It has been awhile, and once more a What If...this series makes me want to do more to it...maybe cause all the guys are great...and yeah..when it says "Games" in the title, prepare yourself for girl smut...it's basically because i don't do it in the main stories, so i create Games. And no it's not always with Kate/ (guy from Agency series)...no there are other that aren't all mine...Paige made the first: "Dangerous Games" which was James/OC (Keela) as a xmas present. Then there was" Wicked Games" , a Kate/ James fic which became a continuation of it. Then we (Paige and I) made "Bloody Games" which featured James (yet again because he is awesome)/ Kayla of Paige's "Far From Human", we just felt the pair was just too awesome to ignore so we did it and if you go to my site found on my profile page, you will find a link to it. Then, about a year ago or more, Paige set to make me birthday present featuring James/Paul (woo!) in "Deadly Games". She is just about finished now lol, but once more..it inspired me...and this was the result..."Hurtful Games". It parallels her story, but doesn't need to be read to be understood as we crossed paths when writing it, so in the Paul/Kate and Riley/Paul interactions is a result of both my and Paige's brainstorming. Paige started the events that created "Hurtful Games" which is mainly Paul's view, and this is would be Kate's side of the story.

Keep in mind once more, that this is a WHAT IF and has absolutely no bearing on the original story, this is for fun only. Enjoy!

Part I

November first. It was well past two in the morning when the party wound down. Mel had collapsed sleepily on the couch almost and hour gone now, her boyfriend was attempting to rouse her so they could head out. Mel's roommate, Devon, was already gathering the cape from her costume and headed for the door with her girlfriend, Alma. Kate smiled and waved at the girls as they left, gathering up some leftovers from the counter to hand over to Mel as she finally pulled herself from the couch.

She hugged her friend tearfully, her weariness letting her emotions seep through easily. She thanked Mel and her boyfriend, happy they'd come to her birthday party, glad she had people around her to help her out of this rut.

Well, it wasn't a rut. It was a life-altering event that had left her wary, weary and heart-broken. It had barely been four months since the incident, as she called it. She'd been taken hostage by the brother of the man she'd loved. Both men were assassins. That title didn't bother her in the way that it used to. John did what he did trying to help people, something she understood now, but his brother had been something else entirely. She had turned herself over in the hope of ending it, however, things are never so simple as all that. He'd taken her to lure his brother. This was more than what their employers had planned. It was something far more personal.

She shook her head, not wanting to think about it, not wanting to remember it. Whenever she closed her eyes the images and the memories flooded her unbidden. It had lessened, but only just. Remembering or forgetting, it wouldn't change the fact that she had lost the one true love of her life and she didn't know if she could ever fully recover from that fact.

It was a selfish and self-punishing thought, believing that she could never recover from this. Time healed all wounds, that's what people said anyway, and she didn't believe it—or rather, she didn't want to believe it. In a way, she really didn't want to forget, didn't want to recover—she feared that if she did she would forget John and she never wanted that to happen. She had never felt something so grand or pure as what she had felt for him, that agonizingly wonderful emotion that filled her every moment she'd been near him; and that first kiss that they'd shared would remain the happiest moment of her life and she found that she didn't want anything to ever surpass her memories of that wonderful man or the days she'd been at his side. She didn't want anything to make her happier than that, if anyone could believe such a thing, but it was true.

Kate felt her eyes brim with tears again as she watched her friends leave, forgetting the fact that there was one still remaining, only did the nervous cough rouse her from her tortuous thoughts.

"Paul..." She half gasped, quickly moving to wipe the tears from her eyes. She'd promised herself not to cry in front of the man who stood there in his samurai gi and hakama. They were becoming good friends, but she hardly wanted to dump the entirety of her emotional turmoil on him. That wasn't right. She'd talked to him about some things, but only when he'd insisted, otherwise she busied herself with countless projects trying to hide what she felt so intensely.

Paul didn't speak at first, holding back the one remark that had instantly come to mind: Are you okay? It would certainly not help matters. Of course she wasn't okay and it would take a bit more time before she could even begin to truly feel even slightly okay. He patiently let her gather herself, gathering his own thoughts before proceeding.

