AN: Uh, nothing to say really. There's french spoken and you might be confused but it doesn't really matter because I want you to know what Clint is feeling. Translations are at the bottom if you want to know. I believe that's all. Enjoy!

Dear Loki,

I am as real as you, Asgardian. It took many months for your kind to be accepted, correct? Even then there is a large amount of skepticism. I am much the same.

I receive all letters addressed to me, even if they are never sent through the various postal systems.

I am not sure if I should deliver coal or not to that robot 'Dum-E'. Perhaps giving him a new extinguisher is in order. You were correct in saying that Anthony's idea was not the best.

Best Wishes,

North

December 16th...

Grumbling, the archer stomped through the crowds. Because of the whole partridge thing he didn't get a chance to buy anything for anyone. He had Steve's gift in mind. But he knew Tony's would be hard. What do you get the man who could buy anything he wanted himself? Clint gazed into the window, looking at the displays. Shaking his head he continued. (No way Natasha would appreciate that. Would she?)

Then the world exploded. Glass rained down from above him. He grabbed a kid that wandered too far from his parents and spun him away. The glass of the display he'd been looking at exploded outward not seconds after.

Clint ignored the cuts and ran inside (jumped through the broken window) and looked for anyone who was trapped. Other customers ran out, jostling each other and Clint. Crying children held tightly in adults arms. (Though Clint saw a kid no older than twelve holding a screaming two year old.)

Then he heard it. A lilted 'No!'. It was panicked and female. He quickly followed it to a woman trapped under a chunk of the wall. Clint tried lifting it enough for her to slip through but it was far too heavy. He was just glad that a mangled clothes rack was supporting some of the weight. Panicking for half a second when a flame grew slightly Clint took a breath. The woman was babbling now and Clint wasn't entirely sure it was English. He grabbed a mini arrow (No, not a dart. Tony and Clint argued against Steve and Bruce.) and loaded it into the mini crossbow mounted on his wrist. (He was never without weapons. The crossbow unfolded from it's framework. He just wished he had grabbed his collapsible bow but he had nowhere to keep his arrows.) He shot at the concrete that was crushing the woman and fired. It was able to dig itself deep enough and Clint grabbed the zip line. The archer threw it over a semi stable looking rafter. Ignoring the sting of the cuts as sweat dripped into them he pulled on the cord, his leather gloves providing protection from the cutting edge. The concrete barely moved but he heard the woman sigh in relief so it must've done something good.

Clint knew he wouldn't be able to pull anymore so he waited for the firemen to come. It took longer than he would've liked (but it was still pretty quick), more men came to help pull the cord. It was enough that one was able to pull the woman out. A quick countdown and everyone let go of the line.

"Sir, get out. There's too much smoke." (And, yeah, that was totally reasonable but he was stubborn.)

Clint opened his mouth to argue but a coughing fit interrupted him. When he was done he waved off the offered help and staggered outside where various emergency vehicle were parked outside. Paramedics whisked him off and placed an oxygen mask over his face and treated the cuts on his face and the few on his wrists. After being cleared (he had been staying low. He had to put all his weight into keeping the concrete up so he didn't breathe in too much smoke.) he gave his statement to an officer and continued on his way.

"Attendez!" A voice called out. Clint ignored it. It was probably a family calling to some one who was trapped. A lilted calling of, "Hawkeye!" had him stopping. He turned around to see a woman with brown hair done in a braid over her right shoulder, and hazel eyes jogging towards him.

"Hello?" Clint greeted.

"Bonjour." She smiled and Clint was confused on why she was speaking French. "Je m'appelle Marie. Vous êtes Hawkeye?" He just continued to stare at her. Her tone made Clint believe that the second sentence was a question. Basically the only thing he got was that her name was Marie and she knew him as Hawkeye.

"Uh, hi?" He greeted again. (Because how was he supposed to respond? He may be a spy and know a bunch of different languages but French was not one of them.)

She rolled her eyes fondly. "Merci pour aide ma soeur." She stuck out a hand. Hawkeye took it in his and shook it. Only understanding that she was thanking him for something. (He only knew a few words. Such as hello (bonjour), please (s'il vous plait) and thank you (merci))

"Sure?" She must have been ignoring his confused tone. She got a phone call and Clint was going to excuse himself but she held up a finger. Marie spoke on the phone, her expression becoming increasingly agitated the longer it went on. She pressed the end call button a little too hard (considering a touch screen didn't need much pressure at all) and shoved it into her pocket. She looked frustrated as she tugged at the end of her braid. She looked back at Clint before grabbing his wrist and tugging him along.

