Chapter 4

Figured I'd give this fic another shot.

Natasha POV

"Tracy's ring."

"How is that even possible?" Peter asked.

"I guess that's the point of conducting and investigation." I ruffle his already messed up hair. "Now, come on, you still have school today."

He groaned, falling back onto his pillow.

The morning went per usual. Peter didn't say much after I had told him what happened. As ashamed as I am of that mistake, it's going to affect his life now, what with the paparazzi and reporters coming after him. It was the main reason I decided to tell him the truth.

I always hated the press, the annoying, little vultures. But when I heard Peter scream, I figured it was because of all the noise outside. I, certainly, wasn't expecting some skinny photographer standing over him trying to take front page pictures.

Still stewing from that furious thought, I stuff Peter's sandwich into a bag, not taking into consideration that it may be crushed now. I wasn't going to remake it, but Peter probably wouldn't care anyways. That or he'll think it got smashed by his books or something. Either way, I was in the clear. Making a slight crinkle noise, I fold the top of the bag forward into a nice spiral.

"Peter!" I called to him, "We're going to be late!"

We concluded that there was just no possible way for Peter to get out of the house, walk to school, and not be hounded by reporters, so I'm driving him today. I also need to get to work early so that I can start getting on this case and get the press off my front lawn.

"Yeah, Mom! I'm coming." I hear rumbling on the ceiling from Peter rushing to get ready after taking a shower. Once I heard the backpack zip, it was only moments before he tumbled down the stairs, his socks making him slide on the wooden staircase. "Let me just put my shoes on."

"Breakfast?" I asked, concerned that he wasn't eating enough, especially since he had training today.

"Nah, I'm good." He replied, distracted by stuffing the already smashed lunch into his backpack before zipping it again. "I don't have much of an appetite right now anyways."

He threw his backpack over his shoulder, making his light gray jacket scrunch up under his arms just a bit. "Still in shock?" I tease.

He scoffs. "Sorry, Mom. But when you have a random dude come in through your window," he points at me, "it's a compliment, but when he comes through mine," he points at himself, "it's harassment."

He says it so sarcastically with little nods of his head, I smile just a bit. It occurs to me more and more everyday that he's becoming a smartass, not that I mind a little good humor every so often, just as long as it doesn't get out of hand.

"Alright." I give, holding my hands up in defeat. "No breakfast today." I'd argue with him, normally, on things like this. But Peter was also a growing boy, he ate 24/7 even without my help. Going one meal, probably wasn't going to kill him.

I grab my keys from the center table in the hallway, swinging them around my finger until they hit my palm. "Ready?"

"Yeah." We begin to walk towards the garage, Peter grabbing his training bag as he does. I look at him curiously, then he mentions. "By the way, I figured coming back home may be a hassle, so I'm bringing my gear with me to school, so I can leave from there."

I shrug. "Sounds like a plan to me." Better to keep Peter as far away from this as possible.

We pull up to the school. Peter in the passenger seat with his backpack on his lap as he leans on it. He clicks the buttons on his phone.

"Alright." I park the car, looking at him. "Have a good day at school."

"Thanks, Mom." He replies nonchalantly, then he turns and smiles at me. "Good luck at work."

"I'll do my best." I promised. "Love you." I call as he shuts the door with a slam. He walks a few feet then turns around, continuing to walk backwards as he waves at me, before spinning around again to walk forward. At least he heard me, right?

Work was also hounded with reporters. Ignoring their constant whines for attention, I made my way inside.

"Looks like you've gotten yourself into a bit of trouble, Nat." Clint greets me at the front door. Steve Rogers, a cop on the force follows him.

I flip him off, already annoyed with today.

"I should have gotten a picture of that for a harassment case I'm trying to pin you on." Clint chuckles.

"What have you got for me, Barton?" I straighten my jacket, taking off towards the office.

"Unfortunately, I got nothing. Steve's been helping me compile his criminal records from the archives. But other than perhaps connecting a few other felonies to Chavez. There hasn't been much."

"So, there's no new developments." I sigh frustratingly. This was going to be much harder and take much longer than I thought.

