Hey all. It's been a while hasn't it? This is another short chapter but it's leading to some more exciting content that hopefully I'll Geoff a little sooner than I have been lately. Thanks for sticking around and, as always, read and review.

There was black. And a throbbing pain emanating from her head. Light swam in her vision unfocused and bright. Too bright. Then more black.

She fought the unconsciousness as hard as she could despite the overwhelming desire to pass out and sleep for hours.

It didn't work.

She collapsed and let her eyes slam shut against the harsh light.

Clint registered movement near him. Or was it he who had moved? He wasn't sure but he knew he was conscious again. Mostly. He opened his eyes attempting to take in his surroundings.

A hotel room. His hotel room? He knew it was but he wasn't sure how he knew. He didn't remember checking in. He turned his head (a big mistake) and saw Natasha draped against him, using him as a pillow. Her head was tucked into his shoulder and her arm was draped across his chest.

"Natasha," he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again though he didn't speak any more clearly than before. He mumbled quietly before tapping her back to wake her up. "Natasha. Hey. Wake up."

"No," She mumbled quietly but firmly into his shoulder (though she didn't realize it was his shoulder) and buried her head into him. "I don't want to."

"Hnmgh," Clint grumbled. He didn't want to be awake either but it was too late for that. He tapped her again.

"Get off me." She said with as much anger as she could muster.

Clint blinked the sleep out of his eyes and looked down again. "I think you need to reconsider that plan of action. At least open your eyes." Natasha sighed and looked around slowly. After a moment she shot up in surprise.

"Ouch," she hissed under her breath, clutching her head and fighting the desire to lie back down. "What-" she leaned forward enough to pull the curtains closed so she could think more clearly. "Is this our room? What's going on?"

Clint sat up painfully and tried to figure something out. He grunted incoherently and stumbled across the room to the bathroom where he gulped down water and aspirin. While he was gone Natasha glanced around her to gather clues. There was an open letter lying on the table across the room.

"Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Collins. We, the staff of the Fairstreet Hotel, would like to welcome you to Paris! We have been informed that you will be staying with us while your apartment is being renovated. We would like to thank you for your business and offer you two complementary dinner at our restaurant. Please feel free to let us know if there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable."

A sloppy signature was scrawled at the bottom. Natasha looked around the room and didn't see anything else to explain their evening until she glanced in the mirror. She was wearing a black cocktail dress and her hair had been curled. Suddenly memories started flooding in. She and Clint had arrived late afternoon and were told to report to the hotel. They found some clothes in the closet and the letter on the table.

"Clint," Natasha called. "I think I know what happened last night."