Authors Note: Well here it is, the last chapter for Clint's seventeenth. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. Thanks to kimbee for suggesting this one! I am currently working on the Christmas special and Clint's grandparent's coming to visit after his accident (16th birthday).

I am constantly awed at the kind words and encouragement you all give me, so thank you! To all those who reviewed the last chapter - Lollypops101, kimbee, sammygirl1963, Qweb, xxnuttynicxx, 101JRae, DBhawkguy30.

Phil watched the kid in fascination as he managed to finish off his second enormous hot dog, while simultaneously licking the ice cream cone that continued to melt with the heat of the mid-day sun bearing down on them.

"Enjoying that are we?" the agent asked, tossing his left over hamburger and wrapper into the nearest trash can.

Clint's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets at the older man's actions.

"It was a small piece of burger bun, there was no meat left," Phil assured, shaking his head affectionately. "Calm yourself." That kid and his stomach, he thought. There really was no end to the amount Barton could consume or at the very least the older man hadn't bore witness to such an event, as of yet.

"Where to next?" Coulson asked as they strolled down the street. They'd already visited four car dealerships, none of which had any vehicle that stood out for the teenager. It looked like Clint was going to be a little picky when it came to his new ride. Phil wouldn't hold it against him though, he'd been pretty picky about his own car too.

Clint tilted his head to the side, worrying his bottom lip as he pondered where to go next. There were another two dealerships on this side of the street that they could still try. Any others they would have to drive to as they were situated on the other side of town. "Can we try these next two, then decide what to do if I don't see anything there?"

"Of course, kid. Whatever you want to do."

It only took them a couple of minutes to get there, a long line of gleaming cars greeting them at the entrance. Phil turned to ask the teen where he wanted to start only to find himself talking to thin air. Whirling about the agent spotted Clint leering at a particularly stunning looking black sports car. A Pontiac Firebird, if he wasn't mistaken.

"Dad, check this out!" Clint cried, waving his arms about frantically, somehow assuming that doing so would make the older man move faster.

"I see it kid. Very nice," Phil commented, giving the sleek black car a thorough once over with his attentive gaze. From the kid's inability to stand still and the beaming smile lighting up the teen's features, the older man was certain that this was the car Clint wanted.

"Can I help you?"

Coulson turned to face the sales man, a short, balding man with a kind smile. Phil held out his hand and smiled politely when the other man returned the gesture.

"Yes, I hope you can." The agent tipped his head in the teen's direction. "This is my son Clint, he's looking to get a new car."

"This one," Clint pointed out helpfully.

"Yes, well we'll have to see what sort of deal we can come to," Phil stated, then followed the shorter man inside to go over the figures while Clint stayed outside to drool over his 'new' car. The Fire Bird looked like the 1970's version. There were no visible marks that Clint could see and the wheels were spotless. Whoever had owned the car previously had treated her well. He'd get one of the mechanics from SHIELD to give the car a once over of course, but just from the looks of it, the car was pristine.

The teen spent a further ten minutes ogling the sporty ride before deciding he should join his dad inside. Just as he stepped away from the car he paused, the short hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Clint had the horrible feeling that he was being watched.

Looking over his shoulder, he spotted a man in a navy hoodie on the opposite side of the street. The hood was shielding the man's face, preventing Clint from getting a good look to see if he recognized him, but he swore he could feel the man's gaze studying him. Without warning the man in the hood looked up, his blue eyes locking with the teen's and Barton felt a shiver run through his entire body. It had been years, and if it hadn't been for the trademark Barton blue eyes, he'd never have recognized his own brother: Barney.

His feet were carrying him forward before he realised what was happening, then he was sprinting toward the road. Clint saw the bus coming and screeched to a halt, trying to keep his eyes on the older Barton. His heart was thumping in his chest at the thought of seeing his older brother again, though once the bus had passed there was no one there and the teenager had to work out whether his mind had been playing tricks on him or he had just observed his older brother watching him.

A hand on his shoulder had him whirling around with his fists clenched ready for a fight only to deflate at the familiar sight of Phil, his expression full of concern. The agent was immediately on alert. "What's wrong Clint?" he asked, his eyes darting around the immediate area.

"I thought….." Clint shook his head as if trying to dispel the image of his older sibling. "It's probably nothing, just my mind playing tricks on me."

