Sins of our past

[Looking for Barton]

Prologue

"Clint? Clint! Ohmy—." Castle bit off the rest of his words and dropped to his knees. Clint lay in a pale, bloody mess in front of him. His blue eyes were wide and his mouth was gasping.

Castle reached forward and pressed his hands onto Clint's stomach, where a gaping wound oozed blood. Slick blood squeezed through his fingers, covering the back of Castle's hands.

"Son of a bitch!" Clint suddenly bit out and then groaned from the pain.

"C-Clint?" Castle whispered, his voice shaking. "What…happened to you?"

"I was shot." Clint said in a voice that seemed too calm for the situation. "Is he still here?" Clint asked attempting to get up.

"Clint, no!" Castle snapped, shoving his brother back down. "Stay still. We need to get you help."

"Help?" Clint snorted, though his face had gone two shades paler. "I've had worse paper cuts."

"Sure you have." Castle said. Keeping one hand pressed against Clint's wound; he dug his other hand into his pocket, grabbing his phone. Castle quickly dialed and pressed the phone against his ear.

"I think I got him." Clint mumbled, his eyes beginning to glaze. "You distracted both of us, but I think I got him."

Castle gave Clint a worried look, pressing a little harder on the wound. Blood oozed between his fingers, and soaked into Clint's jacket.

"I must have got him." Clint said his voice growing fainter. "I never miss."

[Two weeks Earlier]

"Mr. Castle?"

Castle glanced over his shoulder. A mild looking man stared back at him.

"Yes? You want me to sign a book for you? I would be happy to!" Castle pulled a sharpie out of his pocket.

"No, thank you." The mild man said. He paused. "Actually I would love to have you sign one of my numerous copies of your books, but sadly that's not why I'm here."

Castle slowly put his sharpie away, glancing around the Starbucks.

"Who are you?" He demanded suddenly suspicious.

The mild man reached out for Castle's arm, guiding him to one of the small tables in the corner of the shop.

"My name isn't important."

"It is to me!" Castle interjected, sitting down heavily on a chair.

The man took the chair opposite Castle. He placed a cup of coffee on the table and slid it to Castle.

"Here. It's just the way you like it."

Castle frowned, but picked up the cup and slowly took a sip. His eyes widened.

"It's perfect. How did you know?"

The man smiled. "It's my job."

"Which is?" Castle prompted.

"Again, that doesn't matter. I'm here for one thing."

"Which is?" Castle said again.

"To tell you to back off."

Castle frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sorry." The man said, his face not giving the impression of being very sorry. "Let me be clearer: You've been searching for your brother, Clint Rodgers or Barton as some might know him now, for the past year. Stop."

"You want me to stop?" Castle said, narrowing his eyes at the man.

"That's correct. I understand that he's your brother and you probably want to talk to him, but he's not in the position to talk to you or to even keep in contact with any of his past family. You have to understand that you're putting him in a rather awkward position with all your inquires."

"Wait," Castle said, raising a hand. "You…know Clint?"

"Yes." The man said, flashing Castle a smile. "I've had the pleasure of working with him on several occasions."

For once, Castle didn't know what to say. And the man didn't give him a chance.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Castle." He stood up, buttoning his suit coat. "Sorry for the bad news, but you have to understand that you need to leave Barton alone...It's the best course for everyone." He turned to leave, but paused and turned back. "Also, I'm a big fan of your books. I can't wait for the next one."

With that the man disappeared out Starbucks's front door.

Castle sat at the table, staring at the door, his mouth hanging slightly ajar. He blinked and shook his head.

"If you thought that little request was going to make me stop, think again." Castle muttered as he dug his phone out of his pocket.

"Hey, Frank. I've got another man for you to look into…"

"Clint." There was a rap on his door, causing Clint to groan and roll over in his bed. "Clint." The voice came again. "You have to get up."

"Go away." Clint mumbled and buried his head deeper into his pillows.

"No." The door opened and soon someone was prodding Clint's foot with a hand. "You were told to get up at eight. It's eight and you're not up."

"What are you, my mother?" Clint groaned keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm not twelve, you know."

"It's hard to tell sometimes." Came the dry reply. "Get up."

"What?" Clint finally snapped as he cracked one eye open and looked up into the face of his current handler, Agent Cole.

"Fury wants to talk to you. He told you 8:30, so move your ass." Cole said firmly, giving Clint a hard look before backing out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Clint groaned again, letting his head drop back onto his pillow.

"Agent Barton."

"Sir." Clint replied his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"That's right." Fury gestured toward a chair, taking his seat behind his desk. "Please."

"Thank you, sir." Clint said, sitting.

Fury laced his fingers together, placing them on his desk. For a moment, neither of the men said a word, and then Fury sighed and leaned back against his chair.

"We've been having a slight problem with your brother."

"My brother?" Clint asked, "Rick? What's he been doing?" There was an unspoken "now" in his sentence.

"He's been trying to find you for the past year. However, his men aren't anywhere close to finding you, obviously, but it's getting…annoying every time I hear your name mentioned to me by one of my men. I even sent a good agent to talk to him. That, if anything, only made Mr. Castle more eager to find you."

Clint crossed his arms over his chest. "And what do you want me to do about this?"

Fury raised an eyebrow, "You'll do whatever I damn well tell you to do, agent."

Clint resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. And what is it that you would like me to do?"

"I want you to talk to him."

Clint blinked. "What?"

"You heard me, Agent Barton. You're leaving for New York City earlier than planned and talking to your brother. Get him to stop trying to pry into my business. I don't like nosy people."

Fury stood up, effectively ending the conversation. "You're dismissed, Barton."

Clint stood. "Yes, sir."

A/N: Hey guys! I'm baacck!

So, I don't know how many people are still expecting/waiting for sequel to my Nighthawks story, but here it is! It took me a long time to decide that I actually wanted to write another and then it took me even longer to think about what I wanted to write about.

I literally just started this story, so I only have one and a half chapters written and I vaguely know what I want to do, I just need to talk it through with my sister or someone.

The other thing is that I'm pretty busy with school, so I can't promise that chapters will be posted very quickly, but I will do my best.