A/N: It's been WAY TOO LONG. (winces) BUT, now we're here. AT LAST! (BEAMS) We'll see if that's a good thing or not…

FIRST, though… THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for your reviews and support! They mean more to me than you could ever imagine. (HUGS)

Okay, because I've already kept you waiting TOO LONG… Let's go! I REALLY HOPE that this turns out worth the wait.

TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of drug-use and self-harm.


Chapter 9 of 10 – Blood Brothers


/ Will recovered, at least as far as his adoptive parents knew. Because while they didn't exactly provide him with a good, loving home he didn't have anyone else. So he put on a show for them and his newest shrink, succeeded in tricking them all into believing that he was sober and happy. Or maybe they did see through his act but didn't care. By some miracle he still managed to get perfect grades from school. Nothing about his appearance aside lost weight indicated that something was still wrong, and he'd always been a scrawny kid so no one noticed. No one noticed him, period. Not as long as he didn't get into a trouble, not as long as he did what was expected of him.

In a world of people who all played their roles with Oscar-worthy talent, he was the greatest pretender of all – he was the only one who managed to make himself invisible.

The problem with Will's act was that there was no way he could stay in his role for all eternity. Not with how badly he was hurting. Not with the amount of poison, figurative and literal, coursing through his veins.

Will kept teetering on a very dangerous edge of losing it on himself or others. His line was finally crossed on one rainy night, when he walked into his room to find his adoptive father holding a diary. His diary. The only thing to which he'd ever confessed…

He'd seen disgust on a lot of faces throughout his young life. But never the kind of resentment he faced then, from a man who was supposed to be his father. The man held up the notebook in a manner most would handle garbage. "Are you completely delusional? Or so wrapped into the web of lies you've built that you're even trying to lie to yourself?"

Will shuddered. For a second so completely and utterly baffled that he didn't know how to react. Then he scoffed. "Really? If I…" He gritted his teeth. "You still think I'm lying? After all these years? You think I do the things I do, just because I want to make your life miserable? Or ruin your career?" He didn't want to reveal what was about to crawl out of his mouth. But there was no stopping the flood when years upon years of a damn came crashing down. "My mom was so mentally unstable that I almost died because of it! My own brother doesn't want anything to do with me anymore! And when… when I'm given to other people to raise…" Something moist traveled down his cheeks and he was trembling so badly that he could barely stand. He was still high, but coming down too fast. "You were supposed to keep me safe! You were supposed to care about me, or at least pretend that you did!"

His adoptive father snorted. "Care about you? When you've been nothing but a disappointment from the start?" The man sighed tiredly. "Despite all your lies, despite all those disappointments… We've tried to provide you with all the things you need, haven't we?"

"I needed you to believe in me." Will was feeling exhausted, too. Completely and utterly drained. "What that woman did to me…"

His adoptive father dropped the diary unceremoniously and struck him, right at the face. It wasn't the first time, but for some reason this one hurt the most. "Agatha was a valuable colleague and a good friend. Don't you dare tarnish her memory with lies! I'm sick of hearing them."

"And I'm sick of her! I'm sick of never getting rid of her!" Will gestured heatedly towards the diary that lay on the floor. "You read that. Does it look like she's just a memory to me?" His voice was getting hysterical and his heart was beating at an unhealthy rhythm but he didn't even notice. "I've been systematically destroying myself because I've been trying to forget! Because I've been trying to be the son you want me to be!" His limit had been crossed. With trembling hands, too high and overwhelmed to feel the shame he should've, he peeled up his sleeves to reveal the scar-littered skin above both his wrist-areas. "Are these a lie, too?" It was as good as screaming 'PLEASE, HELP ME! PLEASE, LISTEN TO ME!' at the top of his lungs.

His adoptive father stared, the disgust in his eyes deepening still. Then raised a hand to strike him again. It was more than Will could handle, emotionally and physically.

Will had very vague memories of what came next. Through red haze he watched his own fist rising and striking down, once, twice… He had no idea how many times, in the end. Certainly enough to shatter a nose and a cheek-bone. Then he grabbed his adoptive father's arm, pulled and twisted until the man was howling. He didn't stop even when there was a cracking sound. He didn't know when he would've stopped, years upon years of pain finally flowing out.

