AN: This is the first chapter of this story that doesn't have one of the 2 main characters as the POV character. Let me know if you like the idea of spreading it out to other characters as Leïla and Thierry are joined by other heroes their age.

To Geft: I do enjoy writing Leïla and Thierry!

Ruth pressed her face against the car window, peering out at the arrivals section of Charles de Gaulle Airport as they slowly drove past clusters of travelers grouped around stacks of luggage, packing in tightly along the terminal wall. A shuttle bus drove past on its way to the parking lots, as a taxi pulled up in front of an older couple who started loading their luggage into the trunk. Automatically, she turned away from those larger groups, concentrating on the individual people scattered up and down the loading and unloading area. "Where could he be…" she muttered to herself, studying the faces of a group of teenaged boys for the third time. Most of them stared down at their phones, though one looked up, caught her looking, and winked. Ruth's eyes narrowed.

Beside her in the driver's seat, the Gorilla grunted, turning to drive around the circle once more.

Frowning, Ruth leaned back in her seat and folded her arms, resting her eyes for a moment as they drove around the parking lots and returned to the beginning of the loading area. A perfectly nice day out – Leïla had invited her to meet her friends in the zoo near the Dupain-Cheng Bakery – and where was she? Sitting in the car with the Gorilla, waiting for their stupid guest to show up. Why had Marinette and Adrien insisted on sending her, when she didn't actually know him?

On reaching the start of the terminal line, Ruth refocused her attention on the assortment of people sitting or standing around, waiting for rides. He was about her age… but that was all she really knew about him, at least in terms of his physical appearance. Her jaw clenched. It wasn't exactly her fault that she'd never met him before; the United Heroez typically stayed off of Iroquois land, and the Iroquois had been connected closely to the American Miraculous Guardians for a millennium. But now Lupa Gris expected her to not just recover her miraculous from the Bearator, but also to make nice with one of the United Heroez.

It was hard enough just figuring out the Heroes of Paris!

The Gorilla hummed, nodding out the window in front of them.

Ruth cocked her head, studying the indicated group carefully, the collection of boys she had been looking over earlier. As far as she could tell, it was a school group – a large number of kids her age, along with four adults. Most of their luggage had been piled in a heap near the edge of the sidewalk, though a couple of them were still holding the handle for their suitcase. Two of the adults seemed to be arguing back and forth about something she couldn't hear. One of the boys pointed off toward the runways as a jet took off. Sighing, Ruth was just about to look away when she noticed the calculating look on one boy's face, standing with the group but off to the side. "You think that's him?"

The Gorilla nodded, pulling over to the side of the road and parking just past the school group.

Nervously, Ruth got out of the car, glancing up and down the way. One of the adults with the group looked over at her for a moment before returning his attention to the larger group of boys. The boy in question spotted Ruth and turned a penetrating gaze on her, his brows furrowed. "Are you looking for a ride to Lyon?" she asked in English.

The boy cocked his head, arching one eyebrow suspiciously. "Please: a Lion is just an overgrown Cat."

"Not when you give it spots," Ruth finished, letting out a relieved breath before rolling her eyes.

The boy nodded, relaxing slightly, and dragged his suitcases over to the car. Ruth followed him around to the trunk, which the Gorilla had already popped open for them. As the boy lifted one suitcase into the trunk, Ruth did the same with the other and nodded toward the back seat. Shrugging, the boy got into the car and shut the door as Ruth climbed in on the opposite side, keeping the middle seat between them open, and the Gorilla pulled away as soon as the door was shut. Glancing over at her, the boy shook his head ruefully. "Who came up with that script?"

Ruth shrugged. "I think Cat Noir did," she answered. "Though don't hold me to it. But that sounded like his terrible sense of humor. I'm Ruth, by the way," she added, holding out a hand. As he shook it, she jerked her head toward the front seat. "That's the Gorilla. He doesn't talk much."

"'Much'?"

She stifled a laugh. "Really, he doesn't talk at all. Or at least not that I've heard."

The Gorilla grunted, his mouth parting in amusement.

"Oh, please," interjected a small indigo Kwami, poking her head over the seat. "Goosilla says plenty; you just have to know how to listen."

"Dorreen more than makes up for him," Ruth muttered, arching an eyebrow. "Honestly, I don't think it's possible for her to not talk."

"Barry," he responded, shaking her hand. He chuckled. "These Heroes of Paris really don't mess around, if even their driver has a miraculous!"

