The detachment of S.H.I.E.L.D agents surveyed their surroundings, watching for threats, as Clint Barton knew they would. From his nest his keen eyesight picked out every detail. Red pole was helped down from the prisoner transport. The enforcer was in manacles, his mask off, remaining hair wild around his distorted face. S.H.I.E.L.D's agents milled around their prisoner as the Triad was escorted towards the military airfield in an attempt to deny the archer a clear shot.

Hawkeye did not know if Natasha had spoken to Coulson. She would never betray him, of that he was certain but, she believed his conscience would suffer if he executed Red pole for his own satisfaction rather than a sanctioned hit. It was tantamount to cold blooded murder in her eyes. The Black Widow had been in that position, she called it the red in her ledger, and if she could protect him from making the same mistake, he knew she would try.

At the moment Barton couldn't see any distinction. He was solely focused on the fact that the enforcer was going to die and he was the one who was going to do it. He raised the rifle to shoulder height, the sights directly focused on his target. The crosshairs sighted on the Triad's temple as he walked towards the terminal building. There was no way he could miss. He felt his finger start to squeeze the trigger.

The Black Widow stepped into shot. Fortunately Barton's reflexes were razor sharp and he aborted. She was scanning the rooftops and Clint knew what she was looking for. There was no way anyone could spot the master assassin from the ground, but looking through the sight, it seemed as though the Russian Agent was staring straight at him.

'Don't do it Barton.' Natasha had said again. It was rare that Clint didn't heed her advice. The Black Widow was one of the few who could reason with him on those occasions when self doubt or his temper got the better of him. This time her words fell on deaf ears.

They had arrived at the hospital. Clint screeched the jeep to a halt as the Widow helped Foster out of the vehicle. Slumped between them, the girl was taken straight to the emergency room.

In fluent Hungarian, Natasha was able to explain away the girl's injuries as a consequence of the recent troubles. Foster would spend a few days in the Budapest facility, under the watchful eye of a field S.H.I.E.L.D agent at all times, before eventually taking a medical transport home.

Hawkeye could feel the frustration rising as he watched the shadow of a human that used to be Agent Hannah Foster. He bunched his fists in an effort to control his rage.

The first on site agent had arrived to take his watch and the two assassins were relieved of duty.

They drove towards the airfield in an uncomfortable silence. At the main entrance Clint stopped the vehicle. As Natasha got out, he threw his kit and weapons into the back of the jeep. Natasha watched emotionlessly.

He took a step forward, trying to find the words to make her understand. Red pole had brought this fight to him. The enforcer had tried to infect him with chemical weapons and when that failed had decided to threaten him and everything he loved. Hadn't he hurt Natasha? Foster had done nothing more than accidentally been in the way. That was her crime. For that she was currently sitting in a hospital bed so traumatized that she didn't even really know who she was. He had to pay... Red pole had to pay... She had to understand that. Would she do any less?

But the words wouldn't come.

Natasha's blue eyes scanned his face. They were filled with mixture of pleading and disappointment. Her disapproval only made him angrier.

If only he could explain.

With a final slow shake of her head, Natasha lifted her kit bag onto her shoulder, turned, and strode away.

Get out of here Tash!' Clint yelled for the second time since she had arrived unannounced at his newly acquired hotel room. He threw the nearly full vodka bottle in her direction. She caught it nimbly, barely spilling a drop before calmly taking a swig and standing it on the nearby dresser.

Her partner overturned a chair and swept the top of an occasional table clear before also up-ending it. Natasha Romanoff folded her arms and waited patiently. As the small portable television was smashed into the wall to her right, she simply leant to the side a little to avoid the shrapnel.

In the hotel corridor, Yuri, the bellboy leant closer to the door to listen just as Clint launched a lamp across the room which crashed into the other side. The boy jumped back.

'I mean it Romanoff. Get the hell away from me!'

It was bad enough, Yuri thought, that war seemed to have broken out in the city, without this lunatic coming to their doorstep. The bell boy hopped from foot to foot in uncertainty, not daring to knock on the door and face the devil within. What about the red haired woman? She had simply pushed him aside as he'd tried to stop her entering the room where the madman was breaking everything. That was when the yelling started. What to do, what to do... finally with his face full of concern at the imagined carnage within, the boy ran to find the hotel manager.

'I am toxic... anyone who comes near me is in danger... I should have stayed well away. She was a sweet kid; she didn't deserve to get mixed up in this. You were right... weakness...' Clint rubbed his hands over his face.

'There was nothing you could have done differently.' Natasha said softly. 'You made the right call today.'

'Is that what you know?' He spat back. 'It was all about me... she was a target because of me.'

'She was not a target because of you, you were the target.'

'I'm always going to be a damned target!' He stormed.

Crossing the room Natasha placed her hands firmly on his biceps. When he finally looked at her she was shocked to see the haunted shadow behind his eyes. 'Listen to me. You cannot do this to yourself.'

'What?'

'Red pole is a hundred shades of crazy.' She said gently. 'Also not your fault.'

'But you were wrong; I should have put a bullet through him.' Clint snorted. 'Then perhaps I wouldn't feel so damn... helpless.'

'It would have been quick for him, an easy end... For you it would have taken a lot longer to redeem.'

'She probably won't ever recover you know.' He said grimly.

'You can't punish yourself, you saved her life.'

'Who is supposed to punish me if not myself? It's still one more innocent life gone because of me. It would probably have been better if she'd died.' He tried to push her away but she held fast.

'She knew the risks.' Natasha kept her tone calm, forcing her partner to look at her. 'It was not your fault.'

Clint searched her face for answers. She slid her hands down his arms until their fingers entwined. Pulling him towards her, she placed his arms around her waist; her own she wound around his neck her lips finding his hungrily.

'Natasha...' He said quietly as they broke contact. She responded with another kiss, more insistent. Parting his lips her tongue explored his, her fingers playing with the nape of his neck, pulling him closer until she felt him relaxing against her body.

'Affection is a weakness, you taught me that.' He whispered as her lips left his to place butterfly kisses along his jaw.

She stopped and arched an eyebrow. 'Who said anything about being affectionate?'

As the long suffering manager wearily climbed the last flight stairs in the wake of his over excited bell boy he thought for the fiftieth time that day that Budapest was going to hell. Explosions, gunshots, power outage, and now one of his guests had apparently gone insane. He would have called the police had they not all been tied up dealing with the threats to the city. As it was he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to do when he got there, he just knew at the moment he felt very, very tired.

There was indeed a lot of noise coming from the room but he quickly deduced that no-one was in any immediate danger. If he was any judge the screams and groans were more of pleasure than real pain, plus the occasional crash and associated noises indicated an interruption at this point would be less than discreet and extremely unwelcome.

Yuri the bell boy pointed unnecessarily to the hotel door, a worried look on his face. The manager shook his head and smiled. 'When you are older, if that is the way you end all your fights with a woman you will be a very lucky man.' He said kindly, ruffling the boy's hair before ushering him back down the stairs.