I have a gigantic crush on Paul, as I'm sure we all do. I wanted to try my hand at writing him and this is what came out. It's set a short time after Derek Un-Done, and contains some major spoilers from that episode.

My 12-year-old brother has type I diabetes (aka juvenile diabetes, though that's misleading because someone of any age can get it), and it sucks. But he's the bravest kid I know. Alex's situation is basically my brother's situation. I tried to explain the jargon as best I could—if something's not clear feel free to ask!

Oh, and can anyone guess why I named Paul's wife Alicia? (Hint: It has something to do with stepcest.)

One more thing, and I promise that's it for the a/n, I know I tend to make these excruciatingly long.

Italics are Paul's thoughts. Bold and italics are Paul's notes.

Enjoy, and review please :)

--Brandi

Disclaimer: Oh, Paul. If only I owned Paul. But I do own all the diabetic supplies I mention, though that doesn't get me very far since I can't use them.

Paul's Case Files

"Paul, I just can't take it anymore!" Casey wailed as she stormed into his office. "He doesn't love me, I just know it!"

Paul began to respond in a soothing voice, but before he could get out more than "Casey, listen—" she had slammed her fist into the side of his desk, creating a tremor that shook the room. Paul's mug teetered on the edge of the desk for a moment, then came crashing to the floor, soaking his feet with coffee and shattering.

He didn't even feel the hot liquid seeping into his shoes; he was too busy eyeing a furious Casey, who raised her hands above her head and clapped them together.

Thunder rumbled, and after flickering for a moment, the lights went out.

Lightning reverberated off the walls as Casey's eyes began to glow red. She chanted, "Double, double, toil, and trouble…"

Paul scrambled out of his chair in a panic and cowered in the corner by his file cabinet. As Casey advanced, taking on an otherworldly glow, eyes still flashing red, Paul covered his face with his hands. But he could still see her drawing ever closer.

Flames sprang from her fingertips and he buried his face in his lap, trying to block out the horrific figure before him.

Casey was right in front of him now; he screamed, thrashing around in an attempt to keep her away…

"Paul?"

He sat bolt upright in bed, forehead glistening with sweat, breathing heavily. It took him a moment to realize he wasn't in his office—he glanced wildly around the room, half expecting to still see a possessed Casey. His eyes landed on his wife Alicia, who was gripping his arm in concern and calling his name.

"Paul!"

Relaxing immediately, Paul wiped his brow and placed a hand over his wife's. "It's okay baby, I was just dreaming."

She retained her concerned expression, but let go of his arm. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he sighed, "I'm just going to try to go back to sleep."

"Dad? Mom?" The voice of their twelve-year-old son Alex could be heard from down the hall.

Both Alicia and Paul's ears perked up at this, and Paul patted his wife's leg and said, "I'll get him this time. I'm awake now anyway."

Alicia nodded sleepily and rolled over on her side. Paul got up and made his way to Alex's room to see what the problem was.

"Sugar low, Dad," Alex mumbled, attempting to sit up.

Paul jumped into action. Grabbing his son's glucose meter off the nightstand, he quickly pricked the tip of Alex's ring finger, allowing the droplet of blood to form, and placed the finger on a test strip connected to the meter. It sucked up the blood and registered a definite "sugar low": 56.

"Be back with juice," Paul called, already halfway out the door. Alex nodded weakly after him.

Paul brought a cup of orange juice upstairs quickly; they kept cartons on hand for such emergencies as this. Alex drank the juice slowly, and Paul sat with him, rubbing comforting circles on his back.

Alex had been diagnosed with insulin-dependent, or Type I, diabetes three years ago. He had gone on the pump last year, which meant no more shots of insulin at every meal. All he had to do when he ate now was enter the number of carbohydrates he was about to consume into the pump's computer screen, and the pump would "bolus," or allocate the proper amount of insulin to cover the carbs. He attached the pump through a tube in his stomach, which had to be changed every three days. But that was a heck of a lot better than four or five shots a day.

