"Damn it," Clint cursed, as he looked up at the ceiling of the abandoned warehouse. He was flat on his back and his whole body was aching. "I think you broke my fucking arm."

"Give me my passport, and I won't hurt you anymore." The voice was coming from somewhere around him, but he couldn't see where she was.

"You know I can't do that, Natasha. I thought we had a deal." Clint lifted his arm and was pleased when he could move it in spite of the pain. There were long scratch marks running along his forearm and his wrist was swelling, but it wasn't as bad as he thought. He managed to sit up and ran his good hand through his hair. "Okay, it might not be broken, but it hurts like hell," he grumbled.

9999999999

The day had gone so well. He disposed of most of his weapons at a drop location outside of his hotel as they left. He wouldn't be able to get them on the train, but SHIELD had a system in place to take care of them. He hated that this left him vulnerable, but it wouldn't be for long.

After a brief stop at a shop down the block to get some more casual clothes for Natasha, they made their way by bus to the train station in St. Petersburg and found a place to get her syrniki, which turned out to be similar to pancakes. Afterward, they boarded the train and found their seats for the three and a half hour ride to Helsinki, Finland.

It was a fairly quiet ride, interrupted only when the conductor came to take their tickets and check their passports. When he was done, Clint took both passports from the man before Natasha could get hers, and put them away in his bag.

"Security," he shrugged when he noticed Natasha watching him with narrowed eyes. Later, she excused herself to go to the bathroom and he moved the passports to the inside pocket of his jacket. He hoped they'd built up a bit of trust at this point, but he wasn't stupid. She was a spy, and from everything he knew about her, she was damn good at what she did. He wasn't going to give her the chance to get away. When she returned, she flipped through a magazine that she picked up in the station and he typed on his Blackberry or pretended to sleep.

Hours passed until finally the scenery outside of their window turned from wild wilderness to urban as they got closer to the city. Natasha put her magazine away and glanced out of the window. "Where will we go when we get to Helsinki?"

"I have to contact a few friends, and we'll have some lunch," he shrugged. "Hopefully it won't be too long."

Once they were off the train, Clint stayed close to her. He knew that she was likely still considering a way to escape, because he would be doing the same thing, calculating the odds of getting away and trying to figure out the best way to make it happen. He still did it in his own head whenever he was in a new situation, and he knew from experience that what she was going through right now was one hell of a new situation.

They found a quiet café where Clint was able to get some truly spectacular coffee as well as lunch for both of them. She sat mostly quiet as he typed furiously into his Blackberry to make arrangements for extraction. He knew that she had to have a lot of questions, but even in a friendly country, she knew better than to ask them in public.

By the time they finished their meal, his Blackberry buzzed with final instructions, and he paid the bill before they headed out to the meet location on the other side of town. It took two Trams, three buses and a two mile walk to make sure they weren't being followed before they finally came to the abandoned warehouse with an open field behind it, where they were to wait for the Quinjet that would pick them up. This wasn't a constantly maintained SHIELD site, so he swept the area, with Natasha in tow, before sending a message acknowledging that it was safe to land.

"Now we wait," Clint shrugged at her as they made their way into the warehouse. He dropped his bag and began poking around at the empty boxes that lined the walls.

"When they come, what will we do?"

"First of all, please hand me the butter knife that you took from the table at lunch." He put his hand out impatiently and waited.

She frowned as she pulled it out of her jacket pocket handed it to him. "You noticed. I'm impressed."

"Yeah, not having any weapons on you will make things go a lot easier. Besides, what are you gonna do with this dull thing anyway?"

"You'd be surprised what I could do with it."

"Probably not," he replied, as he slipped the butter knife in his bag.

"Out of curiosity, if I am attacked, what am I supposed to do with no weapons?"

"You're not supposed to hurt anyone. Besides, I doubt very seriously that you actually need a weapon to defend yourself," he grinned at her. "No one is attacking anyone, though. You just stay behind me. I'll explain everything."

For the first time, he saw something like panic cross her usually calm face. "Explain what? They don't know that I am with you?"

He ran his hand over his face and considered his next words carefully. "Not really. I decided it might be better to catch them off guard and surprise them, rather than tell them, have them get all paranoid and show up with an army."

The only warning he got was loud resigned sigh before her foot crashed into his stomach. His body doubled over involuntarily and he took a knee to the face before she slammed him backward onto the floor. He looked up at her wide eyed and struggled for the breath he needed to speak. "Nat, wait!"

"I didn't avoid being killed in an alley in Russia just to be killed in a warehouse in Finland," she spat out as she grabbed his bag and began rifling through it. "They won't hesitate like you did, Barton. They want me dead. I may hate what I've been doing, but you were right. I don't want to die."

Clint clutched at his stomach and managed to pull himself to a sitting position. He could already taste blood in his mouth. "You're making a huge mistake, Natasha. Just give me a minute."

She glared at him silently before dumping the contents of his bag out on the ground and letting loose a string of curse words in Russian. "Where is my passport?"