Until there was a child screaming. Sheer terror coloring her voice. "Stop it! You're killing him! Please stop!" The daughter his adoptive parents had… She was too young to understand. To her, her parents were great heroes. Looking at himself through her eyes, Will saw a monster.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the bathroom floor, legs pressed against his chest and arms wrapped tightly around them. His hands and clothes had bloodstains. And he was still shaking, badly. He was crying, too, but had no idea about that. He felt cold, and his chest hurt. No matter how badly he wanted to run away, escape, he didn't have enough strength.

There was chaos behind the room's locked door. Then silence. Will waited for someone to come and try to take him away, but no one did. He fell asleep or lost consciousness, then woke up. Several times over. Eventually he threw up, until there was nothing in his stomach. After that he slept some more. When he woke up his head hurt almost as badly as his hands and chest-area. His legs were dangerously wobbly as he struggled to his feet, then began to stumble out of the room.

The whole house bathed in morning-light. Following noise coming from a TV, Will stumbled to the living room. The first thing he saw what looked suspiciously lot like the remnants of his diary in a fireplace. His adoptive mother was drinking coffee, her face pale but just as perfect as always. It was like nothing had ever happened. She looked at anything else to avoid even glancing towards him. "Your father will return from the hospital today. I'm sure that you're pleased to hear that he's been recovering well from his accident." She took a sip of coffee, and for a second, just one, the look in her eyes… "You should get dressed. And pack up. Your ride arrives in two hours."

Will blinked once. That revelation shouldn't have hurt, but it did. "My ride?"

"Yes." Two sips passed by. "Your father and I talked. Considering your recent… struggles, we're both sure that you'll be much happier as a student of another school. One with far more strict rules. What we found is quite far, but should suit your needs perfectly."

Kicking him out would've been a scandal his adoptive parents didn't want. But this, sending him away… It was far subtler. Solved all their problems.

Will could've begged. He definitely should've apologized. But he was too numb for any of that. So he turned and left the room, without making a sound or looking back, and headed to pack his belongings. /


/ Clint didn't stay at the circus for long after his miserable birthday. It was supposed to be a place of safety, somewhere he could belong. He was furious at himself for such misjudgment, even more than he blamed Jacques. And he wasn't planning on repeating that mistake.

Which didn't mean that he would've chosen the most sensible path. Such that he could've been proud of. He had his moral code, but he also had no other choice but to do what he had to in order to survive. Including things that weren't strictly speaking legal.

This occasion… was a little more satisfying than most. The man who operated with Jacques to rob the circus had been doing business with the wrong people. Which tends to get one into a trouble.

Clint and a team of three others was supposed to rob back some money. That was all. Of course it wasn't quite so simple.

The mansion was heavily guarded, which they hadn't been notified of in beforehand. Clint's trained skills and natural talent helped him far. In fact, he almost dared to take a sigh of relief. Until a bullet came flying. It grazed his side, took his breath away. A second shot missed his head far too narrowly. He barely had the time to realize what was happening until the attacker was charging at him. He could only react instinctively.

Clint had barely spun around before his knife was already flying. By the time he'd turned fully towards the attacker the weapon had already reached its target. The other man froze. Then slumped, like a ragdoll without its strings. The little light streaming through a window hit the attacker's face. The unfolding sight made Clint heart stop and shatter in his chest. "Barney…?"

Through his ear comm the one accomplice he had left standing announced that he was leaving, without or without him. Clint knew, very well, that he should've also been rushing. And he was. Towards Barney.

There was so much blood that it made him feel sick to his stomach. Its stench made the whole thing even more revolting. Clint did what little he could to staunch the bleeding, but rather quickly he ran out of hands.

Barney was gasping, an unfocused pair of eyes fluttering closed and open. In Clint's mind the faces of the two brothers he'd had kept switching back and forth. Like they were both dying right in front of his eyes.

He wasn't a good enough brother for Will. And now… Now…

Barney coughed, blood bubbling to the young man's lips. Clint swallowed thickly, panic speeding sharply through him. "Barney, don't…!" He couldn't bring himself to voice the rest, no matter how hard he tried.

Barney's gaze shifted, just a little. Focused, even if only for a moment. For four seconds that felt endless their eyes locked and held. The older one's filling with such shock and betrayal that it felt worse than the knife.

In the middle of the emotional turmoil Clint barely felt the sensation of poking. He shuddered, glancing towards the direction. Ice filled his veins when he realized that Barney was holding a gun against his stomach. The hand attempted to lift the firearm higher, aim it at his heart, but couldn't manage it. Or maybe his adoptive brother changed his mind.

Then, all of a sudden, Barney fingers uncurled and the gun fell with a deafeningly loud clatter. The young man's hand fell and eyes rolled barely closing. It was over.

