The City Of Light, Paris.

Time: 11:30 am

Day I

The streets of Paris never fail to amaze me. I personally prefer to see them in the nighttime, where it's nickname, "The City Of Light", makes much more sense. The city is adorned in a bright, warm glow. Its people are just as splendid; such kind people with genuine smiles and kind hearts.

Yes, France is the place to be.

My name is Lisa. I am twenty years old, and I'm here visiting l'Hexagone, or the country of France as tourists call it. I don't know why, but I'm attracted to this place; it's like a second home to me. The people, acquaintances or strangers alike, are always so kind. I'm grateful to my mother for letting me travel and visit every year: I feel as if a hole would form in my heart if I didn't come and see the lights.

I hold my camera steadily as I aim it for a picture. I love taking photographs; it's a dream of mine for my pictures to be admired by the world. But right now, I'm contempt with taking pictures of this divine city.

I walk along the street, searching for any friends. I wonder if I should stop and eat, I think. It's almost lunch hour.

As I'm thinking on where to have lunch, I feel something on my head, which quickly has reached my neck. All I see is black, and before I can react, I'm thrown somewhere. I land on the surface with a thump, and I can feel the floor beneath me purring slightly. My eyes widen in realization, This is a car! I'm being kidnapped!

"Listen here, girl." A rough, raspy voice says in my ear as I hear the door, my only way out, slam shut. He ties my hands and legs together. "You are going to keep your pretty mouth quiet, or I'll make sure the boss gets what he wants in pieces. Understand?"

I manage to stay calm and nod. I can't believe this, I think. These bastards managed to sneak up on me! I feel so baffled that I don't try to speak. This is the end for me.

We drive in silence for about fifteen minutes, and I still know nothing of my kidnappers. The one thing I know for sure is that there's two of them: one driving and the one who pushed me in. But that is subject to change, there could me more, if they're quiet.

My flurry of thoughts stop with a slam against the seat as the car stops. It was a rather unexpected stop, I can tell by the rushed voice of the man who is driving.

"Can't that man see where he's going?" He honks the horn. "Move it!"

There's silence, and some shuffling. Next thing I hear, a door, I believe the driver's, is opened. The man sitting in the back seat with me opens the other door, and I feel him get off the car without me. I'm now trapped, immobilized, and unprepared for what comes next.

There's a shift of weight on the car, meaning someone has gotten on. The person is right next to me, undoing my legs and wrists.

"What an improper thing to do a lady..." He grumbles. This voice is strangely familiar...

Finally, my savior removes the bag from my head, and I find myself staring into dazzling, lilac eyes. Eyes who disappeared on me the last time I came to visit.

"L-Lisa?"

The City Of Light, Paris.

Time: 12:13 md

Day I

"I can't believe you're here again!" Big Brother France, as he insists I call him, said as walk along the streets of Paris with him. To believe that I was captured, almost sent to God-knows-where a minute ago, and now I'm with this mysterious man. He's wearing a similar outfit to the one he wore when I met him, except that his vest was a navy blue. Ironically, I'm wearing the same clothes as well.

"Like I could stay away; I love this country," I glance at him, and the faint remnant of a blush adorns his cheeks. It's a lovely sight, though I wonder why he's blushing.

"Those brutes... To have the nerve to hurt such a lovely damsel as yourself," the man says bitterly. I smile, "It's alright; you saved me, so everything's better now."

"Say, Lisa, are you hungry?"

"Yes, a bit," I answer, hiding the fact that I was starving.

"Let me treat you to lunch, Lisa." He smiled at me, and I couldn't find a way to refuse. He grabs my hand, and leads me to a cafe nearby. It's a small place, but the smell is exquisite. We sat on a table near the balcony, where I was not deprived on the view of France and it's people.

A sweet-voice waitress attends us, "What can I help you with?"

I order some cake, seeing that my fabled 'hunger' was a fluke now, and Big Brother France ordered some wine. I was getting tired of the 'Big Brother' nonsense.

"What should I call you? I mean, I doubt France is your real name." At this he chuckles.

"I suppose. Call me Francis," He answers, and in no time the bring us our order. The cake was divine; it practically melted into my mouth. Francis sips his wine, and I'm awed by his features. He truly is a work of art.

We finish eating, and the lady brings us the bill. I pull out my wallet to pay my share, but he stops me. "Lisa, I invited you. I'll pay."

I pout, seeing that unfair as I got something so expensive. We leave the cafe and continue to walk along, when something stops him. He takes his phone out of his pocket, and I can make out that he has France's national anthem, La Marseillaise, as his ringtone. This man is quite the patriot, isn't he? It reminds me of when I first met him, when he disappeared on me.

I still don't understand how that happened.

He answers his phone, and I can hear yelling from the other side. His face is expressionless, and he nods. "Be there in a second, sir." He hangs up, and turns to me. He smiles sadly, "Mon amour, it seems I'll have to leave you," he grabs my hand and gives it a little peck. "I hope to see you again, Lisa."

"Same," I smile at my friend as he waves goodbye. I wave back, but something nags at me. What's so important that it changed his happy charisma? I must find out. Against my better judgement, I decide to follow him to see where he's going. I know it's wrong, but the curiosity gets the better of me. I continue to stalk, ahem, I mean follow him, until I reach a building. I recognize it as the Palais Bourbon, a high esteemed building, to say the least. He must be an important person, to be wanted there.

Francis walks by the guard, who only nods at his presence. No identification, no checking? I question. Who is this man, really?

The only way I'll know is if I can sneak in. The guard is tall, broad man. If I had to relate him stereotype-wise, I'd say he's Hispanic, maybe from Colombia. I won't be able to get inside if he's there. I pick up an empty can, and try my luck. I throw it at him, quickly hiding behind a tree. To my advantage, at the same time there's a group of children walking by, who he yells at. This is my chance, I sneak past him when his back is to me, and run up the stairs. Please don't see me, please don't see me..!

I sigh with relief as I enter the building and close the door behind me. It was almost as easy as in the movies, I smile to myself. The smile quickly fades as I hear yelling. Angry yelling. I quietly search for the source. The halls are endless, paintings of important people along the walls. I stop as I find a slightly opened door. I peek into it, and my eyes widen.

Francis is there, with the President of France. No one else, just them. And the President doesn't look happy.

But it's their conversation what throws me.

"The Republic, you're on the edge of collapse, and your chatting some girl up one the streets of Paris! What do you have to say for yourself, République française?!"

What...?!

EDIT: Lisa is twenty years old, since it's stated that she was nineteen in the episode.

It's pretty obvious that Hetalia: The Beautiful World episode 15 got to me, right?

This story will be short, I don't plan it passing 10 chapters. (I need to stop making stories, I have enough!) I don't own the art, nor Hetalia. Credit to the original creators!

How is it so far? Leave a review, my lovelies~! I hope to see you again!

~OmegaStarShooter14~