A/N: YUP, I'm back! A few hours later than I'd hoped for but oh well… Before getting to the actual business, though…

THANK YOU, a million times, for the AWESOME reviews! You're sooooooo good at making my already immense Clint-whump grow still. Poor Hawk…! (chuckles) We'll have plenty of tales ahead of us and I really hope that you'll enjoy them as much as I adore typing them.

Awkay, because the clock once again isn't a friend… Let's go! I really hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

MENTIONS OF CLINTXLAURA AND TONYXPEPPER.

The Tale of Werehawk, part 3 of 3 (AoU fix it)

The rest of the team wasn't pleased when they found out about Clint's decision. Natasha simply vanished for an hour. She came back with bloodied knuckles. Wanda and Pietro had a very, very loud argument. Anyone with eyes could see how badly Bruce was fuming. It was a small miracle that Big Green remained contained. In the end Dr. Strange led the scientist to a small room at a further edge of the building. When they returned Bruce's eyes were aware but slightly hazy. There was a needle mark on the man's arm. None of the others commented.

"You hide it well, I'll give you that." The approaching steps were slow but not hesitant. "'Can't say that I'd blame you. So do I."

Slowly Steve turned his head to look at Tony. He gritted his teeth before trusting himself to talk. "I'm not angry", he argued. "I would've probably done the same thing in his shoes."

Tony eyebrow arched. "Oh, really?" The billionaire went on without giving him a chance for further protests. "You're the leader of this impossible, insane group. And probably the most righteous guy who's ever walked this planet. Sometimes it makes me want to punch you in the face. But you're also the second angriest man I've ever met. The only difference is that you don't turn into a green giant when it gets too much." Seeing that the words hit home the inventor turned to leave. "Blow off some steam. Destroy a punching bag or two. Maybe then you can be the Captain America Clint and we all could sort of use right now." With that as his closing line Tony left, hoping dearly that the subtle change he'd seen in Steve's eyes was for the better rather than for the worse.

About twenty seconds after Tony's departure Steve looked down. His eyes widened. The metal railing he'd been squeezing had come close to bending under his brutal hold.

Steve destroyed five punching bags before he was ready to go back to the others.

Oliver Trask had been working for Hydra for a very long time. Along with many other employers. He was favored because he was both skilled and discreet. He always got the job done without asking any unnecessary questions. His latest assignment ended up being his hardest one yet. And his last.

Clint Barton was a tough man to track down. Especially when the archer obviously noticed that he was being tailed almost immediately. For five days they played cat and mouse, dancing infuriatingly close before Oliver lost track once more.

The famous Hawkeye wasn't called the world's mightiest marksman for nothing.

On day six Oliver's target finally got sick of the game. He was going through a small forest area, all senses sharp and his instincts ready to spot absolutely anything. Well, almost.

There were no arrows. Or even bullets. Only a low, dangerous growl, that of a threatened wild animal. And a flash of deadly sharp fangs. And then, a breath later, Oliver was down, those teeth sinking right at his jugular. Tearing him to pieces. The last thing he saw of this world was a pair of eyes that looked human and anything but all at once.

At a Hydra base a phone rang. The news were grim. "Trask failed."

A bottle of very expensive alcohol flew at a wall. It took several moments before there was a growled response. "Then send in a team. Bring that… freak down, whatever it takes."

"You know as well as I do the number of dead trial subjects we've had. The changes are going to kill him soon, anyway. Why don't we just sit back and let nature take its natural course?"

There was a loud scoff. "Haven't you read his file? You've seen everything Hawkeye has lived through. Would you really make the mistake of underestimating him by leaving it to a chance?"

While Hydra was becoming desperate a team formed by Buce, Tony and Stephen Strange was more determined than ever before. Because finally they'd taken steps forward. Finally there was hope.

They stared at the gold-yellow liquid with slightly widened, disbelief filled eyes. "So…" Tony swallowed loudly. "What do you guys think? Is that going to work?"