"Hawkeye." The voice, rather than from his ear comm, came from right behind him. His last remaining accomplice, who happened to be Buck Chisholm, didn't sound pleased or patient. "I got what we came from. It's time to wrap up. Are you coming with me? Or not? This is your final chance to prove that you're a team player."

Clint felt torn apart. But he also knew that there was only one decision he could make. He shook his head desperately, realizing that he couldn't feel his brother's heartbeat anymore.

The jolt of pain was sudden and shocking. Made him shudder. He didn't have to look to know that there was an arrow sticking from his shoulder. "Don't expect me to be waiting for you", Buck advised through his teeth. "In fact… Do us both a favor, and don't ever come anywhere near me if you somehow make it out of this." With that his mentor, who'd taught him almost everything he knew about archery and fighting, who gave up a lot for him, walked away from him. For the last time.

Clint wanted to call out to Buck. And Barney. Beg his brother to wake up, to fight, to let him explain. But he still didn't have enough breath. And soon new gunshots were raining down on him. One bullet slammed into his flesh. Helpless to do anything for his brother and in no condition to fight, Clint ran, his eyes growing blurry from more than just pain and blood loss.

Buck never did wait for him, which he barely even registered. Clint staggered to his newest hideout, a barely still standing house that was mostly occupied by junkies. It was a horrible place but he had nowhere else to go. No one asked a thing or even noticed that he was bleeding. There, on a filthy mattress, the teenager tended to his own wounds although he was barely conscious. Even though he barely knew how to make stitches. He passed out from agony with a few tears running down his cheeks.

Clint succeeded in getting an infection that quite nearly killed him. For days fever ravished his body. He barely made it through the trip to a pharmacy to steal antibiotics to save his life. Yet somehow, as day six dawned after the third end of his world, he was still alive. For the first time in his life Clint wondered if it would've been better to not be. /


Clint's heart thumped painfully as he stared at the slightly older man who should've been dead. Who died right in front of his eyes. Or didn't.

Barney's eyes were unreadable. Unfamiliar. "So many years… and there you finally are." The man shook his head, as though trying to clear it. "Do you have any idea how exhausting it's been to hate someone for so long? How much energy I've wasted on imagining what I'll do when I finally find you?"

Clint swallowed, feeling dizzy and out of breath. "I thought…" He had no idea what to say. How to explain, now that he finally got the chance. In the end the words bubbled easily, without him registering them actively. "Barney, I'm sorry. For everything." And he was. Sorrier than any words could ever explain.

He had two brothers and he failed them both, in different ways but just as spectacularly.

Barney nodded, appearing wounded and bitter. "Oh yeah, I can imagine. Do you…" The older man's jaw clenched. "You just… left me there."

Clint sighed heavily. "I had no other choice." He tensed up when the other took a step closer. "I though, for years… that I killed you. That I…"

"Just cut it with the crap, will you?" Barney's eyes flashed. "We were supposed to be brothers. And you left me to die." The man tilted his head. "For a very long time I wasn't sure how to repay you. Until I discovered that you have a twin-brother. Who happened to land himself into a hospital. I saw the look on your face when you sat outside the hospital with that little guy. Benji, isn't he? And then… Then I knew just what to do." With that as the only warning the man made a swift move towards Will's unconscious form.


Will wasn't quite sure if he was unconscious, dead or going out of his mind. He felt like he was floating. For the first time in… he didn't even know how long there was no pain. Just weightlessness. It felt amazing.

Until he felt something calling out to him. A voice he hadn't heard in so long that he'd nearly forgotten how it sounded. "Wake up, William." And then she was right there in front of him.

Will swallowed. "Mom?" Was this… real? Was he…?

She smiled and brushed his cheek with cold fingers. "I've missed you, too, sweetheart. But right now you need to go back. To your brother."

His heart plummeted and he looked down, ashamed.

"It's alright, sweetheart. You've both made a lot of mistakes. You've stumbled, you've been lost. And I'm so sorry that I wasn't strong enough to be there to help you." She placed two fingers under his chin to make him look at her. "I'm gone. But the story of you two isn't over yet."

Will wished that he would've been able to believe her. Until he came to the conclusion that it didn't matter if he believed or not. He was already prepared to fight harder than he ever had in his life.

"Mom…"

"I know", she assured him. He could've sworn that he felt a kiss before she went on. "I love you, too. Both of you. And I'm very proud of how you turned up. Now hurry."