"Not currently, ma'am." Steve speaks, strong and confident. "Nothing concrete anyways."

"What do we have that's not concrete?"

Clint plunked the folder he was carrying down, opening it to one of the pages. I picked it up, seeing a chemical report on the ring. "Steve here is probably better at answering that question." Clint stepped aside, letting Steve point out things on the document.

"You're the new rookie, right?" I remember his face being posted in the breakroom. Top of his class at the police academy. They say that within a few months, he'd probably be drafted to SWAT. That was where Clint and I first started after quitting SHIELD, before Clint convinced me to move with him to a kinder job because he started having kids and I had one.

Guess, something had to be said about always being home for dinner at night. Although, even if Clint were to die, the kids had their mother. Peter, however, didn't have anyone.

"Yes, ma'am. Steve Rogers." He held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you." I took his hand. "So, what's the deal?"

"Well the ring we found was Tracy's, however it was missing the diamond. We found that the diamond that was found at the scene was fake."

"Cubic zirconia?"

"As usual." Clint nodded.

That peaked my interest. "Sold it, maybe?"

"That's our best guess." Steve suggested. "Chavez wasn't the richest person after all. That kind of money is hard to come by."

I hum in agreement. "Any known buyers?"

"Like the guy kept a log?" Clint smirked, sarcastically. He moved to lean against the desk on my right, folding his arms across his chest. He looked down at the document, too.

I shrug. Damn it.

"Anything else?" I dropped the subject. It wasn't going to get us anywhere now.

"Well, he did have a connection to Daft." Steve told her.

"How so?" My eyes shoot to his. He didn't even flinch. That's a strong cop, right there. So much for not having any new developments, I thought.

"Don't give that look, I know what you're thinking, but like he said nothing is concrete." Clint raised his hands in surrender. "Chavez and Daft use to work together."

"More like Daft was Chavez's boss." Steve corrected.

"I'm thinking a revenge scheme." Clint added.

"I'm not so sure." Steve disagreed.

Both Clint and I raised an eyebrow, causing the cop to backtrack slightly. "Not that it is off the table, but why go after someone's ex-wife? Why not the kids or his assets? Something that means something more to him."

Clint pouted his lips and nodded his head back and forth, noting that it was a good idea.

"I don't know. Even millionaires have some form of connection to their ex-wives." I suggested.

Steve just stood there.

"I'm thinking a hit man." I replied.

"We already went down that path the first time we got the case." Clint reminded me.

"Yes. But something tells me that the hit to Daft's reputation was bigger than he leads on."

"Nah." Clint waves a hand in front of his nose, dismissing the remark. "If it did he wouldn't be a senator anymore."

True, I thought. Reputation is everything in politics. Being a senator for as many years as Daft was meant he had to have a pretty good reputation still or he was very good at covering things up.

"I think it's worth looking into." Steve shrugged.

"Who's on forensics for the case?" I wondered aloud.

"Stark and Banner." Clint answered. "You know them."

Of course, I do. Banner was usually pretty good to work with, easy going, smart and casual. Stark was the problem. Cocky and annoying, but he was incredible at his work, so it was necessary to keep him aboard. Honestly, if he weren't working for the police department, he'd probably be the greatest criminal ever known to man.

"So, they've looked at everything?" I asked, wanting more information.

"Even if they hadn't, they'd say they had. Stark, especially."

"They are the best we have in New York." Steve supplied.

"Still don't have to be so cocky about it." Clint shrugged.

Then something struck me. We've been talking so much about Richard Daft, we forgot about the other player, Christian Howard.

"Is Christian Howard still in custody?"

"No. He never went into custody, remember?" Clint answered. Damn, forgot about that. We never were able to prove his involvement, but no one's seen him in years either.

"Any idea where he is?"

"Yeah, right." Clint responded, sarcastically. "We still have a warrant out for his arrest."

"With that motivation, I'd be hiding too." Steve commented.

"Yep. He's looking at a lot of jail time for evading the law." Clint added, stretching out his back before returning to his original position.