"Maybe", Bruce murmured. "If his change hasn't advanced too far. But… That isn't our only problem."

Stephen began to explain so Bruce wouldn't have to say it. He kept his eyes firmly on the substance they'd spent quite a while developing. "Clint's body has gone through a lot lately. The changes thus far have been dramatic." He sighed heavily. "There's no telling if he'll be able to handle the reverse." All this hard work… So many people waiting for Clint to come back… And this could all still have a bleak ending.

Tony and Bruce exchanged a look. Both of them scared out of their minds and furiously determined all at once. Neither with the slightest intention of giving up. "Call the others", Tony decided at last. "Tell them that it's time to bring in the Werehawk."

Clint could feel that he was changing. So far only his teeth showed to the outside world but he could quite literally feel his insides twisting and moulding. Practically tearing to pieces.

Clint whimpered and sunk to the ground, leaning himself heavily against a tree. The taste of blood filled his mouth, that of his own and someone else's. Knowing what he'd done with all too much clarity hurt far worse than anything that was happening to his body.

He was turning into a monster and there was no telling how much longer he'd be able to hold himself back.

His thoughts weren't his own anymore. They were full of blood thirst and hunger for a hunt. He'd killed, brutally and in cold blood, and without a shadow of a doubt he'd do it again if he wasn't stopped.

And as though things hadn't been bad enough already he sensed ten new people tracking him down. He stiffened and sniffed the air half subconsciously. He couldn't recognize these people. But they were carrying guns. One of them already had a small wound. The scent affected him in a way that made him want to throw up. A part of him felt tempted to just let them find him and get this over with, end this torment. But he'd never been a quitter. And soon enough his actions wouldn't be in his own hands, anyway. Yet again.

A few tears rolled down Clint's cheeks and he unleashed a whimper that sounded far from human. 'Wanda?' he called out with as much force as he could muster. He could only hope that she was listening. 'Just… Don't worry. I know you guys are coming.' Maybe… Maybe something good would come out of this loss of control. He'd felt them trying to locate him for days, now. Once the monster inside him would be satisfied there'd be nothing left to threaten the people he was quite willing to call family. He'd lose himself but at least his team wouldn't be lost.

That thought was Clint only comfort as he saw red and the control broke.

The rest of the Avengers had been sticking as close to Clint as they dared to. Determined to make sure that he was as safe as possible yet respecting his wish for a safe distance. They stayed close but away, no matter how hard it was when they knew how badly Clint was suffering. Hurting one of them would've ached him a million times more.

Finally Bruce's long awaited phone call came. "I think we've got it. Bring him here." Those simple words were enough to fuel the worried, frustrated and tense group with brand new energy.

It took them almost a full day more to actually find their escaped Hawk. They weren't sure what they planned on finding as they rushed towards the spot to which Wanda eventually located Clint. Or which one of the options scared them the most. None of them was prepared for what they ended up facing.

There was blood. A lot of it. They feared the worst until their eyes found Clint. Their very own archer who still somehow managed to look like himself despite the blood staining him, the fangs and the gleam in his eyes that was nothing human.

And there was a horribly battered, barely recognizeable body at Clint's feet, very obviously dead.

"I know that guy", Pietro whispered, as though hoping that the Hawk wouldn't hear it. The kid's eyes were widened, even if he somehow managed to keep his expression otherwise even. "He… worked for Hydra."

Clearly they sent the guy to clear up the mess. Well, nice try. Too bad that it only ended up causing far more mess…

All other thoughts faded away, for all of them, when Clint finally looked their way. It was impossible to tell how much he actually saw, really. There was a barely human, chilling haze in his eyes as they sized them up, a low growl enforcing the message his whole demeanor was sending forcibly.

Not… a… step… closer.