"I was going to go...unless there was anything else you needed." He waited for her response, partially wondering if he should crash on her couch. He didn't know what it was, but something felt wrong. It was fine a few hours ago, but there was an itch between his shoulders that told him something wasn't right, but he couldn't put his finger on what.

Kate shook her head quickly, demurring to the fact that she needed further protection, she really didn't want him to do any more than he already had and she hopped that he wasn't putting himself out of the way to do all of this for her. All those precautions. He'd promised her that she was safe, that he had made sure John's former employers wouldn't come after her, made sure she wasn't tailed and even had some of his people come by to check the place, making sure no one was watching her. She knew the people he dealt with were not to be taken lightly, but all the same, it made her feel all the more anxious.

"I'll be alright...thank you for coming and everything...i appreciate it." She pulled him into a hug, feeling him tense slightly at her embrace before relaxing. Like John he hadn't been so familiar with such close personal contact on even a friendly level.

Paul was a good man, from what she'd observed, and though he'd said it was his promise to John that kept him around, she wondered how long it would last. She hoped they could remain friends, whatever happened.

Paul pulled from her embrace and smiled kindly down at her, making her sadness drift slightly away. He always made it a bit easier for her to move on, made it less painful. Having a friend she could talk to helped and he'd been the only one she could truly talk to about everything that had happened. Well, almost everything—sometimes she could scarcely approach the topic.

"Then I'll head on home." He said, patting her on her shoulder and giving her a brief kiss on the top of her head, much the way her elder brother used to. "Happy Birthday, Kate."

"Thank you, Paul." She smiled, watching him leave.

She stared at the door a few moments, her mind jumbled with tired thoughts and emotions ranging from joy to sadness coursing through her at sporadic intervals, leaving her not knowing what to feel. She wiped her hand over her eyes again, fighting back another sudden batch of tears that threatened to fall.

"I don't want to think about it..." She murmured, quickly turning to put the remnants of her cake and the leftover Chinese food away. She quickly checked to see if the front door had locked. She nodded at the door; Paul was always one step ahead, he'd locked it before he'd closed it.

Kate headed back up the stairs to her room, feeling the need to get out of her costume. The corset, she especially wanted to get out of. Beautiful as the outfit was, she would be relieved to get into something not so constrictive.

She yawned sleepily, the day was finally catching up with her, her emotions had more than worn her out this time. She'd stupidly let her mind wander to what she swore she'd not think about, remembering when she had thought about how nice it would be to have John be with her on her birthday. She'd spent the entire morning bawling into her comforter and the fact that the bed had been John's only made her feel worse.

She wiped a stray tear from her cheek and sighed heavily. Why had she chosen to keep his bed and not hers? She was purposely torturing herself. She shook her head again. "No...I'm not going to do this..." She told herself firmly as she unlaced her corset and pulled the Halloween garment, draping it over an ornate chair that sat in the corner of the room.

Kate didn't know how long this would last, this torment she put herself through. Part of her couldn't stand to feel it, she'd sooner die than feel that agonizing pain of loss, but the other part of her embraced it stubbornly, terrified of letting go. How much longer would these emotions hold her captive?

She slipped on her pale white nightgown, her thoughts turning to a low hum of nothingness as she began to sort her laundry on her dresser and placing them neatly into drawers. If she tried to think of anything right now she just knew she would end up crying herself to sleep and that really had to stop. She couldn't carry on like this. No. Not like this.

The feel of cool steel on the back of her head had her tensing, her shoulders stiffened fearfully. She closed her eyes, holding back more tears. In front of him she would never cry. Not ever. She didn't know how she knew, but she had. Ever since the incident she'd found herself expecting him to turn up. Despite Paul's continual insistence that she was safe and that her one enemy was dead, she just knew he'd come one day. She'd hoped otherwise, but she'd known the moment she met him that James was a near imposs ible man to kill. Now he'd finally come to finish the job.

She'd left the back door open, she thought briefly but mentally shook that off, even if she had locked it he would have found a way in. There was no doubt in her mind about that.

"I told you there would be no one left to protect you after that night, didn't I?" He asked, his voice quiet, a confidence in his tone that she remembered only too well.

