Author's disclaimer: Jim, Blair, Jarod and Buffy Summers aren't mine. Neither is the FBI, or China. Although that would be cool. Author's notes: Written in less than an hour, un-beta'd and silly.

Major Crush by Livia 05/14/99

A couple of months later, they made a TV movie about it. Jennifer Love Hewitt played me-- you remember her character, the pretty research assistant who helped the hunky museum curator save about a billion dollars' worth of ancient Chinese artifacts? They got this totally cute actor off some WB cop show to play the hero, but anyone who's seen Dr. Sandburg knows he's much cuter in real life... especially when he smiles... mmm... Anyway, I'm getting distracted. Let me start at the beginning-- at the Cascade Art Museum. I'd volunteered there in high school, handing out audio-tape guides and checking coats. I was a college sophomore, doing an internship with Dr. Sandburg, the head of the Asian Art wing. Besides being cute, Dr. Sandburg is a pretty fascinating guy. Apparently he and his mom lived in Japan for a while when he was a kid, hence his interest in Asian art. He'd gotten his doctorate early, but being the curator of his own wing-- it was still a pretty big responsibility for a guy only seven years older than me. And Dr. Sandburg didn't even look twenty-nine most of the time, what with his long hair, and how he always talked about everything with such charm and enthusiasm, and the sexy way he rolled his sleeves up to just before his elbows, and... Okay, I admit it, I was an intern with a major huge crush on Dr. Blair Sandburg. My boss. Sigh. So I had a major case of Monica. I was always really professional. I loved my job and I didn't wanna ruin it just 'cause my heart skipped a beat every time my boss left a shirt button undone... And eventually, going to work and seeing Dr. Sandburg was like working next to the 18th century blue celadon vase, or the Haida wooden horse. Just one more astonishingly beautiful, utterly untouchable work of art. And if you think I'm exaggerating with the 'work of art' comment, well then, you never saw him in faded jeans, bent over a three-foot-tall wooden crate, sweaty, face smudged from digging around in the museum basement all day... But I'm getting away from the point of my story. It was about eleven-thirty on a Friday night. Nobody was really supposed to be in the museum-- Dr. Sandburg and I had decided on the spur of the moment to stay after hours. We were cataloging a new shipment of jade figurines that had just gotten in. There were about fifty, all told, very tiny and intricate, and Dr. Sandburg wanted to make sure they were all labeled correctly. I wondered a little why he didn't have a date or something-- but then, he spent most of his free time at the museum, like me. (I wish I could say something dramatic, like "The first clue something was wrong was a prickly feeling in the air, and the hair standing up on the back of my neck--" but the truth is, the first clue I had that something was wrong was the two guys busting into the office with guns.) They were wearing dark jumpsuits, but no masks. I recognized one of them immediately-- Calvin Adams, tall and wiry, a jittery guy with coal-black hair and pale skin. He'd been a night watchman at the museum for years, and I'd always thought he was kind of creepy. No real reason, I guess-- what my mom would call women's intuition, and I called bad vibes. The other man was taller and older than Calvin, and built solid, with muscled arms and shoulders. He had brown hair in a buzz, and hard blue eyes the color of the celadon vase in the south hall. His mouth was set tightly, and his eyes narrowed when he saw us, kneeling there with our clipboards and labels. Dr. Sandburg stood up, startled. "Calvin? What the--" "Shut the fuck up!" Calvin snarled, pointing his gun at Dr. Sandburg's head. I gasped loudly. "Goddammit, this place was supposed to be empty!" growled the blue-eyed man. "I thought it would be man!" Calvin said shakily. "Fuck, Jim, now they've seen us--" There was a shout from outside-- "Hey, guys, what the hell's taking so long?" "Nothing!" the blue-eyed man, Jim, responded immediately, and he touched Calvin's shoulder lightly, looking into his eyes. "You go on. Tell Alex this room's secure." He glanced at us with disdain. "No need to mention our unexpected guests." "Right," said Calvin, taking a breath, and grinned conspiriatorially. "Don't want her getting edgy, pulling out... You'll, uh, take