I deserved a holiday. After so much saving people and being heroic and trying to adjust to the new time (be relatively normal in it without losing the essence of my own time)... After enemies, allies, fights, doubts, lies, mysteries - after all of that, I, Steven Rogers, deserved a nice long holiday. Some days to disconnect.

I tried in different places of the U.S., first (it was and still is my home, after all, the country that I know best) but people kept recognising me and asking me things about the Avengers and the terrorists and the costume and everything job related. Not exactly the perfect way to disconnect. Some of the people worried that if I was there it meant that something bad and dangerous was going to happen. Not ideal while on holiday, either. It didn't feel like a true vacation when I had to justify my presence and everybody knew who I was and watched me.

So, I decided to go to Europe, as a last move before going to some god-forsaken island or to an Amazonian tribe. Europe. The old continent. Maybe it was a good idea, I had quite an old spirit, after all.

And what is more European than Paris?

So I took a few things and left for Paris. The flight was nice, long but pleasant, with plenty of clouds in the little window and air hostesses offering products on the aisles. Not an oficial plane, no governors, or monsters or invisibilty. Just a regular flight. When we finally arrived at the Charles de Gaulle airport some people recognised me, and I feared this would be like Seattle all over again.

But it wasn't. Most french people didn't seem to recognise me and talked to me in French if they talked at all. Sometimes tourists asked me for directions, as if I was a local. Only a couple of american girls recognised me. For the rest of the people there, I was a stranger. Another face on the subway or on the queue to some place.

The city was beautiful, incredibly beautiful. A city with a lot of history, an amazing number of monumental buildings, statues, squares, obelisks... I saw the Eiffel Tower, the Champs Elysées, the Notre Dame Cathedral, all the main interest points. And even if they were really beautiful I must admit that I felt a bit lost. I wasn't used to the ways of European people (their ways of talking, of living...) and everything seemed strange. I was used to being out of time but now I was out of place, too. A stranger in a strange strange land.

The only words I spoke in French were Bonjour and Merci which didn't ease my communication with the rest of the population. A lot of times, I felt I was being mocked or led to tourists traps with over-priced... well, over-priced everything. I tried to enjoy it, nevertheless.

I was walking in the old district of Montmartre one evening, with its stone floors, and old buildings and crêperies and whatnot. I lost every notion of the time that passed watching the shows, the many people on the streets trying to entertain the tourists, singers, magicians, dancers, painters and all kinds of people. I relaxed on the viewpoint with the whole city at my feet. What would be like living there every day? Having the monuments, the river, the bridges, the centuries-old buildings and museums.

I thought of my life, too. Of what was going to happen now. If it would be all adventures or just mainly me trying to figure out this time. I completely lost track of time, watching the people go by, the sun set, the white church, the buildings beneath me, the life everywhere in the city.

By the time I went to get some dinner it was really late and most places were already closing, so I wandered around to find an open place. When I finally did, I was totally lost and realised with horror that my wallet had been stolen. I was sure of it, I had it with me only hours ago. They may had taken it when I was watching one of the shows, or when I bumped into someone in the Place du Tertre while marvelling at the painters and caricature artists. Or maybe in the subway, where I was so tight anyone could have accessed my wallet pocket (I was never taking line 1 again). Damn!

I had my keycard of the hotel on that wallet, all my IDs, money... Now I was going to have to go to the french police, without any proof that I was myself, and I would probably have many problems to communicate with them. And I couldn't even buy dinner or call someone because my mobile had no charge and the charger was in the hotel. I would probably have trouble in the airport to get back, too. Someone trying to pass as Captain America. God...

When I was cursing my luck, a young man all dressed in black came close to me. He had something in his hand. Could it be...?

"You wallet, Monsieur." He said and gave it to me. A miracle.

I opened it and saw that everything was there.

"Even the money! I owe you big time, kid. Thank you, thanks a million. Hey, aren't you the guy who was making all those magic tricks near the Sacré-Coeur, right?" He nodded. "Cool show. Anyways, where did you find it?"

"In your robber's pocket, monsieur." He said, snarky. "I like to take things from people who feel so proud because they took something without the victim noticing only to find out it was taken from them as well. Like a hobby."

There was something eerily familiar about the kid's voice but I couldn't put my finger on it. He was wearing faded black clothes and a leather jacket and had straight black hair and terribly pale skin. I couldn't see his face or his eyes because his hair shadowed them, but I felt like I knew the guy. Which was impossible, because I could still hear the french accent hidden under the almost perfect english.

"Well, I don't know if what you do is exactly legal, but you sure are a blessing. Say, why don't you let me invite you to..."

But I was interrupted by a deep male voice behind us. There were people coming from the other side of the street, too.

"Il est là!"

"On a eu assez de toi, Serrure! Il est temps de payer."

"What...?" I asked, not understanding.

"They are a bit angry at me, this small criminals. I have been... well, interfering with their work. It's fun. Oh, and the people from Rochechouart are here too. You should best leave, Capitaine."

They seemed to be coming from everywhere. I counted fourteen angry men. Some had baseball bats. It was too late to call the cops, the guys were almost on us. It looked like Serrure had angered quite a lot of people. There was no way I was going to leave this kid alone. (Even if he wasn't a kid - the guy was probably my age - I felt compelled to call him so.)

"These men have no quarrel with you. Leave, Captain" And suddenly there was no french accent. I didn't really care.

"I'm not going anywhere until I know you're safe, kid."

"You'll regret that." He said, certain.

"I hardly think so."

Before we had a chance to flee, they were on to us. There were bats and big men and we were very outnumbered. But a bunch of thugs were no match to the Captain of America, so I took three or four of them down easily. Until that fateful moment.

"André, t'as ton truc pour les types grands?"

No idea what it meant. Before I knew it, someone (probably André) was applying some wet rag to my mouth. Chloroform. If it wasn't for the serum I would be out already. But the thing was strong, and it left me a bit groggy. My vision was blurry but I could see in the distance the gang hitting the kid. He was fast, and escaped a lot of times - but they finally pinned him down. There was three of them beating him. I tried to get to them, help out, but swayed. I closed my eyes, trying to focus, to get rid of the liquid's influence. But then I heard a scream of pain and saw the thugs bending the kid's arm at an impossible angle. I had to do something.

Fighting the dizziness and the shadows I got up and went against them. I surprised them, that much was clear. Me and the kid (now with one arm only) took down half of the gang while the rest of them fled.

When I finished, I went to check on the kid. His arm was probably broken, and they had beat him up pretty badly, but at least he was still conscious. That was when I saw his face.

To say I was shocked would be an understatement.


He smiled.

"Comment ça va, Captain Rogers?"

A/N: Hello! Liked it? I could totally make a series called "An Avenger meets Loki in Europe and they become kinda friends" - first it was London, now it's Paris. Hope you liked it, nevertheless, and do tell me what you thought! Sorry for the mistakes, in both languages. (Edit 2: Corrected what I could see. Hoping it's better) But I am neither English nor french. There's Loki angst and hurt/comfort ahead, as well as more Paris, more chaos and a confused Captain.

The bits in french:

Il est là: He's here.

On a eu assez de toi. Il est temps de payer: We've had enough of you. It's time to pay.

T'as ton truc pour les types grandes? : Do you have your thing for the big guys?

Hope you liked it and don't forget, reviews help inspire the muse!

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