"Woah! Wait, lady where are you taking me?"

"Ma poule!" She shouted instead.

"What?!" Confusion drowning out irritation.

"Ma poule est disparu!" (Like that cleared anything up.)

"Disparu?" He parroted. "Disappeared?" He asked. She didn't respond and continued tugging him back to the ruined building. "Listen lady-" He tried getting his arm back but it resulted in her yelling.

"Ma poule!" Her yell was almost hysterical.

"Okay, okay!" He yelled back. Several people turned to look at them before turning away. "Geez." He said under his breath.

She jogged up to a paramedic, still pulling Clint along. "Alice?" She asked urgently.

"Last name." He asked. She only stared expectantly at him. Frustration washed over her face.

"Alice Becotte?" Her accent clear.

"Oh, um, hold on." He looked through a paper on a clip board.

"She was taken to St. Vincent's." He answered. Before Marie could talk again Clint interrupted.

"The one on 11th and seventh Ave?" He asked for clarity.

The paramedic nodded and he took Marie away. He had no idea what she had been yelling but apparently some one close to her had been in the building when it exploded and had been injured enough to be taken to the hospital.

After a quiet and tense cab ride they entered the hospital. She rushed to the front desk and danced impatiently in line. Clint just followed her. Marie finally stepped up.

"Alice Becotte? Je m'appelle Marie Becotte."

"Sorry?" The woman had a British accent (and Clint wondered how many people were here from Europe.)

"She's looking for an Alice Becotte." (And here he took a stab in the dark.) "This is her sister Marie."

"Who are you?" She asked. (Not many people from abroad recognized his face.)

He toyed briefly with telling her his real name but decided not to. (Marie already referred to him as Hawkeye anyway.)

"Hawkeye. I helped Marie here." The receptionist's eyes went wide before she typed into the computer. "Ah yes, just out of surgery. Room 317. You can go right up." Clint herded Marie into the elevator and resigned himself to the fact that he wouldn't get any shopping done.

Marie had a tight grip on his hand and she tugged him out of the elevator but stopped dead. She looked around then at Clint.

"Room 317." He muttered to himself and quickly found the room.

A woman lay on the bed. Her hair was a darker brown than Marie's and it was loose around her head.

"Alice!" Marie exclaimed and rushed to the woman's side. Clint hovered in the doorway.

The woman, Alice, was awake and speaking rapid French to Marie. "Oú est Éric?" Alice asked after a pause.

"Il recherche pour la poule." Marie answers. (And Clint really wants to know what 'poule' means.)

"Ah." Alice says. "Hawkeye? Il aide?" Both women look thoughtful and dread curls in his stomach. (Just what did let himself be dragged into?)

A devilish smile is on Marie's face. "Oui." She says something else and then is dragging Clint back out the door.

For the next four hours he is dragged all across Manhattan. They meet up with another guy. (Clint thinks his name is Éric. He couldn't really tell through all of the fast French talk.)

His phone rings and he answers it right away. "I have never been so glad to hear from you Tony."

There's a pause, "Yeah, okay, sure. Cap's wondering if you'll be back for dinner. We're going to order take out. We haven't decided yet."

"Uh, I have no idea." Clint answers as he glances at the two French people.

"What do you mean?"

"I got dragged along by a crazy person." He explained.

"Well tell them you need to get back home. If you were waiting for an excuse, here's one."

"It's not that easy. They don't speak English." Marie once again grabbed his arm and dragged him to Central Park (His legs were going to fall off at this point.) "And they're dragging me along and if I try to leave, the woman won't stop screaming."

"What language do they speak?" Tony asked.

"It's French. I think, that or Italian."

Tony sighed at the same time the woman squealed in delight. (At least he thinks it's delight.) She picks up...a chicken?

"I speak both of those. Why didn't you call sooner? You didn't even think of Nat? Who speaks, like, a million languages?" Marie was smiling down at the chicken and speaking to either it or Éric. Clint face palmed (both for his stupidity and the fact that they had been searching for four hours for a chicken.)

"Just please talk to her and if you could, get her to explain why we spent hours looking for a chicken."

He thrusted the phone at the woman, only barely hearing Tony's confused 'Chicken, wha-' before Marie took it. She looked at the caller ID before bringing it to her ear.

"M. Stark?" She asked. (Clint heard a faint 'Oui' before he decided he didn't care anymore.) Éric and Clint stood awkwardly together as Tony and Marie talked.