care of it, then?" Jim nodded coolly, and Calvin glanced around at us one last time. "No--!" I gasped as he left the room, and Jim raised his gun. "Just keep quiet, now, the both of you," he said, but he was looking at Dr. Sandburg, not me. Personally, I was glad enough of that. "Who the hell are you?" Dr. Sandburg demanded. "I'm a career criminal and I'm not having the greatest day. Take a hint and shut your trap." Jim responded curtly. Dr. Sandburg spread his hands as if to calm the other man. "Look... hey, man, think about this for a second. You don't have to do this. When Calvin doesn't show up for work they'll know he was in on the robbery, and they're going to be able to ID you anyway." Jim stepped closer, grabbing a handful of Dr. Sandburg's shirt, and pressed the gun up underneath his chin. "I said shut up, Blue Eyes," he said roughly. Which was funny because the second the gun had gotten in his personal space, Dr. Sandburg had started breathing hard, his eyes were squeezed shut in panic-- which I didn't blame him for, I mean, gun! I guess Jim must have noticed what color they were earlier. "Killing us is only going to make things harder on you in the long run." Dr. Sandburg managed to spit out. "Besides, they'd hear the gunshots for blocks..." Jim let go of his shirt then and stepped back a little and just stared at Dr. Sandburg, like he didn't know quite what to say to that. It gave me a little hope, like maybe he wasn't going to shoot us? And then those cool eyes flicked to the crate where I'd left my clipboard, and the razor-edged box cutter I'd been using to open some of the smaller artifact containers-- and I went white as I realized maybe there were worse things than getting shot. My breath caught in my throat as Jim stepped over to the crate, but he only picked up a roll of duct tape, tossing it to me with the hand that wasn't holding the gun. I caught it automatically. "You. Tape the Professor's hands behind his back, and do it right. No tricks." I glanced at Dr. Sandburg, and he nodded, so I obeyed. My hands weren't shaking for some funny reason, and I wondered why not. "She's only twenty-one," I heard him say softly as I worked behind his back. "What amount of money could be worth her life?" I hate to admit it, but I blushed. As soon as I was done taping Dr. Sandburg's wrists, Jim came over and grabbed the front of his shirt, pushing him down to sit on top of a low crate pushed against the wall. Without his arms it would be hard for Dr. Sandburg to get up again. Then he set his gun on a crate on the other side of the room, and turned to me. "No funny business or your boss gets it," he warned, and I winced as one heavy hand closed on my shoulder and turned me around. He wasn't rough, though, and even the tape on my wrists wasn't uncomfortably tight. When he was done he took my shoulders and settled me down, surprisingly gently, to sit by Dr. Sandburg. I leaned into him instinctively, and he sort of angled his body towards me. "It's going to be okay," he reassured me quietly. "I hope so," muttered Jim, and Dr. Sandburg blinked at him as he ripped off a length of tape and plastered it matter-of-factly over my mouth. He was measuring another piece, for Dr. Sandburg, when there was a sudden crash and shout from the other room-- Jim dropped the duct tape and stepped away, grabbing his gun. He was moving to the doorway when a petite blond figure moved in, gun held at the ready, and shouted "Nobody move! Federal agent!" I watched, wide-eyed, as Jim turned, gun in hand. The petite blonde agent surveyed the room calmly, glanced at Jim and then at us. "Whatcha got here, Agent Ellison?" "AGENT?!" I yelped, but what with the tape it came out more like "aampth?!" Doctor Sandburg and I both stared as Jim turned to the blonde and spoke to her familiarly. His posture straightened slightly, and even his voice was different-- slightly apologetic? "Couple of civilians got in the way." he said. "It was pretty dicey for a second-- I thought Calvin was gonna pop 'em. Everything okay out there?" As he spoke I realized I was hearing sirens outside, in the parking lot, and the commotion of several voices in the hall. Outside the storage room, I saw Calvin and a couple of other men in jumpsuits being led away by people I assumed were FBI agents, in suits and trenchcoats. "Yeah, we're good," said the blonde agent. "Jarod gave the signal when they cracked the crate." "Where were the microchips?" Jim asked