Since his pancreas had stopped making insulin completely, Alex had to rely on the pump to help his body process sugars. He also had to continue to prick his fingers several times a day to monitor his blood glucose level. Normal range for Alex was 80 to 180 milligrams of glucose per deciliter of blood. Times when he felt dizzy or nauseous probably meant he was below 80; luckily he didn't have many "lows" during the night, and when he did, he always felt them coming on and woke up. "Highs" were less scary, since there was no danger of him slipping into a coma; but, they were more annoying, since they were characterized by crankiness.

It worked to Paul's advantage though; any time Alex was being ornery Paul simply sing-songed, "Check your blo-od!" and that shut him right up. And if he really was high, Paul would always say "Told ya!" good-naturedly. Then Alex would groan, bolus extra insulin to bring his sugar down, and then go back to his life as a normal kid.

Alex was so brave to deal with his disease so well, and Paul was so proud of him. He was proud of his wife, and himself, too, really, for how well they handled things. They lost a lot of sleep during periodic rounds of hourly blood-checking, had to keep track of all of the extra doctors' appointments, and remind Alex to keep up with his glucose log. Not to mention keeping tabs on the long list that contained the carb counts of everything Alex ate. A candy bar or can of soda was easy—just look on the package or can. But tuna casserole or banana bread—that wasn't so simple.

Alex brought Paul out of his reverie with a reminder to check on him again in fifteen minutes to make sure his sugar level had gone up from the juice.

Realizing he wouldn't be getting back to sleep for a while, Paul tiptoed to his office and curled up on the sofa. He reached for a thick binder on his desk labeled "Case Files." He smirked at his own cleverness with words, opening the folder to reveal pages upon pages of Casey McDonald-related material.

He flipped through the entries from the last couple of years, marveling at how much, and yet how little, had changed.

I met Derek today. An experience, let me tell you. I tried to get him to open up about Casey and Sam's relationship, but he wouldn't have it. Jealous, maybe?

At first I thought Casey was crazy for wearing Derek's shirt today instead of borrowing something of her mom's. But after half an hour of her ranting about him, I understand why. Boy, do I understand why.

Casey's having trouble deciding whether she should tell Kendra that Derek's about to cheat on her. Or something. I wasn't really listening once she started rambling, though I did catch Derek's name about every five seconds. What else is new?

Today Casey was in a tizzy because rumors were running wild at school. Miraculously, she didn't mention Derek once. But of course then I found out the rumors had to do with Kendra, and Kendra's dating you-know-who. All roads lead to Rome, it seems.

Casey was asking for help with a bully. At first I thought she was the one in trouble. But no, it wasn't about her. I'll give you one guess as to who it was really about.

She showed me the movie Derek made for her Sociology project today. She doesn't see anything the slightest bit romantic about this. Just sayin'.

More Max drama today. Something about Ivanhoe. Casey is in denial. This can't be a healthy relationship they have going.

Casey made it through an entire session without mentioning the D-word. But at the end, Derek literally ran into her as she stepped out into the hall. I think they could hear the cry of "Der-ek!" all the way in China.

Today Casey had yet another Max-related freak-out. She thinks he's going to be weirded out by her family if he comes to dinner. Which of course includes a certain stepbrother, even though she didn't actually say that. Even when she's not thinking about Derek, she's thinking about Derek. Ah, gotta love consistency.

Paul chuckled his way through the file. Reading about Casey's oblivion always made him smile. Though he knew it was a little sadistic of him, no one had to know. As long as he kept being her rock, he could laugh at her all he wanted in the privacy of his home office. Because he cared about the girl, he really did. It was impossible not to like her, even when she was a manic mess.

His fifteen minutes of waiting were up, and he checked Alex again. He had fallen into a deep sleep, and Paul was careful to prick his finger gently so as not to wake him again. His sugar was back up to the normal range, at 91. So Paul went back to bed.

That morning, Paul settled in for a long day of work. He knew Casey was due for this week's appointment, and that always put a bright spot in his day, even though he knew it would be frustrating, possibly emotionally draining, and probably would make him feel a little useless.

She came in right on time, pouting already. It was going to be one of those days.

"Paul, he kissed her."

"I'm sorry, who kissed whom?" Derek kissed a girl.

"Derek kissed Sally." Bingo.

"Really? And this makes you upset because…?" Because you're jealous.