I sat back at my chair, crossing my hands and bringing them to my chin. Christian was never booked, and he's been hiding out for years. Then all of a sudden Eddie Chavez turns up dead with a connection to Tracy's ex Richard Daft. Not to mention, Chavez had the ring.

"If only we could find him."

"Well," Steve began, "if we could, it would answer a lot of questions about the case."

"And win you a large warrant." Clint gently punched Steve in the arms several times, chuckling as he did so.

"Knock it off," the office brushed him away. "It isn't because of the money."

"Even if it is, no one would blame you. Can't imagine what it must be like on an officer's salary."

"It's fine. Just me at home anyways."

"Now that's the real shock." Clint smirked. "Just wait until you meet someone and settle down. You'll drop out of SWAT in no time."

"That'll be a while, Detective." Steve politely smiled.

I sighed at the antics. "I'm going to chat with Banner and Stark, see if there's anything else."

"Good luck with that." Clint waved me along as I gather the papers and close the vanilla folder. "Also ask Stark if theirs any good bars nearby, you'll probably need it!"

I could hear him laughing. I could even hear Rogers chuckling to himself.

Before I even stepped foot through those doors, I had to compose myself. Both Stark and Banner were incredibly intelligent and would annoy the crap out of me if given the opportunity. At least Banner didn't do it on purpose, Stark was another story. How Banner puts up with him I'll never know.

Banner and Stark are partners. They work together in the forensics but really do much more research. In fact, they've been on several magazines, written scientific journals and are known throughout the world. To be honest, I think this is just a past time for them. Something on the side to help with their conscious.

In fact, I know it is for Stark since he also runs a multi-billion-dollar company. Honestly, I think he simply likes being around Banner. They're very like-minded, even though their personalities are opposite.

Banner… he's a toss-up.

They were good at it though, had to give them credit for that.

Banner is the eldest, a leading scientist in many fields. Stark, however, is relatively new to this field, has only been apart of it for about two years now. He joined to somehow change the way police run their science departments after him being kidnapped and the force not being able to find clues for a while. He's done well, but is ego gets in the way of any real congrats from anyone.

I stare at the white, metal door for a while. I knock and enter without hearing a reply.

The two wheel around their desk chairs, starring at me. "Romanoff." Bruce smiles, kindly. Always liked him, perhaps more than I like to lead on.

"What do we owe the pleasure? Need a hacker? Forensics? Maybe a date to a wedding?" Stark asks, raising his eyebrows.

Right. "Anything new with the Chavez case?" I question him, making my tone demanding and undeniably terrifying. Sometimes I had to play hardball with Stark.

"Rogers, didn't tell you?" Bruce asked, he leaned his elbows on his knees, neatly folding his hands under his chin.

"I've spoken with him, but I need something better."

"Well, that's all we got." Stark said pointedly. "If you don't need a date, you know were the door is."

"Tony." Bruce chastised. "Unfortunately, Ms. Romanoff…"

"Natasha, please." I corrected him.

"Natasha." He corrected. "Unfortunately, we don't have anything to give you except some lost trails, currently. Until we find something, we don't feel the need to inform you."

"That's Brucie's way of saying to get the hell out of here and let us do some work." Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. "You're only like the eighth person to ask today."

"That's not it at all, Tony." Bruce replied, looking kind of embarrassed.

"Then you need to work harder." I comment directly at Stark.

"Find some real evidence and maybe we could." He shrugged, smugly.

I felt my eyes darken. I slam my hand on his desk, shaking the papers clear off. I lean forward into his personal space. "If a diamond ring that belonged to a long-forgotten case isn't evidence than you need to go back to your precious mansion, rich boy."

"At least you know your facts, Nat." He smirked. Damn it! I never could intimidate Stark properly. Not without threatening his life, but even then, he didn't seem to care.

I stare at him a bit longer, only to watch his mask shatter ever so slightly when his iris began to shake. I moved away. "Call me if you find something."

"We'll be sure to do that." Stark waved.

"We understand, Natasha." Bruce said. "You'll be the first."

I hear my shoes click their way to the exit before nearly slamming the metal door on their face.

Please follow, favorite and review!