He didn't answer her and this time he was ready when she spun around and thrust her foot toward his face. He caught her ankle with his left hand and flipped her over on to the ground. He was on his feet in seconds hovering over her.

"You don't think I'd be stupid enough to leave your passport where you saw me put it, do you? I thought we had an unspoken sort of respect for the skills here." He waved his arm between the two of them. "You're welcome for not breaking your leg."

She was on her feet shockingly fast and rammed her shoulder into his rib cage as she pushed him back hard against the wall, pinning him there with her arm to his throat. For the second time in a few short minutes, he found himself with the wind knocked out of him. "Give me the passport, or I will beat you until you are unconscious and find it myself."

Clint grabbed her arm and although she was strong as hell for a little thing, he managed to pull her away from him. He spun her around and pinned her arm behind her back, making her cry out in pain. "You're not getting the passport, Natasha. We are going to stick to the plan only now we're both going to need a trip to medical."

"Did you tell them you completed your mission?" She was struggling against him, but he just held on tighter.

"I told them that I took care of it. I never said you were dead."

"Maybe I will get lucky and before they kill me, I will get to see them kill you for disobeying an order." Her foot came up and kicked him hard on his upper inner thigh. He groaned loudly as he let her go and she spun around to face him, hands up, ready to strike again.

"Seriously? A few more inches to the right and I would have to tell ..." he stopped and scowled at her. "Just have a little respect for future generations of Barton's, please."

Natasha laughed in spite of herself. "I hope they do not talk as much as the current generation." Once again she swung her fist toward his face and he was just a split second too slow to stop it from making contact with his lip. Blood oozed into his mouth, but he hit back at her, making contact with her own face, her lip bloodied now as well.

"So SHIELD teaches you to hit women, do they?" She moved out of his reach and wiped at the blood on her face.

"When that woman happens to be kicking my ass? Hell yes, they do!"

"Good. I hate to be underestimated." She lunged at him once again. Their arms locked as they pushed at each other, both trying to get the upper hand. Natasha let go to swing at him, and he blocked it with his own hand, before he aimed a kick to her knee that she easily blocked. They went back and forth grabbing, pushing and hitting, as he slowly moved her back toward a stack of boxes. If he hit her just right, he could send her flying into the boxes and possibly hurt her enough to end this, but he really didn't want to take that shot.

"So are we planning to do this for much longer?" he asked, as he blocked yet another kick from her.

"What? Are you getting tired?"

"No. I'm not tired. I'm just thinking about what's going to happen when SHIELD gets here," he shrugged before swinging his arm toward her once again. She grabbed it and used her momentum to flip him around, sending a sharp pain through his wrist and arm, and him falling to the floor. As he fell, he managed to kick her hard in the stomach, sending her flying back out of his sight.

9999999999

Clint made it over to the wall and collapsed against it, still examining his arm. When she appeared standing over him, he looked up at her and held up one finger. "Give me just a minute to rest and we can resume kicking each other's asses if you want."

Sliding down the wall beside him, she looked every bit as exhausted as he felt. Blood was trickling from her mouth as well as a cut above her eye that would probably need stitches. He could see patches of deep blue forming along her arms. She held out her hand. "Passport," she replied weakly.

He reached into his jacket pocket with his good hand and pulled it out. "Here ya go," he shrugged, as her hand closed triumphantly over the little black booklet. "It won't do you any good, though. I had it flagged the minute we were off the train. You try to use that anywhere and you can enjoy the hospitality of the Finnish police until SHIELD sends someone else to deal with you."

"Мудак," she grumbled.

"Now, that word I did learn as a kid," Clint pointed at her and chuckled. "I may be an asshole, but I'm not stupid. Now the question is, are you?"

Natasha sighed and threw the useless passport into the pile of clothes from his bag that she dumped out earlier. "You still want to bring me in after all of this?"

"Yes. Actually I do, even more than before. I'm impressed. You can hang with me in a fight, and I like to think that I am pretty tough."

She reached over and grabbed his hurt arm carefully. "Not so tough," she mused, as he whined loudly when she moved his arm in different directions to inspect it. "I don't think it's broken. You'll live."

"I usually do."

"What makes you think I won't just wait for another time to try and kill you?" She began investigating her own bruises and cuts.

"Because there was a butter knife sitting right there in that bag and you never went for it, even when you had the chance. Tough as you might be, you weren't fighting to kill."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Now you believe I could use the butter knife as a weapon?"

"Oh, I always believed it, never doubted it for a minute. I'm not dumb enough to underestimate a well-trained Russian spy."

"But you're dumb enough to try to recruit one."

"Apparently," he grinned. "Jet should be here any minute. Let's get this stuff picked up and get ready." He scooted over to the pile and began shoving things back in his bag. "When they get here, you let me do the talking, okay?"

Natasha nodded in agreement. "Will they handcuff me?"

"They won't touch you. I'm going to try to convince them not to cuff you, but if they insist, I'll do it and I will stay with you. Look, if you try shit like this again, though, I won't be able to stop what happens. Do you understand?"

"Yes. But if I'm attacked…."

He cocked his head to the side and gave her a bloody grin. "They'll have to go through me first."