Suddenly there was the sound of another gun cocking somewhere in the room. A voice, calm and cold as ice, said, "Mistake number one, James."

Kate's eyes shot open, her heart leapt with a surge of hope. Paul. Despite Paul's arrival on the scene, James had still not removed his gun from the back of her head, she didn't dare make a move, not yet.

"How nice of you to join us, Paul." James said, his tone remaining level. She wondered if he was surprised that Paul was there, if he was he certainly didn't sound it. Somehow she imagined that he expected everything. If she knew anything about the man, it was that he was just that good.

"Run, Kate," Paul said, but she was hesitant to move. She knew she had to, but her feet refused to go, half of her worried that James would shoot the moment she tried. "Kate!" Paul said sharply.

His sharp tone shocked her into moving. She moved swiftly out of the patch of James' gun. Passing the two men, she hurried to the stairs, frantically trying to remember where she'd put the paper which had the number on it, the number Paul had told her to call in case of a dire emergency. Kate was sure this qualified as "dire" enough.

She rushed down stairs, nearly tripping over her cat on the stairwell as she made her way towards the phone near the kitchen. She rifled through the address book that sat on a shelf just below the phone on the wall. A card stapled to a page near the back of the book held the number which she dialed hastily, her heart palpitating anxiously.

"Hello?" The male voice on the other end asked, his tone wary and just as relaxed.

"Y..yes...Riley? Riley Hughes?" She asked, nervously glancing at the stairs, halfway listening for any gunfire or shouting, but she only heard muffled words, nothing she could make out.

There was a great pause before he answered. "Yeah?" He asked all the more cautious. She didn't blame him, she'd only met him once and that was months ago,he had good reason to be suspicious of a random caller who knew his name.

"It's me...Kate." She explained, her voice quivering. "He's here...James. Paul is fighting with him." She informed him, as quick as her fearful stutters would let her.

"James?!" Riley was clearly surprised. "He's not...?" He couldn't finish the question. He always knew that man was trouble, but alive? He'd survived? "I'm on my way." He said quickly before hanging up. Kate still held the phone in her hand, only partially away from her ear. No doubt Paul had given Riley the location of her house, she knew he trusted Riley more than anyone in his group, the only one outside of John that he'd ever trusted.

She slowly hung up, jumping as she heard a shout from upstairs: "Kill me!" It was Paul. Her heart sped up once more, terrified. She wanted to help, but the only weapon she possessed was John's old Beretta and that was in the room they were fighting in, hidden under clothes in her dresser. She couldn't risk rushing past James to get it. That was suicide.

Kate jumped again as several shots were fired. She raced upstairs, not thinking twice about what she was doing. If Paul had died because of her too, she'd never forgive herself.

She stopped at her doorway, her eyes scanning the room, no James, Paul was leaning out the window though his gun hung to his side on this side of the window, no doubt hiding the fact that he was the one who'd fired from anybody who'd woken up and looked out their windows. Others would assume he was just another curious person wondering where those shots had come from.

"I heard shots," she said. "Did you...?" She let her sentence trail off, unable to ask if the man who'd almost killed her was dead himself. She scanned Paul's face for some sign, but all she could see was anger etched across it; even reigned in, that look made her shiver.

"He's not dead, no," Paul said tersely. James should have been dead. Escaping from the explosion was bad enough, but obviously James was now well enough to be working again, which didn't bode well for Paul. And how the hell had James known where to find Kate? The only thing Paul could think of was that one of his men was really not his man after all.

"Are you...all right?" Kate asked softly, her voice trembling. She'd thought all this was past her. Guns. Fighting. Death. Why did that man have to live? Why? Part of her knew he would, but she'd so desperately hoped that she was wrong. She was still falling apart inside, but she was starting to move past it. Past that idea that that man was still alive and after her. She'd gotten too comfortable. Careless! Stupid! She berated herself mentally, fear still clinging to her.

He didn't answer her question, but he looked troubled. She frowned worriedly.

With a sigh Paul reached up and reset his bloody nose. More blood gushed out around his fingers before the flow finally stopped, the nose having been put back to sorts. That must have been one hell of a punch, his nose was already darkening to a deep red and purple. But at least he'd made it out alive, she was thankful for that.