Natasha opened her mouth but Wanda was faster. The younger woman's legs seemed to shake a little while she approached, attempting to make herself appear as harmless as possible. "Clint, I know you're in there. I can still feel you. So… listen to me, will you?" She swallowed loudly while Clint stopped growling, nonetheless moving further from her. "We need to go back, now. For the cure. So that you can have a future. You need to go back with us."

Yes, Clint was very obviously still there. Because all of a sudden his eyes filled with an immense amount of despair. It didn't take any amount of mind reading skills to figure out exactly what he was begging.

Feeling oddly safe although she shouldn't have Wanda took a one more daring step closer. "We'll help you", she swore, hoping from the bottom of her heart that the promise would hold. "I know you're scared, and exhausted. Just go to sleep."

It was a mighty staring match, during which they all tensed up, Pietro most of all. Prepared themselves to intervene. And then Clint made his move. They watched with a great deal of disbelief how the Hawk cast a one more, threatening glare towards Wanda. One that suggested strongly against all suspicious deeds. Their friend turned into a beast then lay down and curled up, exactly like a wild animal would, and closed his eyes. In a matter of seconds Clint was fast asleep on the cold ground. Looking disturbingly innocent despite the blood staining almost all of him.

"What… happened?" Thor inquired. Understandably confused. None of them had the slightest clue what was going on. "Did you use your powers?"

Wanda stared at Clint. Her heart hammered madly in her chest and adrenaline rushed through her veins. Still, for a reason she couldn't explain, she felt warmth swelling in the pit of her stomach. "No, I didn't."

Tony's eyes widened at the sight that greeted him when the worn, obviously agitated group returned. Several of them had scratches and bruises. The injury on Pietro's cheek looked like it might need stitches. Clint, who was carried almost carefully by Thor, was heavily unconscious and covered in blood. But as far as Tony could tell a nasty looking gash on his forehead was the archer's only wound.

"We had a good start", Natasha explained, deep worry and frustration sharpening her tone. "But then he got hostile. Steve had to take him down."

Tony looked at the Captain. Just a glimpse at Steve's eyes revealed that whatever happened it wasn't pleasant. There was a sea of guilt and self hatred. Was this the first time the Captain had to attack someone from his own troupes?

They didn't have the time for more talking, though. As quickly as they could they rushed to the room where Bruce and Stephen were waiting. The two men appeared shocked by the archer's appearance for a second before professionalism took over. It hurt all of them that Clint had to be restrained by heavy metal chains but they also knew that it was the only way. So, with heavy hearts, they let it happen. Allowed him to be hooked on all sorts of wires and machines. They all saw how tightly Wanda was holding Clint's hand but none of them had the heart to point it out.

They were startled when all of a sudden, just as Bruce was preparing the injection, Clint's eyes opened halfway. At first the archer frowned blearily, obviously not quite understanding what was happening. Then it seemed to sink in. Genuine panic flashed in Clint's eyes.

Stunning them all Natasha ran a gentle hand through the Hawk's hair. "It's alright", she promised. "We've got the cure. That's why we came to get you. It'll all be over soon."

Hope, such none of them had ever seen before, flooded into Clint's eyes. Brightened them. "Home?"

"Yeah", Bruce swore. "You'll get to go home soon." He hoped, from the bottom of his racing heart, that he'd be able to keep that promise.

Clint smiled. Although there was suddenly a knowing look in his eyes. It reminded Bruce eerily of a twelve-year-old patient he lost in India. That little girl had known that she was dying. And as her last words she murmured the exact same ones Clint did, barely audibly. "It'll be okay."

Bruce's mouth opened but in the end nothing came out. His chest feeling a thousand times tighter than before he forced himself to look away from his friend's face. Then, slowly and with unsteady hands, he pushed the needle through Clint's pale skin. The horrible responsibility pressing a ton's weight on his shoulders and Clint's ominous whisper echoing in his ears as the loudest thing he'd ever heard.