"Because! Derek kissed her, and then said he just wanted to be friends! He's such a player!" Ah, there it is. Lame excuse that has something to do with sisterhood, feminism, etc.

"Now wait a minute, Casey, you need to slow down and start at the beginning." Because I need to know every detail—my life isn't nearly as soap opera-ish as yours and I like to live vicariously through people.

"Remember how I told you about that disastrous dinner at my house with Sally and Max last week?" How could I forget? Max treating you badly, how often does that happen?

"Yes…" Paul wasn't exactly sure where this was going.

"Okay, well, after that dinner Sally shot Derek down when he asked her out. I didn't let him know I heard this, though. I went to pick Derek up from work last night, and Sally and I got talking. She happened to mention that Derek kissed her, and it was hot, and it took her breath away, and then he told her he just wanted to be friends. Can you believe him?" Yes, I can. He's Derek.

Casey's explanation had come out all in one breath, and she sat there expectantly, regaining composure and giving Paul that you'd-better-be-helpful look.

Paul sighed. "Casey, I don't think you're mad at Derek." You're mad at yourself for thinking that you want him to kiss you like that.

"I'm not? Okay, Paul, towards whom should I direct my anger?"

"You shouldn't be angry at anyone. I think you're really just…sad." Because you don't have Derek.

"Sad?"

"Yes. You want someone to kiss you like that." You want Derek to.

"I…I do not. I mean, I do. I have Max." Casey looked mighty uncertain.

"Well, you said it took Sally's breath away, and that she described it as 'hot.' Have you ever had that with Max?" No, please say no.

Paul was glad to see Casey was getting pretty flustered at this point. He was getting her thinking—that was always his goal, though he wasn't usually so blunt. But this was a golden opportunity. Jealous over Derek kissing another girl? He had to make her see it. He just had to.

"You always do this to me, Paul. I don't know. I don't think so."

"You 'don't think so' what?" You don't think Max is right for you.

"I don't think I have that kind of passion with Max." There you go. Good girl.

"Okay, that's a start." To admitting you like Derek.

"A start?"

"Yes. I think you should evaluate the relationships you've had, and see why you're feeling unfulfilled." I know why! Ask me, ask me!

"Huh." Casey was at a loss for words. He hoped she'd get up the courage to finally break it off with Max. But he knew he shouldn't count his chickens before they hatched.

"Well, uh, thanks Paul," Casey said kind of dazedly. "I guess I won't go yell at Derek then…" she drifted out of his office, brow furrowed in thought.

And it always comes back to Derek somehow, Paul thought with a smile.

Later that day, Paul had to rush out of school to meet Alicia and Alex at the endocrinologist. Alicia called him to say they'd left the glucose log on the counter; could he please stop home and pick it up? So Paul stopped by the house to pick up the paperwork, and while he was there he couldn't resist running upstairs to update his Case File: Casey is jealous because Derek kissed Sally. She's obsessing over the fact that it was 'hot.' Good sign.

After a long afternoon discussing lows, highs, trends, boluses, nutrition, and hormones, Paul was exhausted.

They sent Alex upstairs to work on homework, while Paul stood in the kitchen helping Alicia cook dinner; he occasionally stirred the spaghetti as she chattered on about her day.

He enjoyed listening to her speak, even if she wasn't saying anything important. Her voice had a calming effect on him, and he let go of all the stress of the day, especially his worries over whether Casey and Max were still Casey and Max, or if she had finally ended it.

"How was your day, hon?" Alicia asked, emptying the tomato sauce into a bowl to be microwaved.

Paul smiled. "You know that girl I always talk about, the neurotic one with a major crush she can't admit to having?"

"Mm-hm," Alicia encouraged him to continue as she unwrapped some leftover rolls from the freezer.

"She's jealous that the guy she likes kissed another girl, and, she realized she has no chemistry with her current boyfriend."

"Aw. Poor kid. I'll bet she didn't admit any of this, though, did she?" Alicia asked with a smirk.

"Of course not. You know how good I am at reading between the lines." He placed his arms around her waist from behind, nuzzling her neck as she took over the spaghetti stirring.

"I think one of these days you really should tell her how she feels about this guy. It'd be a lot easier on all of you."

Paul laughed. "All in good time, my dear. All in good time."