Kate went into the bathroom and wet a washcloth with the intention of cleaning Paul up. "Here," she said, moving back into the bedroom. "Let me help you."

Paul pushed her away. "Don't, Kate," he said, his brow furrowed, his displeasure showing clearly.

She looked up at him, a hurt expression befalling her features. "I...I'm sorry," she muttered, wringing the poor washcloth between her hands worriedly. What had she done? She knew he was upset. James had escaped again. She wasn't happy either, but why would he not let her help? Her emotions were already frayed, and she was still exhausted, her emotions skimming the surface fitfully, coming out in bursts before she could stop them.

Her emotions were spilling now and she no longer had strength to hold them in. Kate sat down on the edge of the bed, her exhaustion and emotions beginning to overwhelm her. She didn't know what had finally done it, but now that James was gone, for now, everything filled her. Sadness. Fear. Anger. She couldn't contain it, his refusal of her help setting off a final wave of emotion that overtook her. Tears sprang to her eyes and she let them fall as she sobbed softly.

"Kate..." Paul started, turning towards her.

"No, Paul," She said, holding up a hand, pausing, tears still streaming down her face. "You said I was safe here. You said he was dead!" But somehow she'd known otherwise. She didn't know how or why, but she'd known. Why had she been right? Why couldn't he be dead? How come he got to live and John died? Why!

Paul shook his head. "I thought he was," he told her.

"Yeah, well, obviously you were wrong!" She cried, standing. She was no longer crying now; now she was just indignant. "My God, Paul—that man took John from me, and you swore that he was dead, too!"

Why was he alive? Why! Why not John? It's not fair! It was childish and stupid, and she shouldn't be blaming Paul, but she had no one else to blame and there was nothing she could do. Even equipped with a gun and trained she knew she couldn't win against James. She could not fight him no matter how she tried. Paul was the only one who could protect her now and he hadn't. He Didn't. Why? Paul, why? She had no one else to blame. She had no one else to rage against. No one.

"Kate, my best intelligence..." Paul tried to say, but Kate cut him off.

"Your best intelligence wasn't good enough!" Kate came forward and before Paul knew what was happening, she had brought her hand up and slapped him across the face.

For a moment Paul just stood there, shock showing on his face. Had Kate really just slapped him? Well, he supposed that he deserved it. He had failed in protecting Kate. He'd told her he'd keep her safe, made a promise to John's memory to keep Kate safe. And that was another thing—how dare Kate presume that she was the only one who'd lost John. Paul had known John before Kate had; the man had been Paul's best friend. She wasn't the only one who'd lost someone she'd loved. How selfish of her to think that Paul hadn't loved John as much as she had, that he wouldn't miss John as much as she would, that he didn't hurt every day knowing that John was dead.

Kate just stared at him angrily, part of her hating herself for acting so stupid, the other half too angry and scared and hurt to care.

"Uh, am I interrupting something?" came a voice from the doorway. Paul turned; there stood Riley in the doorway. Paul's eye twitched irritably.

Moving quickly away from Kate, Paul pulled Riley aside and briefed him on the situation.

"So there's a spy in our group," Riley said automatically when Paul had finished telling him about how James had shown up. Riley even had an inkling of just who was behind it, but they'd discuss that after they got out of there.

"I'd say so," Paul said grimly.

"So what do we do?" Riley asked. He had an idea, but he liked to hear what Paul had to say. He found Paul's ideas rather interesting. Riley was good with forceful ideas, he'd been sought after for that, even if he didn't look to be capable of such a thing. He preferred peaceable actions if they were possible and Paul was pretty good with being diplomatic, but he was also a man of action and that made things interesting. Nothing like a good adventure.

"Take her to my place, she should be safe there," Paul instructed, and then moved to leave the room. Before he could, though, Riley grabbed his arm to stop him.

"You're not going home?" the younger man asked inquisitively.

Paul paused, glancing briefly at where Riley's hand rested on his arm. "No," he said quietly. "I'm not going home." And with that, Paul was gone, leaving Riley to deal with a clearly upset Kate.

