It's good to be back.

I haven't written fanfiction in a while. I got busy, and unfortunately, this had to take a backseat. But I came up with this little drabble, so I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own National Treasure.

Ian walked down the hall of the National Achieves. He had just visited the Rotunda, and was disappointed. The Declaration of Independence had not been on display, as he had thought. Not that he didn't believe what Ben Gates told him, he just wanted to see it with his own eyes.

As he walked down the hall at an easy gait, he saw a woman. She was wearing a white, short-shelved blouse, a kaki, knee-length skirt, and tan heels. She was a carrying a stack of stuff that was composed of manila file folders, loose papers, and a binder or two. Her hair was piled at the back of her head in a sloppy, chaotic bun. There was a number two pencil randomly stuck in the mess of hair, as if it was holding the entire thing in place.

Ian smiled and picked up his pace. "Hey Louisa!"

The woman turned to see who was calling her, and smiled when she was the tall, broad, sandy-haired Brit jogging toward her. "Hey Ian!"

Ian stopped in front of her, panting a bit from the length of hallway that he had to cover. "Louisa," he swallowed. "What are you doin' here?"

"I work here." Louisa said, smiling and clutching the stack of paper products to her chest.

"Oh really?" Ian smiled and gave a half-laugh. Both were surprised to see each other, and they weren't quite sure how to react.

"Yeah; I work in the Achieves."

"Really? Well, that's cool, that's cool." Ian straightened up and swung his arms, letting one fist hit the other hand. There was a pause.

"What brings you here to D.C.?" Louisa asked.

"Oh, you know, just wanderin' about. Yeah, I came here to see the Declaration." Ian said. "It wasn't on display, though."

"I think it's having routine maintenance done on it today," said Louisa. "Sorry."

"Ah, it's okay." Ian looked around. "Unless. . ."

Louisa tiled her head. "Unless what?"

"Oh, it's nothin'. Nothin' at all."
"Ian, what is it?"

"Well, you work here," he gestured around at the hallway. "So, maybe you could get me a . . . backstage pass, yeah?" He gave her a hopeful look.

It took a minute for Louisa to understand what he was asking. "No." She shook her head. "Nope. I can't do it."

"Aw, c'mon, Louisa . . ."

"Ian, I'm not authorized to give access to the Preservation Room. It's not my department." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Well, it's a'right. I understand." Ian glanced at the stack of papers in her arms. "Those look heavy. Can I carry those for you?"

"Thanks," Louisa shifted the papers to a more manageable position. "But I got it."

Ian watched her walk away. He stuffed his hands in his pant pockets. "Right," he muttered, turned, and walked away.

reviews would be appreciated after my hiatus.