Chapter 2

Early Monday afternoon found Paul arriving at the Georgia Dome to prepare for RAW.  He pulled his bag behind him as he navigated the corridors, searching for the men's locker room.  He was exhausted, both emotionally and physically.  No matter how hard he had tried, he just couldn't sleep much at all the night before.  He would have been surprised if he had gotten 3 hours of sleep; the night had been spent tossing and turning with visions of Gabrielle and Dwayne assaulting his mind.  When he had finally risen for the day, he was sure of one thing:  Dwayne had to pay, and pay dearly.
       It hadn't helped that he was yet to get in touch with Gab.  The thoughts and feelings that swirled around in his head were driving him crazy.  He felt like he was in an altered state of existence.  Nothing seemed real.  Everything felt two-dimensional and empty, even himself.  The only thing he wanted was to find Gabrielle and hold her forever.  If I get her back after this, he thought, I'll never let her go.  Never.
       Paul's feet carried him down the hallway while his mind was far away and lost, but as he turned the corner, he saw the one thing that could bolt him back to reality.
       Dwayne.
       He was standing outside his dressing room, listening to Maven feed his ego.  Paul felt bad for the rookie, he was too new to know what kind of an asshole "The Rock" really was.  All Maven saw was the "People's Champion."  He saw someone to idolize.
       All Paul saw was a self-serving malicious bastard who didn't deserve to breathe.
       Paul wouldn't have been able to move if he had wanted to.  His eyes were riveted to Dwayne's arrogant smirk.  That's the mouth that forced kisses from my Gabrielle, Paul thought.  That's the mouth that threatened her and berated her when she tried to fight him.  And that's the mouth that's going to taste my fist before this is all over.
       As if reading his mind, Dwayne's gaze shifted from Maven to Paul across the hall.  His smile faltered for a second, then widened.  Paul thought he was going to explode at any second.  His fist tightened around the handle of his suitcase, his knuckles going white.  Without thinking, he walked over to the two men at the door.
       "I need to talk to you," Paul said through gritted teeth as he stared daggers into Dwayne.  "Alone."
       Dwayne grinned and replied with a condescending tone, "Sure, Paul, no problem."  He barely glanced at Maven as he continued, "See ya later, kid, alright?"
       Paul's eyes remained riveted on Dwayne as the young rookie spat out a few more fawning platitudes and went back to the main locker room.  He didn't know what he was going to say, but he had to say something.
       The tension between the two men was like tangible electricity, and it was mirrored in Paul's blazing eyes, as they stayed locked on Dwayne.  They stood there in silence while time slowed to a crawl.  Finally, Dwayne spoke, his voice dripping with smugness.
       "How're you doing, Paul?  Better than the last time I saw you, I hope-"
       Paul cut him off abruptly.  "Shut up.  Just shut the fuck up before I shut your goddamned mouth for you."  He was seething and barely able to control himself.
       "Temper, temper," Dwayne said, still smirking, "What would Gab say if-" He was interrupted again as Paul grabbed him by the shirt and roughly threw him into the closed door they stood in front of.
       "I told you to shut up, asshole.  Don't you dare talk about Gabrielle to me!"  Paul's words were quiet, but laced with venom.  His face was so contorted in rage that his own mother might not have recognized him at that moment.  He pushed Dwayne into the door again as he continued. "I know what you did, you son of a bitch.  I know it all.  You're only breathing right now because I allow it.  You're going to pay for what you did to her."
       Dwayne's ever-present smirk faded, but did not disappear completely.  "Fucking Trish," he muttered to himself, "I knew she was too weak."  Then his grin returned as he addressed Paul.  "What are you waiting for, Pauly?  Why don't you just hit me now?  Teach me a lesson.  Come on, I'm begging you."  His eyes gleamed as he egged Paul on.
       Paul shook his head slowly yet never looked away from the man before him.  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?  I beat you within an inch of your life before a live RAW then get hauled off by security and get suspended for God knows how long.  Hell, I could even lose my job and go to jail.  You'd like that just fine, you bastard.  You're not worth it, though.  But just you wait.  I'm going to get you.  When this show is over, your ass is mine."  Paul let go of Dwayne's shirt and took a step back, his voice full of pure hatred.  "And if you ever go near her again, you're a fucking dead man."
       The grin on Dwayne's face was now gone, replaced with a look that was a mixture of fear and anger.  He swallowed hard and opened the door to his dressing room, letting out a final parting shot before vanishing inside.  "I don't know about that, she seems to enjoy herself when I'm near her."  And the door slammed.
       It took every ounce of willpower in Paul's being to keep from tearing the door off its hinges and mauling Dwayne then and there.  He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep breath.  It was just a pathetic attempt at goading him into a mistake, and he knew it, but it just shredded his heart further.
       I just have to get through tonight, he thought.  After that… I'm ending this.  He threw one last smoldering glance at the door he stood in front of, then grabbed his suitcase and stormed off.

Chapter 3
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