back and forth in the middle of the tub. She hated feeling so weak. Nothing she ever did was ever enough. Edward didn't want her or need her anymore. Jacob wanted her, but didn't need her. Not like he thought he did, anyway. And Paul just didn't like her. The three men that she had actually felt a little something for, whether love, friendship, or just plain humanity were so different from each other but the effect that they had on her was still the same: no one thought she was enough for them. Would she ever be?

She hadn't meant to make Paul so upset with her when she had turned off the shower earlier. It was just that the pain was so overwhelming. Walking was a chore and to get up and out of bed was even more so that she couldn't fathom how she had even been able to survive this long while moving so stoically through the last few months. She couldn't blame Paul for being disgusted with her; she was a shell of what she used to be. She shook violently again as the water turned tepid and her fingertips took on the visage of pale prunes. "I'm so sorry," she muttered out loud. She hadn't heard Edward's voice inside her mind for weeks now and she had lost her best friend because he was out hunting the something that was hunting her. Maybe she was only enough to be dead.

No, no, no, she chanted within herself. If she gave up now, then all the crap the pack was going through (Paul included) would be for nothing. Charlie, police chief and his entire staff, would be hunting "bears" for ages. What if one of the men overseeing the search were killed? What if Charlie was? One of the wolves? Everyone was giving up something, whether directly or indirectly, just to do the right thing and keep her safe. Maybe Paul had been right; the least she could do with herself was to shower.

With already wet palms, she wiped at her face with the heel of her hands and struggled to stand up with her wobbly legs. She would get better. And she wanted to get better. If not for herself then at least to prove that she could to everyone else because she definitely wasn't such a lost cause. And maybe, just maybe, to prove a point to the hotheaded shapeshifting wolf teen asshole downstairs. So many adjectives...

Back downstairs, Paul grunted noisily as he stripped to his bare ass in the kitchen, opened the locked door, and morphed into his wolf form once he heard the shower turn off for a second time. At least she didn't fall, he thought. She might've hurt herself. Aww, wouldn't that have been a shame? He finished spitefully. He so wished that he was in a nice, comfortable bed with a girl. Any girl, for that matter. He turned his furry head away from the house, but kept his furry back against its outside wall. Well, maybe not any girl. I hate this shit, Paul thought and his wolf agreed. He didn't like being tied down to this girl any more than the man did. However, he was determined to catch a few winks while stuck on this shitty duty detail even if he didn't care that Jacob's precious Bella would be stolen from him if the leech ever got ahold of her scrawny, paleface neck. Why should he care? It was the Cullens' fault for making him the way he was and that chick had been actually fucking one of them, knowing full well what the fucking thing was. A damn leech. Yuck, he thought again.

Finally, he fell into a deep, albeit somewhat uneasy, sleep that he refused to fully acknowledge just why it was so uncomfortable. Paul often slept outside as a wolf. He even hunted and took down big game as one. Him and his wolf were a complete package deal; love him, love the wolf. So if it wasn't due to sleeping outside or being scared of wandering 'bears' and other big game wandering around the forest's edge, then why did his inner wolf whine while tossing and turning itself into different sleep positions throughout the night?

Shit, he thought.

Sometime later, his grayish-white left ear instinctively perked up as it heard a continuous, but somewhat quiet sob, through the night. It was relentless and likely not stopping anytime soon. Paul's wolf growled but it didn't open his eyes. Wish that bitch would quit crying so damn much, he groused internally. Ruining my sleep.

Somehow, he still managed to fall back asleep anyway even through Bella's insistent wailing and the occasional mournful howl that sounded every other half hour in the dark.

*A/N: Any grammar mistakes are mine. Any mean statements are Paul's. Lol.