/ "It'll be okay." /

Somewhere in a deep, pitch black sea of darkness Clint Barton was still present. Those moments were mere flashes, whispers, echoes. He felt someone's hands, which would've made him fight intensely if he wasn't so very exhausted. More touches, which made his body shiver as a response. Or had he been trembling before?

"Clint?"

"… fever is incredibly high …"

"… the cure …"

"… no telling if he can …"

"Clint, listen to me…!"

"… blood pressure's starting to drop …"

"Clint, you need to fight this, you need to come back!"

The succeeded in confusing Clint. Come back? But… Where had he gone? Those people… Why couldn't he remember their names…?

"… sure that this is going to work? …"

"CLINT!"

Too loud. Too painful. Too much.

Clint could actually feel his own heartbeat. The precious organ felt like it'd been attempting to crawl out of him with how furiously it was hammering. And it hurt, almost more than anything that he'd ever experienced. He would've screamed if he'd had enough breath for such.

A breath… Breathing… He… couldn't…

Clint gasped desperately, futilely. His whole body arching and convulsing from the effort. And then everything exploded to a blinding, white light. The pain ended.

The team could only stare. A grim, hopelessly heavy silence lingered in the room while they all waited for something that'd quite clearly never happen. Waited for a yet another miracle.

It was incredible how quiet a room that contained so many people could be. Almost amusing. It would've been if the heart monitor keeping an eye on Clint hadn't been silent as well.

Blood was dripping from his mouth, a sign of his fangs disappearing. Aside some new, rather deep wounds those had been his only physical changes. Or perhaps not really. He appeared unhealthily pale and visibly thinner than he was at the beginning of the whole mess. There was also a rather chilling, peaceful look on his face. As though he'd simply decided to take a little nap.

And all of a sudden there was a surge of activity when Bruce and Stephen threw all they had into attempts at bringing the archer back. A full minute passed by. Then two. Eventually five. Clint showed absolutely no signs of coming back to them.

A tear, just one, rolled down Wanda's cheek while her hold on the Hawk's limp hand tightened. Her mind reached out desperately, searching through the dark that his head had slipped into. She couldn't find him. Wasn't able to reach the soothing, vibrant presence that she identified as Clint Barton. Her lips parted and she would've wanted to scream, so badly that it hurt, but just didn't have the breath.

Eventually it was Stephen who made the move. From the covers of his clothing he took a vial that held jade green liquid. With a look of steel hard determination he prepared an injection, then plunged it directly to Clint's vein.

"What the hell did you just give him?" Tony snarled, taking a protective step closer to Clint.

"Calm down." Stephen sounded calm but also firm. "I'd imagine that hardly anything could make the current situation worse."

Natasha's suspiciously moist eyes flashed dangerously. She might've done something she would've regretted later if something unexpected hadn't occurred right there. Because exactly eight seconds later Clint's heart monitor beeped once, then again, slowly yet steadily settling to a relatively normal rhythm.

It took several long seconds before they realized properly what was happening. Until they finally dared to believe it.

Wanda gasped when she eventually sensed Clint's mind again. He still felt rather far away but the sensation still made her smile without her noticing it. "He's back", she announced, paying no mind to how her voice broke.

Pietro grinned. It was impossible to tell if the shimmering of his eyes was caused by tears or the room's light. "Old man's too stubborn to go down like that."

Steve didn't seem relaxed at all. All of a sudden the man looked nearly as old as he technically was. "How is he?" the Captain demanded, watching how Bruce and Stephan kept working on Clint.

Stephen sighed heavily, watching the unconscious Hawk's face for a moment before focusing on the man's vitals. As a medical man he knew that Clint's body was without oxygen for a rather long while. Only time would tell how much damage it did. Or if the archer would even wake up at all. But he couldn't voice that to the group that'd already been through so much. "Let's just take this one hour at a time", he suggested gently. "Right now we need to focus on making sure that his condition remains stable."

