Growing Up Without you
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood.
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...
* * * * * *Chapter Two: How Much Do You Know * * * * * *
Brushing the tears and photograph aside, Sydney climbed deeper into her box and mind. A worn out school project lay abandoned by its owner, now wrinkled with age. Flipping through the contents of the report, she noticed how miniscule her family tree was. On one side was her father's family, down from Great-Aunt Isabella to Jack. But on the other half, quickly jotted into the slot was Laura Bristow in a tiny scrawl. Before that sixth grade day, it never occurred to her how little she knew about her mother.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Did she have a grandmother? Did Mommy play with dolls? Where did she live?" The eleven year old approached her weary, almost gray haired father. His lips pursed as he tried to think of an answer, but not even he knew his wife's intimate personal life, just false lies created by analysts.
"What do you know so far?" he asked monotonously without even looking up from the report in front of him. His coffee now forgotten and cold was filled to the brim.
"Not much," she shrugged.
"Then that's all you need to know now go off and play with Rosa," he responded as he checked off an item on the paper.
"I can't Rosa has the day off. Plus, the project's do tomorrow and all I have is Laura Bristow," Sydney whined.
"Don't ever say that name again." His voice bordered a threat and that on the verge of tears. "Please just leave it at that," he reached over for the half empty bottle of Vodka and gulped the remnants.
Sydney muttered under her breath that he shouldn't drink, but the Jack was oblivious to her daughter's presence. He was so submerged in his grief to notice Sydney confiscated the coffee mug and vacant bottle. As she neared the study door, she couldn't help, but think that he was suffering more than her. Peering through the crack one final time, she observed Jack clasp his bowed head in his hands and grieve for the woman he loved. A tear streamed down his palm and before it reached his rolled up cuff, the door closed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next chapter is near.
~Stephanie~
Summary: Everyone knows what Irina missed out on, but Sydney has thoughts of her own childhood.
Disclaimer: ... I own my coffeemaker, mirror, bed, tv, laptop, but not the whole Alias idea. Otherwise I'd own a car, a pool, a mansion, etc...
* * * * * *Chapter Two: How Much Do You Know * * * * * *
Brushing the tears and photograph aside, Sydney climbed deeper into her box and mind. A worn out school project lay abandoned by its owner, now wrinkled with age. Flipping through the contents of the report, she noticed how miniscule her family tree was. On one side was her father's family, down from Great-Aunt Isabella to Jack. But on the other half, quickly jotted into the slot was Laura Bristow in a tiny scrawl. Before that sixth grade day, it never occurred to her how little she knew about her mother.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Did she have a grandmother? Did Mommy play with dolls? Where did she live?" The eleven year old approached her weary, almost gray haired father. His lips pursed as he tried to think of an answer, but not even he knew his wife's intimate personal life, just false lies created by analysts.
"What do you know so far?" he asked monotonously without even looking up from the report in front of him. His coffee now forgotten and cold was filled to the brim.
"Not much," she shrugged.
"Then that's all you need to know now go off and play with Rosa," he responded as he checked off an item on the paper.
"I can't Rosa has the day off. Plus, the project's do tomorrow and all I have is Laura Bristow," Sydney whined.
"Don't ever say that name again." His voice bordered a threat and that on the verge of tears. "Please just leave it at that," he reached over for the half empty bottle of Vodka and gulped the remnants.
Sydney muttered under her breath that he shouldn't drink, but the Jack was oblivious to her daughter's presence. He was so submerged in his grief to notice Sydney confiscated the coffee mug and vacant bottle. As she neared the study door, she couldn't help, but think that he was suffering more than her. Peering through the crack one final time, she observed Jack clasp his bowed head in his hands and grieve for the woman he loved. A tear streamed down his palm and before it reached his rolled up cuff, the door closed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next chapter is near.
~Stephanie~