Ruth nodded in agreement. "Considering everything they went through with Hawk Moth…"

He hummed. "I remember when Hawk Moth first appeared," he mused. "He was all anyone could talk about in my school for a few weeks – him and the new heroes who had showed up to fight him. I wasn't part of the Philly Heroez yet at that point, but it wasn't too long after that Grandfather gave me the miraculous. I'm 'Buck' – or at least I was…" He frowned, looking away. "It does seem pretty silly to keep using my hero name when I don't have my miraculous anymore…"

Ruth hummed. "I don't see any problem with that," she told him. He turned back toward her, and his eyes widened in interest. She let out a breath. "I've never actually had my miraculous yet, but when I go out with the Heroes of Paris, I still go by Nyagwai'."

"'Bear'?" asked Barry, furrowing his brows.

She blinked. "Wait, you know Seneca?"

He grimaced. "Not a lot; that's about the extent of what I know," he admitted. "Grandfather taught me a few words and phrases from other Indian languages, and I've picked up a few more here and there also."

She cocked her head. "Are you…?"

He nodded. "Lenape," he explained. "My miraculous had been in our tribe ever since one of my ancestors first found it… almost 300 years ago."

"Huh."

He pursed his lips, his brows furrowed. "And what about you. Are you… actually Seneca?"

Ruth eyed him carefully for a long minute and finally nodded. "Born and raised. My miraculous was found by a member of my clan, but a lot longer ago than yours – 1500 years, at least. The clan was approached by the American Guardians and agreed to return the miraculous to them, but only if the elders of the clan would have the right to choose the miraculous' holder. And until last year, it had always been a member of my clan who held the miraculous."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So what happened?"

Her mouth set in a thin line, and she let out a low growl. "My uncle was murdered by one of the Dark Acolytes, and his miraculous was taken and given to a monster who uses it to hurt people."

Barry's eyes widened. "Seriously?" She nodded sourly. "Damn. I'm sorry to hear that." He sighed heavily. "Mine was stolen by Dark Acolytes, too. The night after the Tarasque tore through Philly." He frowned. "I'm still not sure why they spared me, actually."

Ruth hummed, trying to resist the urge to run her fingers through her hair. She had only seen the miraculous which she was supposed to hold once, when her Uncle John had returned home to speak to the tribal elders before the last election. At the time, she'd had no idea that it would be the last time she saw him, or that she would be chosen as his successor, or that the miraculous would be stolen. If anything, she had hoped that perhaps her own child might be chosen, after Uncle John finally retired following a long career with the American Miraculous Heroes. But that hadn't happened. He had been killed in action, and now here she was in Paris, looking for the man who was abusing her miraculous. She looked over at Barry curiously. "What was it like?" she finally asked. "Having your miraculous, I mean."

He shrugged. "It felt… powerful. Not the miraculous itself, but the weight of expectations. Beavers had protected our tribe for centuries – through wars back home and even here in Europe. How was I supposed to live up to that legacy? And yet, Grandfather had trusted me to hold it. He believed in me." His jaw clenched. "And I let him down."

She nodded in understanding. "When the clan chose me as the next Bear, it felt like all the weight of that history was pressing down on me."

He cocked his head. "Did you say that you grew up on a reservation?" She nodded. "What was that like?"

She shrugged. "It was… normal. At least for me. My family didn't have much, but compared to our neighbors we actually were okay."

"I grew up in Philly," he told her. "Before the War, Grandfather lived on tribal land, but once he returned, he decided to move off the reservation and into the city to look for work. Since then…" He shrugged. "It's a lot easier to just… try to fit in." He scoffed derisively. "Whenever people at school find out my heritage, they are shocked. They ask if I want to play 'Cowboys and Indians,' or if my parents work at a casino – they don't, by the way; my father is a stockbroker."

"Or else the 'What kind of Indian?'" Ruth mocked, making a face in disgust. "I swear, it's almost enough to drive you crazy sometimes!"

He nodded in agreement. "You get any of that here?" he wondered.

She frowned, giving a half-nod. "A little," she admitted. "But not quite as bad. I think here it's still seen as 'exotic,' but anything American is 'exotic' and 'a little stupid or weird.' So we don't stick out so much."

"How about in the American Miraculous Team?" he asked curiously. "Are you the only American?"

She furrowed her brows in thought. "No… or at least, not by design. We pull from all over," she explained. "But we lost quite a few to the Tarasque."

He hummed in understanding. "We did, also," he told her. "But there are at least a few other heroes – like us, I mean – in the United Heroez. Not in Philly… but elsewhere." He frowned. "You ever get tired of it? Of being pigeonholed into that specific role for your life?"

Ruth looked down, concentrating on the question. "No," she finally told him. "I don't think I do. It's a part of who I am. It's the reason why I'm here right now. Do I wish some things were different? Yes, but I wouldn't change that part of me."

He nodded. "I can agree with that," he allowed. "But I have to admit: I'll feel a lot better and more content with it once my people's miraculous has been recovered!"

"Then let's hope we get there sooner than later."