He was broken out of his thought. "Hawkeye?"

"Hm? Oh." He took his phone back. "So?" He asked Tony.

"I'd really like to know how you got dragged along on this and why she sounded so grateful. Anyway, I'll tell you when you get back. You're free of the hen search team." And didn't he just sound amused.

"Thank you! Next time I get kidnapped by French people I'm calling you."

"De rien. Au revoir!" Tony responded and Clint was ready to throw his phone into the street. He instead ended the call and roughly shoved his phone into his pocket. Rubbing his eyes he sighed heavily. He looked up to Marie.

"Bye." He waved, hoping she'd understand. (Clint wouldn't put it pass Tony to tell Marie to keep him for another day. Rent a Super Hero! Oh, he could just see Tony's smirk.)

"Au revoir. Merci!" She and Éric waved and he was finally home free.

He climbed into a cab. And, wow, did his feet hurt.

He made it back in time for dinner. (They had ordered without him but luckily Natasha knew what he liked from the Chinese restaurant.) He recounted his tale while they ate (when she was done Natasha took pity on him and massaged his feet).

"You've got to be kidding me." Tony said from his place on the couch leaning on Bruce.

"What?" Bruce asked his (finally) boyfriend.

"Don't you see it?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "There was that partridge in a pear tree."

Realization was dawning on everyone's faces.

"Two turtle doves." Bruce continued.

"But today? I get the French but there was only one hen." Clint said.

"Hen can be slang for woman. You said there was Marie and her sister, Alice? Thus three French hens." Tony answered.

"Are you serious?!" Clint threw his hands up.

"Wait. So we're living out the 'Twelve Days of Christmas'?" Steve asked.

"Appears that way." Natasha said. "This started on the fourteenth, right? Two days ago?"

"Yeah so the last day will be Christmas day." Tony said.

"At least we'll know what'll be next." Steve pointed out.

"Vaguely." Clint snorted. "If we knew about this then today we would've been on the look out for birds. Not humans."

"That's true." Bruce tipped his mug in his direction slightly.

"So what's next?" Natasha asked. (She hadn't gown up with the carols.)

"Four calling birds." Steve answered.

"Let's just sleep and not worry about it. So far nothing has caused serious injury." Clint suggested.

"Wait, how is this happening? The partridge and turtle doves shouldn't be here in New York." Bruce said. There was silence.

Tony groaned loudly. "Magic. How else is it possible for a pear tree to be providing fruit in winter?"

"Loki?" Natasha asked. Her grip on his foot becoming painful. (Not like it didn't hurt anyway.)

"Probably." Steve said.

Tony groaned again before standing up. "I'm going to bed. I'm going to be well rested if I have to deal with Loki." He grabbed Bruce and left.

Slowly everyone drifted off to bed. No one was prepared for tomorrow...

With Loki...

Nicholas,

You may have a point but I refuse to believe you. You could be a human who is trying to mess with me. I suppose I could continue to tell you about the days.

Day three was easy. Make sure the translator was...disposed of, set off the explosion and setting that hen loose in Central Park. It was child's play really.

They've caught on. No matter, they won't be able to stop me.

Horrid Holidays,

Loki

AN: Et fin! Anyway, please help me with the french. It's a combination of me still learning french over the past two years and Google translate. (The unreliable little bugger. Can't conjugate verbs or do past tense.)

There's no reference in this one.

I have Clint's gift to Steve already picked out. Everyone else is still fair game.

Eh, translations if you want them:

Atendez!- Wait!

Bonjour- Hello

Je m'appelle Marie. Vous êtes Hawkeye?- My name is Marie. You are Hawkeye?

Merci pour aide ma soeur.- Thank you for helping my sister.

Ma poule!- My chicken! (In Google translate it also means hen so...)

Ma poule est disparu!- My chicken/hen is gone!

Oú est Éric?- Where is Eric?

Il recherche pour la poule.- He is looking/searching for the chicken/hen.

Ah. Hawkeye? Il aide?- Ah. Hawkeye? He'll help? (I'm certain I messed up this one.)

Oui.- Yes

M. Stark- M. is Mister in french. (Totally forgot how to spell it. heh)

De rien. Au revoir!- You're welcome/It's nothing. Good bye!

Au revoir. Merci!- Good bye. Thank You!

And I think that was all of them. Again if you know french better than me then please let me know so I can correct it. :)

They finally caught on! They still won't be ready for what's to come...hehehehehehehe.

I think that's it! Review please!

~Dawnmoon