Five hours later Natasha sat in the room, holding Clint's hand so tightly that it would've hurt if the man was conscious. "I just called Laura. You know, for an update", she announced, barely able to recognize her own voice. "I… didn't tell her everything. Couldn't. She isn't very happy with you. And neither am I."

Clint didn't respond, of course. Couldn't have with the tube stuffed down his throat even if he wasn't so far gone. It felt wrong to see him so silent and still.

In the covers of the shadows Natasha wiped her eyes. A little moisture coated the back of her hand. "I'm expecting you to wake up soon, do you understand? You were the one who convinced me into this fucking life, led me to these people. What the hell am I supposed to do if you just dump me here?"

Clint slept on, aided by a ventilator, happily oblivious to the world around him and the drama he succeeded in creating.

Sitting on the rooftop of the building Steve was so deep in thought that even someone of Thor's size succeeded in sneaking up on him. He shivered with startle when the Thunder God spoke. "May I ask what you're doing up here?"

Steve smiled almost sheepishly, looking back to the landscape spreading down below. "I'm keeping watch", he admitted. "I highly doubt that Hydra would attempt to come after Clint with all of us here. But I'd much rather take no chances." Things had already gone this badly wrong. Would it have been otherwise if he'd done something differently? If he'd been a better leader? He was fully aware that one day those questions might drive him insane but he couldn't help himself.

It was the burden of being the leader of a group that took missions the kind the Avengers faced constantly.

Thor watched him for a few moments with unreadable eyes. Seeming to see and understand far more than he could've ever expected. Then, without saying a word, the Asgardian stepped forth and sat beside him.

Steve frowned. "Thor? What are you doing?"

"Keeping watch."

Another week passed by without any note worthy change in Clint. On day five Stephen was forced to leave but demanded that they'd contact him if they'd need any help at all. Whatever he injected Clint with and what it'd cause they might never know. The team was growing sick and tired of waiting. Of not knowing whether they'd get to keep their archer, after all. Or if the Clint who'd return would be the one they came so very close to losing.

Bruce couldn't remember the last time he would've slept properly. He'd tried but every time he closed his eyes the memory of Clint's lifeless body filled his mind. As it was he kept going with caffeine and the sheer power of determination.

It was a very early morning when Bruce checked Clint's I.V. bag, then proceeded to mark down the man's vitals. That was when he noticed something. Clint… was struggling. At first he prepared himself for the worst. When the realization finally dawned it made Bruce's eyes widen. "Clint? Are you… fighting the breathing tube?"

Yes, obviously. Clint was attempting to breathe on his own very hard and stubbornly. And Bruce was more than happy to give his friend that chance. Gently, gently, he removed the tube, switching it to a nasal cannula. The entire time he monitored Clint's oxygen levels carefully. They remained strong. The archer's breathing looked and sounded right, if not a little raspy from the days spent relying on a machine. Bruce wasn't able to chase away the grin that took over his face while he grabbed Clint's hand without even noticing it.

If he wasn't so focused on the machinery Bruce might've noticed how Clint squeezed back, weakly but determinedly.

The whole gang celebrated the massive leap forward with take-away food. All of them crammed into the small room. Watching over their Hawk as the man slept on.

A couple of days later Tony was taking his turn in keeping an eye on Clint. Although he wasn't doing a particularly good job at it. Was it any wonder that he fell asleep with all the restless nights he'd been through lately?

At first Tony thought that the strange, irritating poking was a part of his dream. Although he couldn't understand how that could be a part of a dream in which he and Pepper were… intimate. He groaned and almost slipped deeper into the slumber until the voice, horribly raspy and lighter than a whisper, reached his ears.

"… head's… 'ing heavy… 'can't breath… and… don't like… that moaning…"

Tony's eyes flew open and he lifted his head far faster than would've been sensible. True enough Clint's eyes were open, only slightly and far more hazy than usual but still. They held a dry look. "Nice dream?" the archer rasped.