"You sure?" the older man asked, seemingly unconvinced with the kid's explanation. It took quite a lot to rattle the teen these days and right now looking at his boy, it seemed as though Clint had spotted a ghost. His normally tanned skin had taken on an unhealthy pasty colour.

"Yeah," he said still sounding distracted.

Phil decided to change the subject by dangling the previously concealed car keys in front of the teenagers face, pleased when a beaming smile stretched over Clint's features.

"It's mine? Really?" the teen wandered around the car for the umpteenth time, breathless with new wonder. He could barely contain his excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he circled around her. He was thrilled with the knowledge that she now belonged to him and Clint was determined to take exceptional care of her.

Coulson just smiled. "Well let's take her for a spin and then I can answer that question with conviction."

"Sweet!" Barton caught the keys tossed toward him with ease, and slid into the driver's seat. He started her up, the loud rumble of the engine filling him with delight. Clint reflected on her beauty as he pulled out on to the main road. "Let's see how she runs."

Phil found himself wondering how on earth he was going to be able to come up with something better than this for Clint's eighteenth. That thought was pushed from his mind as the car turned sharply, the agent gripping the door handle for dear life and concluded that if the teen kept this up he might not have to worry about next year because they might just die in a car accident. It was playful reasoning and made the older man chuckle in amusement because he'd seen his boy driving and watched him complete the advanced driving course enabling him to handle trickier situations. With his love of fast cars and attempting feats that most people presumed would never be accomplished, Phil realised how much he and Clint were alike and it filled him with pride.

"Show me what this baby can do, kid." Phil saw surprise flitter across those blue eyes and felt his lips quirk.

"Aye, aye Captain."

Putting the pedal to the metal pinned both Clint and Phil to their seats with the force of the acceleration, the black sports car surging forward leaving nothing but a trail of dust rising behind them.

Clint manoeuvred his new car on to the driveway next to Phil's dark sedan; the agent's work car. Lola was kept well hidden from prying eyes, even certain agents within SHIELD were considered unworthy of seeing her greatness. The teen turned off the engine, relaxing back into his seat and decided to take a moment, his gaze roaming over the interior. There wasn't much that needed done to make her presentable, maybe just a few small additions to make her his own, as well as coming up with a name for her.

Movement outside caught his eye and he watched as his dad walked to the front door carrying three pizza boxes, balancing them on one hand while pulling his house keys from his pocket and entering the house. Clint was struck once again by just how lucky he was to have Phil as his dad. The older man had out done himself again and Barton had finally given up questioning why fate had brought him face to face with the agent. Molly had commented on many occasions that it wasn't just Clint who got something out of this relationship; Phil had been changed by it too. Apparently parenthood was all that was needed to bring the normally no nonsense, stoic, Phil Coulson out of his boring shell and into the kind, patient and sometimes sarcastic father he now was.

Thinking about his new family brought up the painful memories of his only living blood relative; Barney and his subsequent betrayal. It wasn't something the teen wanted to dwell on. Deep down Barton hoped that he hadn't really seen his older brother, that it was his subconscious tricking him because for the first time in a long time, Clint hadn't been thinking about Barney, where he was or what he was doing. Instead he'd been thinking how happy he was, and hoping that the warmth that spread through his entire being whenever Phil did something to show how much he loved the teen, would never fade.

"Clint? Are you coming inside or do I have to eat all the pizza myself?" Phil appeared at the passenger side of the car, one arm resting on the roof, a cheeky smile adorning his features.

"Yeah I'm coming." Barton got out of the car and shot the older man a daring grin. "I'd like to see you try, old man."

Phil chuckled, wrapping his arm around the teen and guiding him inside.

"I was thinking that next year I could get a motorcycle. What do you think, dad?"

Coulson froze mid step, his face paling drastically at the thought of his son riding a death trap on two wheels. The kid was already a speed freak, he really didn't need the added acceleration and speed that came from riding a bike. Maybe next year wasn't going to be as easy as Phil had hoped, although the more he thought about it, when had anything ever been easy for them?

The shit eating grin being directed at him told Phil that Clint was enjoying his reaction to his announcement. "Don't worry dad, I'd be extra careful on a bike."

"I'm sure you would, though I'd appreciate you holding off on that for a few years. I'd prefer not to go grey before I reach forty."