Gone was the comfort. Gone was the painlessness and warmth. Will sucked in an agonizing, greedy gulp of frosty air. Then dove through the unknown, back towards the surface. And hoped that he wasn't too late already.


Clint didn't freeze from panic. Nor did he hesitate. He grabbed Barney's wrist and squeezed furiously, fighting for both his brothers at the same time.

Barney… The boy he once knew couldn't have fallen this low, couldn't have turned into this. And it was his job to keep Will safe. Even if his twin chose to walk away from him, no matter how many long years passed by with the two of them…

"Don't…"

The thought, or the sentence, was never finished. Clint had absolutely no way of seeing the knife coming. Not until it pierced his skin and sunk right in, making itself home. It was the exact same spot where his knife hit Barney once, he realized with delay.

Clint didn't even realize properly what happened until Barney was already guiding him down. Gently, with a menacing look on his face. "Honestly? I thought I'd butcher him. But this…" The knife was twisted, which caused an inferno of agony. "… is far more poetic. Almost Shakespearean." The older man leaned closer until their noses nearly touched. "Now… we're even." It was blatantly obvious that Barney didn't stick around to make sure he'd die on purpose. The man walked away without looking back. And left some final words to echo behind him. "I should've killed you back then, but I was too much of a coward. Too soft. I see that you're still just as pathetic." The door closed.

The whole time Clint's hand was wrapped around a concealed knife. He'd been holding it since grabbing his adoptive brother's wrist with the other hand. He could've easily used it against Barney. But he didn't. Couldn't bring himself to. Not on purpose, not against someone he still considered a brother. Not when he still remembered the lost little boy whose parents he stole.

Clint coughed painfully, tasting blood, and mused with macabre amusement that this was where mercy got him.

His eyes were already closed. He was fast on is way under. Until the machinery monitoring Will began to wail shrilly. And he realized that he couldn't afford to be done fighting just yet.


Waking up took a ridiculous amount of effort. Far too much. But Will had more motivation than ever in his life, so his eyes fluttered open.

Will's newly fixed up heart thumped in a manner he instantly recognized as unhealthy. But it didn't matter that he was barely conscious and in pain. His brother needed him.

Shifting awkwardly and uncomfortably, he discovered that Barney wasn't in the room anymore. He couldn't see his twin, either. His lips opened, but before he managed to utter a sound the unmistakable stench of blood slapped him across the face.

No, no, no…!

Defying physical limitations and every inch of his pain-tolerance, Will dragged himself to the bed's edge and peered down. The first thing he saw was a large, constantly growing pool of blood. Then Clint in the middle of it. Face ashen, obviously in a shock and barely conscious.

Will needed no further coaxing. Machinery began to wail as he tore off the wires attached to him. Good. Maybe it'd make some medical professionals rush for aid. He gritted his teeth, then stumbled up to find himself crash-landing to his brother's side. Using every little bit of strength he had, he pressed down, doing his best to ignore the way Clint whimpered a protest.

"Okay…", he breathed, focusing firmly on his twin's hooded, barely open eyes. "… gonna be okay …" So hang in there!

He shivered at the sensation of touch. Looking down, he found Clint's hand pressed on top of his own. They were both trembling from agony and exhaustion, neither was quite conscious and blood made their hands slick. Some red stained Will's hospital gown as well from where stitches had been pulled. But they were also both hanging on, for each other, with all they had.

It wasn't until they heard medical professionals right outside the room's door Clint's eyes fluttered closed. Will's strength ran out almost simultaneously, sending him slumping to his twin's side. Their bloodied hands never once broke contact.

While the hospital staff started a war to keep them both alive, the twins had the same dream.


/ Once more small children, stay stood on the edge of a cliff and looked down towards the angry waves crashing against stone. The water was pitch-black but neither felt frightened. They held each other's hands more tightly, braced themselves.

"Ready?" Clint inquired.

"Ready", Will echoed without hesitation.

They jumped together and disappeared into the thundering water. /


TBC


A/N: OOOOOH BOY…! Poor Clint! He just couldn't hurt Barney again. Is it going to cost him his life? And what about Will? Are they going to be okay?

AND, MOST IMPORTANTLY… Was this chapter worth the wait? At all? PLEASE, do let me know! Hearing from you makes me INSANELY happy.

Awkay, it's really late and I need sleep. Until next time, folks – which also happens to be the final chapter! I REALLY HOPE that I'll see you all there.

Take care!