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 Three: Daisies and Daffodils* * * * * *

The Kleenex box rocked protectively in Sydney's arms. Photo albums, teddy bears, finger paints, and other miscellaneous items were randomly scattered on the dining room table. Only one two more items remained in the cardboard prison, but the last two memories were the few connections to her past that she regretted the most.

Ding Dong. Opening the door, she fell into strong muscular arms. Tears poured from her lamenting soul sponging into her savior's shirt. After a moment of unleashing pent up qualms, she released her clenched fists and accepted the tissue pressed against her nose

"It'll be okay. I'm here now," soothed the voice, "Where is it?"

Like frightened children, they cautiously approached the box. Near the base resided a glazed snapshot. The masculine hand extracted it from its grave and twirled the photograph to the upside. In a hushed whisper she spoke, "Michael, she wasn't there." Exposing the picture to the light, they stared at the girl clasping her mascara soaked dress.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Sydney, hurry up your ride's going to be here any minute," cried the nanny from the foot of the stairs. "Sydney." When she didn't hear a response she slinked over to the bedroom door and laid her ear to the wood. Genuinely concerned about the muffled sobbing, she knocked on the door, "Sydney, can I come in?"

Before, she could even retort, the door flung open as Rosa treaded over to the huddled figure. Rosa lifted the frills and lace from the sulking teenager's face. Rivers of mascara marring her blemish-free skin. "Why aren't you dressed?"

"I'm not going," she exclaimed hotly as she crossed her arms.

"Why?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this! I need her here!"

"Who?"

"I need my mother, understand. After all, Prom Night is one of the most memorable days of my life. I need her to fix my hair, apply my makeup, and reassure me that everything's going to be fine. I want her to wait for me as I make an entrance down the stairs holding her bouquet of daisies and daffodils bombarding me with flashes. But she'll never see me happy because she's dead. And I hate her for it!" With that she threw the dress to the floor and stormed from the room.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

".I just blew up at her for no reason at all. It wasn't her fault, Mom wasn't there," she concluded as she walked down memory lane.

Michael hesitated and decided to go for it. He wrapped his hands over hers and stared straight into her eyes, "Sydney, I think you really you need to tell your mother how you feel, not me."

She simply nodded and picked up the last piece of her past. Walking out the door, she uttered, "I'll be home late tonight."

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Last Chapter: Sydney confronts Irina.