"You aren't forty already?" Clint asked innocently, his brow furrowed in mocking fashion.

"Cheeky," Phil replied, shoving the teen playfully toward the kitchen. "Go get us some juice and I'll divide up the pizza."

Clint's eyebrow arched in confusion. "I thought two were for me?"

"Yes, well that was before the wisecrack about my age."

Barton's attempt at a petted lip had the older man bursting out laughing. Phil gave in without much of a fight. "Fine, you can have the two."

"Yes!" With a fist pump in the air and a smile that brightened up the room, Coulson vowed that he would do everything in his power to make sure that sight never dwindled. The image of his son happy was worth more than gold and nothing would take that away from him.

"Happy birthday, Clint."

"Thanks dad."

The hooded figure stepped inside the small rented apartment, shrugging off his dark hoodie and throwing it over the back of the sofa. He didn't acknowledge the other man in the room, simply headed toward the practically bare kitchen and opened the fridge to pull himself out a bottle of beer.

A frustrated grunt sounded from the blond haired man standing by the window. "I thought you said to keep ourselves hidden. That he wasn't to see you?"

"Yeah, well I changed my mind." Barney took a swig from the bottle, then set it down on the counter top with a bang. "Besides, he probably didn't even recognise me. My little brother is living it up with his new dad now. He won't be thinking about me, Derek."

Derek arched an eyebrow at the elder Barton. "I thought you said this wouldn't be a problem? That you could handle being close to him. Why don't I just ask him the question and get it over with?"

"No!" Barney yelled, his fist gripping the bottle so tightly his knuckles had turned white. "He isn't to know, I don't want him involved in any of this, Derek. It's part of the reason I left him at the orphanage in the first place."

"Then what are we going to do? Just continue watching him?" The younger man paced around the small confines of the living room, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. "What if Malcom finds out that it's your brother that knows where his money is?"

Barney sighed. "The problem is I'm pretty sure my little brother doesn't know anything, or at least isn't aware of knowing the location, but for right now we keep watch. Clint doesn't need to know that our parents weren't the people we thought they were, that they were criminals and stole something that belonged to a very powerful, well connected psychopath."

"Then what do we do?"

"We keep doing what we were doing, try to find it without involving my brother. If Malcolm does come looking then we might have no choice but to involve Clint, though that's only worst case scenario. Alright?" he asked his companion, yet the younger man knew it was more of an order than suggestion.

Derek nodded glumly. "Fine, but it's been nine years Barney. Don't you think it's time to involve your younger brother? Maybe he does know, maybe he can tell us something that will help us. Would that not be easier?"

"Easier; yes. Put Clint in danger; definitely. We're doing this my way, Derek. If you have a problem with that," he gestured toward the door. "There's the door."

"Alright, Barney." The young blond conceded, moving to flop down on the sofa. He gazed up at the older man with a frown. "So what do you think 'Locksley' is, how is it connected to your brother and why would your parents hide it there?"

Barney Barton shook his head slowly, pulling the crumpled up paper from his pocket with surprising gentleness. He read over the words for what seemed like the millionth time, more than certain he could recite the entire letter the amount of times he'd read it, yet holding the paper in his hands made him feel like he still had something of his parents, an anchor that kept him from drowning in a sea of despair. He'd lost his parents to a tragic accident, an existence he wouldn't wish upon anyone, but he'd chose to walk out on his little brother and with that decision Barney had shattered their bond, leaving Clint all alone.

He wasn't sure Clint would ever forgive him. Wasn't sure he deserved to be pardoned, though in his defence, he'd believed he was doing the right thing. Barney hadn't wanted to drag his younger brother around with him searching for answers, and after all that he'd been through, the people he'd encountered, he was content with his decision.

The elder Barton's vision blurred unexpectedly and he swiped a hand over his face, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat. Lifting his head, his blue gaze locked on the calendar hanging on the wall opposite.

"Happy birthday, Clint."

The End.

Dun...dun...duuuun. Bet you didn't see that one coming lol Barney's back!

Once again, I just want to say thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed this story, it really means a lot. I will be continuing this series, as well as a few other stories not connected to this universe I've created, and perhaps a few others not from this fandom. I hope to get them written as quickly as I can but I won't put a timescale on it, just a promise to do my best not to make you all wait too long. ;)

Thanks again!

weemcg