For a second, two, Tony stared. Then a wide, sunshine bright grin took over his entire face. "Good morning, Pigeon", he greeted.

Clint rolled his eyes. The man was unable to disguise a grin of his own. "It will be… as soon as you take your morning wood away from me."

A few days later Clint was finally declared fit to travel back home. The team was more than happy to leave the horrific place and the shadow of Hydra behind them. But Wanda wanted to, needed to, do something first.

Carefully as a thief she approached where their remaining unwilling guest was locked up. The beast snarled immediately at the sight of her. Grief pierced her heart. "Marco, I… I'm so sorry that we couldn't help you. That they did… this to you." Tears flooded into her eyes while she pressed her hands against the glass separating them. His furious, inhuman snarls shattered her heart. "But… Maybe I can do this one last thing for you."

Her mind mind full of apologies Wanda closed her eyes and focused, with all her might. Reached out towards the creature's wild, protesting mind. Nudging gently, encouragingly.

Sleep, she urged.

The creature stiffened, still on guard, unable to comprehend.

Sleep.

Slowly but steadily the mind that'd been weakened by years upon years of being lost began to bend under her will. With a one more groan the beast slumped to the floor. Firmly cocooned by a deep sleep. One that'd last until his already horribly tormented body would finally give out.

That was when Pietro walked in. "There you are. We're getting ready to…" Her brother trailed off at the sight he faced. "What… did you do?"

Wanda gulped loudly. It didn't erase the lump in her throat. "I… I know that it's horrible. And cruel. But I just… I couldn't… I had to do something because that… that wasn't living."

Pietro watched the sleeping creature, clearly deep in thought. Shocked but no appalled. "He's never going to wake up, is he?"

Wanda nodded her confirmation. The boy they once knew as Marco would never wake up again, would never feel the fear, agony and despair that'd been his life for such a long time. And that Marco… They lost him years ago. The kindest thing she could do was to make sure that what became of him wouldn't suffer anymore. That he'd rest in peace.

Gently Pietro wrapped his arms around her. Sealed her into a hug that revealed he once again understood. No words were needed.

There, for the first time in forever, the twins allowed themselves to feel real, genuine grief over the life they'd been tricked into by Hydra, and cried silently.

Over the seven weeks that followed it became apparent that Clint wasn't left unscratched by his horrific experience. Physical side was one thing. Emotional was another altogether.

Nightmares were a very, very common experience. Several members of the team woke up to the screams Clint emitted in the dead of countless nights, shaken to the core by the memories of what he did, of how the bloodthirst took over him. It also seemed that he'd become vegetarian. Tony made the mistake of cooking stakes for them, once. The smell of meat sent Clint running to the nearest toilet where the man threw up loudly, tears shining in his eyes. It seemed that the archer couldn't eat much of anything, really. None of them liked how much weight the Hawk was losing. They also hated how he seemed to be shutting them all out. Gone were his witty, sarcastic comments. It was like the man they were left with had lost his soul to the beast that attempted to take over him entirely. Whatever there was going in his head he didn't share it with any of them.

The most painful part, perhaps, was how Clint kept distance to Laura and their children, including his newborn son. He called them, certainly, several times a day. But he refused to go back to them, insisting that there was no way he'd take that risk until he could be sure that he was himself once more. Clint didn't trust himself with his wife and children. Or with his team, for the matter. That he wouldn't attend to missions with them was understandable and they were forced to admit that even advisable, considering his mental state. He also refused to attend to sparring sessions and slept with his door firmly bolted.

Just like for a very long time after Loki Clint was deadly afraid that he'd lose control all over again, this time with even more horrifying results.

But Clint wasn't giving up, of course he wasn't. He made it through Loki and he was determined to survive this, too. Or well, that was what the others and Clint all kept telling themselves.