intently, and Dr. Sandburg cleared his throat loudly. "Excuse me?" The blond agent looked at Jim, and smirked. "Oh-- um-- damn." Putting the gun down, Jim reached for the tape across Dr. Sandburg's mouth. Their eyes locked, and Jim hesitated for a moment, his fingers barely brushing Dr. Sandburg's face. "Um," he said, almost shyly, "uh-- Agent James Ellison, FBI." He ripped the tape off swiftly. "Doctor Blair Sandburg." said Dr. Sandburg hoarsely. "You're the Doctor Sandburg!? I thought you were a research assistant--" Agent Ellison cut himself off quickly. "I'm sorry about all this, sir." He glanced in my direction, then at the blond agent. "Summers, could you..." "Yes sir," She came over and peeled the tape off my mouth, then set about untying me. I licked my sore lips, and she brushed my hair out of my face before attending to the tape around my wrists. I shivered slightly as she worked-- I mean, I wouldn't have said it before, when I thought he was a criminal, but Agent Ellison wasn't all that bad looking. Not to mention buff. And Agent Summers wasn't bad herself. I mean yum. Totally wow. Just a couple of inches shorter than me, with an elfin kinda face that still managed to have a stubborn set to it, and capable hands. She seemed kind of young for a federal agent, but what the heck. "Buffy Summers, federal agent," she said, offering me her hand as she straightened up. "Sorry for the inconvenience, miss. You all right?" "Uh, hi. I mean yeah. I'm okay." I stammered, and Agent Summers smiled and led me out of the office, leaving Agent Ellison and Doctor Sandburg alone. (It turned out later that Calvin and the people he worked for weren't really there to rob the museum-- they were looking for some kind of super secret spy info that had been smuggled into the country in a shipment of scrolls. Agent Ellison and another undercover agent, Jarod something, had infiltrated the gang over a period of weeks. It was Jarod who was actually in the room when the gang had found the microfilm or whatever.) So anyway, in the movie, Agent Ellison apologizes, and Doctor Sandburg says "Hey, that's ok, just doing your job for America, Agent." Or something like that anyway. And when people ask me if it was accurate, well. I just tell them that Agent Summers and I weren't in the room after that, so I really couldn't say if the TV movie got it right or not. But the truth is... the next day, when I went back into the storage room, to get my backpack and stuff? I noticed I'd left my tape recorder running through the whole ordeal. I didn't mention it to the writers who interviewed me for the movie, or the federal agents who interviewed me about the break-in. I have a pretty good memory, after all, and I could pretty much tell the story word-for-word. And I did. Except for the last part, the one that was on the last minute or so of the tape in my bag. Which went something like this... // Agent Ellison: <ripping duct tape sounds> Uh, Doctor Sandburg. On behalf of the FBI, I just want to apologize for any-- Doctor Sandburg: Hey, man, it's cool. Little spy games, we just got caught up in the middle, right? Agent Ellison: Little spy ga-- <clears his throat> Look, I, uh, I'd really like it if-- I'd like to make things up to you, a little. If I can... buy you dinner? Doctor Sandburg: <pause> Wait a minute man, lemme get this straight-- on behalf of the FBI, you want to buy me dinner. <long pause> You cook, Agent Ellison? Agent Ellison: I've been known to. Doctor Sandburg: <paper ripping, scribbling sounds> Tomorrow night at seven. My place. I don't eat red meat and, oddly enough, I don't care much for Chinese food, either. Agent Ellison: I'll be there. Doctor Sandburg: <sound of footsteps as he walks away> Good... oh, and James? Agent Ellison: Yes? Doctor Sandburg: Leave the duct tape home. // So, just between us-- yeah, the TV movie wasn't totally accurate. But what the hell, I mean, I'm no Jennifer Love Hewitt, either. And, like I said before, Dr. Sandburg really is a lot more good-looking in real life. Especially when he smiles. He smiles a lot more nowadays-- like whenever Agent Ellison calls, or stops by the museum to take him out to lunch. Or whenever Dr. Sandburg walks by the blue celadon vase in the south hall. It's pretty cute, actually. Agent Summers and I have been keeping in touch, and she agrees with me; apparently, Agent Ellison is just as smitten with Dr. Sandburg. I mean, I thought I had a crush, but... wow. [end]