The Avengers and all related characters and settings are the property of Marvel Inc. and their respective affiliates. All rights reserved (by them, not me).

Chapter 12: Revelations in a Belgrade Hotel Room

Slavija Lux Hotel, Belgrade

Pym stepped out the front door of the hotel and drew in a deep breath of fresh air. He needed it. An eight-hour shift of listening to Stark's little translator device - transmitting every conversation, every telephone call, every rustle, from General Boca Stoparic's office in the government building a block away – was tiresome.

Yet every time he stepped back out onto the streets of this city, the memories came flooding back. That night. Those sounds. Maria's face. Even in broad daylight, every street scene looked to him like the same one where she was murdered, even though he knew it wasn't true. He also had to remind himself that these people, the ones he passed on the street as he turned and headed down the sidewalk – these people weren't the bad guys. But he searched the faces all the same. Every flash of a smile caught his eye, and he searched for a telltale gold tooth with a silver star.

So far, nothing. Just like the conversations from Stoparic's office. And they'd been at it for three days.

Pym picked up a coffee at a corner vendor, then headed back. Despite his cabin fever, he was looking forward to getting on his laptop and going back to work on some exciting new projects he had going - ones Stark and Janet didn't even know about yet. This idea of using the Particles to manipulate mass without changing size showed real promise. As did another idea . . . one even he would have considered impossible before he started getting exposure to all of Stark's machinery.

Pym re-entered the hotel lobby, his mind lost in his research, and climbed the steps to the second floor room they all three shared. Stark claimed that sharing the same room somehow helped maintain the front that they were tourists. But Pym couldn't see how. More likely it was just because Stark wanted to sleep in the same room as Janet. But with each of them taking turns on eight-hour shift rotations, there wasn't much time for fooling around. Pym wouldn't have tolerated any between Stark and Janet anyway.

He keyed open the door and found Stark sitting on the floor with the translator headphones on. "Anything?"

Stark didn't answer. He was gazing dreamily into the bathroom. As Pym moved deeper into the room, he heard the shower running. Stark noticed him then and straightened up, blinking. But Pym stuck his head around the corner into the bathroom and saw what Stark had been gawking at: Janet in the shower, her naked body only mildly distorted by the shower door glass.

Pym reached and pulled the bathroom door closed, then turned back to Stark, incredulous. "Were you sitting here watching Janet take a shower?"

Stark yanked one earpiece back and grabbed a bag of peanuts from a table top next to his head. "What's that you say?"

"You know what I said."

Stark shrugged and shifted positions on the floor. "Hey, you can't blame a guy for looking."

"Yes, I can," Pym retorted. "I blame you."

"Oh, come on. I'm just having a little fun. It's boring, sitting here-"

"That's all it ever is with you, isn't it? Fun."

Stark thought a second. "As a matter of fact, yes. I can truthfully report that I've never not had fun in the presence of a naked woman."

"Does it ever occur to you to treat a lady with a little respect?"

Stark smirked. "Respect . . . is that really what this is about?" He cut a curious look at Pym. "Or is it something else?"

Pym drew a blank. "Like what?"

Stark tossed a peanut into his mouth and chewed while talking, his voice a falsetto tease. "Come on . . . you know what I'm talking about."

"No," Pym answered, befuddled. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You've got the hots for her, don't you?"

Pym realized then that he hadn't exactly walked into this situation with a poker face. He hesitated.

"Aaaaaah." Stark got to his feet. "You do!"

"No, I don't!" Pym answered.

"Then why'd you hesitate, huh?"

"'The hots,' Tony – as if you need reminding - are a physiological response involving nothing more than hormones and psychological stimuli." Pym sounded lame, even to himself. But he didn't know where else to try to divert the conversation - and he definitely wanted to divert it. "So no. I don't have 'the hots' for Janet."

"But you'd like to, wouldn't you?"

"How did this become about me when you were the one watching Janet in the shower?"

"Come on." Stark started dancing in place, the translator headset still covering one ear. "You and Janet, stroking with that six-foot—"

"Tony!"

Stark shrugged. "I'm just sayin', high pockets. I think you two would make a lovely couple." He extended the bag of peanuts toward Pym. "But until then, you don't mind if I—"

Just then he froze. He yanked the headset back over both ears. "I think we've got something."

Instantly, Stark was all business. He turned and started writing, still listening to whatever was coming through the headset. Pym stood silent and still.

The bathroom door opened, and Janet stepped out, dressed but with wet hair. Pym turned and put a finger to his lips – as soon as Janet saw what was going on, she froze too.

Stark kept listening and taking notes for several minutes. He put down the pen, listened a few minutes more, then took off the headset.

"Alright. Big party meeting coming up Friday night at a conference center just a couple of blocks from here. The Executioner will be there heading up security." Stark ripped the sheet of paper from the notepad. "We've got him."

Pym felt a rush of adrenaline pump through his muscles. "Only two more days! Then I'll have Maria's killer by the throat." He didn't even realize he'd said it out loud until he heard the sound of it coming from his own mouth.

"No, you'll have him in handcuffs," Janet interjected next to him.

Pym turned to her, the anger that simmered constantly beneath the surface on this subject flaring instantly back to life. "What I'll have him in is not your concern, Janet! He didn't kill your father, he killed my wife! When we find whoever killed you father, you can decide what to do."

Janet confronted him squarely. "Hank, for God's sake, stop it! This is not you talking! You're better than this, and I know it!"

"You can spare me the 'you're better than this' patronizing!"

Suddenly Stark interrupted. "Actually, you can both spare me the shouting, if you don't mind." He looked around at the walls of the room. "We don't want anyone overhearing."

Pym fell reluctantly silent; Janet did too. After a few minutes with both of them quietly fuming, Janet turned to leave. "I'm going for a walk." As she passed Pym, she stopped, leaned close, and spoke in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.

"I don't want to have to fight against you over here, Hank. But if you keep it up with this obssession with murdering this man . . . so help me, I will."