Clint didn't know how long he'd been sitting on the couch, staring at the TV without really knowing what was on. Eventually Wanda flopped down beside him and darted a disbelieving, far from impressed look at the screen. "'Teletubbies'? Seriously?"

Clint shrugged. He almost managed to grin. "I was sort of hoping that it'd help me sleep."

"When, exactly, did you drag yourself here?"

Clint shrugged. He honestly wasn't sure. "At… two in the morning, I guess. Or four. Why?"

Wanda's eyes betrayed worry. "Because by now it's four in the afternoon. And you look ready to pass out any given moment."

Well, that was news. Clint blinked sluggishly. "Oh?" Very intellectual…

Wanda met his eyes and looked at him very seriously. "I want to try something to help you calm down. But… I need you to trust me, alright? This isn't going to be easy, I know. But try to trust me."

It took longer than it should've before Clint caught up. His heart forgot a beat. "You want to look into my head." It was far from a simple matter for him.

Which Wanda knew, better than well. Which was why she gave him a look she hoped to be reassuring. She wasn't good at being reassuring with anyone but Pietro. "Let me help you", she requested softly. "I won't pry. I won't change a thing. I'll just try to help."

For a long, frozen moment Clint stared at her. Then gave the biggest sign of trust he could've ever offered anyone. He nodded, barely visibly but still. Appearing somewhat desperate, horribly scared and trusting all at once.

Gently, gently Wanda lifted her hands and placed them on both sides of Clint's head. She gave him a few seconds to change his mind. Then closed her eyes and entered.

So many flashes… So many emotions… So much heart that it took her breath away. When she finally finished her search and opened her eyes it took a moment before she understood why they were blurry. "See?" she murmured. "You're no monster."

Clint smiled, feebly but still. A single tear meandered down his cheek. "Thank you."

When Pietro peered into the room fifteen minutes later he couldn't help but smile. Clint was finally fast asleep, slumbering peacefully. And for the first time in ages Wanda was sleeping calmly as well, her head fallen to rest against Clint's shoulder.

After thinking about it for a moment Pietro took his phone and snatched a picture of the precious sight. Then, soundlessly and stunningly slowly, he wandered towards the kitchen. Perhaps he'd manage to make those two new vegetarians some dinner before they'd wake up.

Pietro's steps were light as he went and only common sense kept him from whistling. Because even if seeing the future wasn't his gift he knew something for certain. This nightmare was finally over.

End of story.

A/N: D'awww! (grins) It would've been nice to know what Dr. Stranger's injection was. (Must've been quite something if he waited until that moment to use it…) BUT, at least it brought our Hawk back and we got a happyish ending. With quite a bit of Clint/twins bonding.

Soooooooo… Any good, at all? Trash material? The comment box didn't get enough Christmas goodies and it's hungry.

Awkay, I've really gotta start heading towards my bed soon. Until next time – which will be as soon as tomorrow, since it's a loosely Christmas themed tale! How does that sound? I really hope that I'll see you all there!

Take care!

Guest (1): HOORAY! (high fives) Join the club. (grins)

I'm insanely happy that you've enjoyed the tales thus far so much! I REALLY hope that you'll keep enjoying the ride. And that you had awesome holidays, too.

Colossal thank yous for the review!

Guest 13: I know, right? :( Let's hope that he'll be okay. I'm THRIIIIILLED that you enjoyed it!

I really hope that you had happy holidays, too!

Massive thank yous for the review!

Guest (2): It's SUPER exciting to hear that you're so eager to read on! (BEAMS) I really hope that what comes meets your expectations.

I really hope that you had happy holidays, too!

Enormous thank yous for the review!

PrincessApplePie: I'm excited to hear tha you think so! (grins) We'll see just what comes next… Hopefully the last bit AND the Christmas special turn out worthy of your expectations! (LOL, that word always makes me think of Thor, now.)

I really hope that you have a fantastic Christmas, too!

Monumental thank yous for the review!