Riley rubbed the back of his neck in thought. Being a man who had dated several women in his short years, he was familiar with a wide range of the emotions of women—that didn't make it any easier to deal with them, and he was just handed a woman in severe emotional turmoil, whatever he did he was sure to get an emotional backhand of some sort. He equated it to cats and misdirected anger. No matter who was the object of the original emotional maelstrom, whoever reached in unbidden was sure to get some sort remark or physical outburst. He didn't want to be on the receiving end, but what was a man to do?

Kate was still glaring angrily at the door. As far as Riley could she she was still wishing elaborate curses after him. He cleared his throat, near afraid to speak, it would be safest to gain her attention first, that would measure down the chance of a blind attack.

Kate's attention whipped over to Riley upon hearing him clear his throat. Her anger diffused somewhat, she'd near forgotten his presence, but she recovered quickly, stiffening. She had absolutely no reason to be angry with Riley, she had called him, but now she was being passed into his hands to be taken to Paul's home.

Not once had she ever thought that Paul would reveal the location of his home, much less let anyone near it or even inside, but despite her wonder at the idea of entering the bat-cave, as she called it, she was not happy at having to re-enter that type of life. Trapped inside a house for lord knows how long. All because James had lived. Why couldn't he just be dead?

"Would you like to pack a bag of clothes and...stuff?" Brilliant, Riley, just brilliant. Stuff? Really, is that all the best you could do? At least he made it a question. If he had told her to get a bag together, she could easily have assumed it was a demand of his and fly off the handle at him. At least that was what Anna did. Kate had appeared far kinder that first time he met her, but in her current mood, he would not underestimate her.

Kate stared at him a second before nodding stiffly. As much as she hated the idea, she knew what had to be done.

Kate swiftly packed, stuffing shirts and pants and underthings into a small suitcase, tossing whatever toiletries she felt she'd need into a smaller bag. She quickly changed back into day clothes, an older pair of pants and a plain white tee.

Quietly the two of them left, topping off her cats' self feeders and waterers and locking both doors. She was sure either Paul or Riley would be back to pick up her cats if her stay looked to be longer than a few days. Not a pleasant idea, by any means. She'd had her fill of staring at the same walls for months and she did not fancy the idea of doing it again, but if it had to be done, then it had to be done.

She seated herself in the passenger side of Riley's Crown Victoria and remained quiet, clinging to the bags on her lap worriedly. She didn't like this feeling, half a year she had spent her life hiding. Even after John's death, Paul had stayed nearby, precaution he'd said, to make sure she was safe. It had only managed to keep her on alert, and sleep too lightly—or, sometimes, not at all. For all that, she still hadn't been safe, and now she was off to hide again.

"He really did check everything." Riley started, his voice calm and reassuring. He didn't want her to flare angrily at him. Kate opened her mouth to speak, but Riley plowed on, the soothing tone remaining, not even rising in pitch. "There was a body besides..." He moved over it quickly, not wanting to be the idiot who brought the thought of her dead boyfriend's body up. Idiot. He thought to himself, but continued on as if the pause hadn't occurred. "...the body that was found, dental records proved it to be James, even the structure of his skeleton and whatever clothes remained, it could all be traced back to James. We checked places we know he's been seen, checked the homes we discovered he'd stayed at, there was no trace left of him, everything pointed to him being dead."

Kate remained quiet, listening to his words. She wanted to shout again, but only out of frustration. He'd been all too good. James. The man knew what he was doing and she didn't see how Paul was going to stop him, but if anyone could, it would be him.

"We underestimated him." Riley said suddenly, his reassuring calm faltering into something that sounded a bit like exasperation. For a moment Kate thought he had forgotten she was there, speaking only to himself, but when he glanced over at her, she was taken aback. He was admitting the fault and looking apologetic. "We should have kept looking. We looked for two months...but that wasn't enough. We'll stop him, somehow I...we will."

She stared at him unblinkingly, even after he'd turned his attention back to the road, wondering why he'd said 'I' first. She settled back into her seat, remaining silent, her thoughts becoming foggy, it was nearly three in the morning. Her anger had dissipated utterly, giving way to her exhaustion. What she could really use now was a bed.