This is my newest Alias FanFiction story! I hope you guys like this one!
Title: That Summer
Author: Aryn (that's me!)
Summary: It's summer and Sydney comes back to the home she left behind. To the things that mattered. Reunions. Paparazzi. Conspiracy. Hate. Love? All before college. Awkward? You know it. An AU, S/V fic.
Summary Background: Sydney returns home to Los Angeles for the summer before she starts college. Where was she? you might ask. Well I really want you guys to give this story a chance, so don't judge this one before you read it. Sydney is a young rising star in Hollywood. I know a lot of people do or don't write this kind of fic, but I really want to give this a try. Okay. So during her senior year of high school, Syd went to Vancouver B.C., Canada to shoot a television series. That's her entire senior year of high school, the supposedly funnest year of high school. And she missed it all. Her family and friends are upset about this. Oh! And Syd and Vaughn absolutely loathe each other. Any questions? Good.
Setting: Los Angeles, another teenager setting. Sorry, I can relate better to this age. Nevermind. We'll make this a right-before college setting. It's still kind of adolescence, right? RIGHT!
Disclaimer: I do not own Alias. Alias belongs to J.J. Abrams. Boo hoo hoo. I know. But I do own anything you do not recognize, so THERE HA HA! Muwah. I got the title from Sarah Dessen's That Summer. So its not mine either. And Michelynne McGuire is not mine either. She's from the Starlet...
Rating: T or PG-13. Just to be safe here.
Here is the very first chapter of That Summer! I demand feedback!
"Yes...first class...thank you so much...uh huh...you too...bye," the woman sighed and clicked the off button on the cordless phone. She plopped herself on the couch and examined her clipboard. Being the personal assistant to the fastest rising star in Hollywood was no cake.
The woman removed her glasses picked at the muck that was forming at the corner of her eyes. She had been deprive of sleep for almost a week.
"Monique?" a younger voice asked from the next room over. "Was that the airline?"
Monique got up from her spot on the couch, and wandered into the room where the other voice was coming from.
"Yeah. They were just calling to confirm your flight for tomorrow morning," Monique answered, leaning on the door frame of Sydney's bedroom. Sydney was busy packing her suitcase full of everything she had brought with her the previous summer. The new television series she was filming had just wrapped up shooting for the season, and she was returning home to Los Angeles. "Your plane leaves for LA at 9:00."
"Thanks Monique. Really, thank you," Sydney smiled warmly. Her personal assistment was like the only good friend she had up there in Canada. Well, besides her fellow celebrity friend, Michelynne McGuire, who was acting with her in the new television series. But that was different. Michelynne had also been promoting a new movie she was in, and wouldn't be able to accompany Sydney during production. She and Michelynne were both so caught up in work, that only Sydney and Monique could spend so much time together. That was typical Hollywood.
"It's no problem," Monique smiled back. Sydney frowned when she zipped up her last suitcase. "What's wrong?"
Sydney collapsed on her bed and sighed.
"I haven't seen my family since last Thanksgiving, and I haven't talked to them in two months," Sydney said.
It was true. She was almost completely isolated from her family and friends. Being away that far of a distance was a major chance for Sydney. Just about a year before she located to Vancouver B.C., Sydney was a fresh face actress who was just-picked by a Hollywood producer at her school play. Sure it was the chance of a life time, to have a big break in the world of professional acting, but Sydney was more of a homebody. Caring more about others than herself.
"Well I'm sure they'll be delighted to see you Syd," Monique straightened up from her position on the door frame.
"No, they won't. They've never been proud that I have chosen this," Sydney gestured to the rest of the bedroom with high-end furniture and linens. "For what I want to do."
All her life, Sydney had been trying to find something that she was good at. Sure she had sports: track, soccer, and her kick-boxing. But sports wasn't the area in life she wanted to pursue in the long run. She wanted something deeper. Something that could involve her skills that others enjoyed. And when she was scouted at the school play in which she had the leading role, the fist of opportunity knocked on her door. Finally, she had found something that she excelled in, and other people thought so too. Her family was a little bit less understanding.
Irina, her mother, and Nadia, her sister, had been a bit more accepting of the fact that Sydney had chosen acting so early in her young life. Maybe because Irina was an actress herself, but quit the business to settle down. But her father, Jack. Well Jack, when he looked at his daughter, he only saw the ideal business woman. The ideal business woman she never pined to be.
Not even her own best friend, Francie Calfo, understood that this was what she wanted in life. Not even Will Tippin, her other best friend, had really understood that acting was something about herself that she was proud of. Though, you would be angry too if your best friend moved away for a year, just for their career.
And then there was Eric Weiss. The guy she met a few months before she came to Vancouver. The two of them became designated drinking buddies for all the parties they attended. Their friendship was almost strictly based on humor and fun. But when she left, Weiss was left to find someone else to get drunk with. That person would to have be Michael Vaughn, Eric's best friend. Michael Vaughn could probably care a hell of a lot less what Sydney did with her life. And she could care so much less about what the jackass wanted to do with his. And that was the way it had always been between Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn.
Sydney knew all too well that when she moved back home, an emotional battle would take place.
"They always expected me to be something more," Sydney continued. "I had good grades when I went to school, I was captain of the girl's soccer team, I did things for the community, and I spent a lot of quality time with my family and friends. And then I got the lead in the school play. The part that I had wanted the moment I let my eyes on the script." Sydney let out a small yawn, which she quickly covered with her hand. "Then a phone call from some producer guy and I'm here. And I missed out on my entire senior year of high school."
"How do you know you missed the whole school year?" Monique asked, skimming her clipboard.
"My class graduated Friday."
"Didn't you get your diploma yet? I'm sure the tutor would have sent it..."
"No Monique. Having the tutor isn't the same as spending my last year of high school with my friends."
"You'll see them all before college in the fall."
"It won't be the same. I missed out on one of the most important experiences of my adolescent life. For a television show."
Monique rubbed her neck nervously. She knew very well that Sydney was right, and felt dire.
The girl had missed out on a wonderful experience.
Sydney lay in bed that night.
The press conference she attended just hours earlier, spoke of the up-coming production of her new television series, The Laws of a Family. The Laws of a Family held plot about the life of two parents who were both international spies. One working for the CIA and the other for the KGB. The catch? Both of the parents were on different sides of a world-wide, but hushed, drug war. To the naked eye, the two spies were the perfect parents, living in the perfect society with two perfect teenage daughters. Like something you would see in the Stepford Wives. A television show that one could go home and watch with the family. A show that a family as a whole could easily relate to.
The show focused more on the strain of a relationship between a parent and their child. How it was possible to come through the obstacles of life, whatever the conditions. Something that Sydney could participate in, be a part of. But that was the Hollywood part of Sydney. Not the Real-Life Sydney. The Real-Life Sydney would have to face her own reality in the next few hours. The reality of a family she was convinced could care less about her.
What if she went home, and no one wanted anything to do with her? Would the people she knew and loved be the same as they were before she left? Would they still care for Sydney? Would they still agree her with her current lifestyle? The career she wanted to pursue in life?
Sydney did not know. All she knew, was she wanted to be sleeping in her own bed in the comforts of her Beverly Hills home. She would do anything for a little rememberence from home. She'd even be happy to see the house maid, Genevieve. As much as she would hate to admit, Sydney would be delighted to even see Michael Vaughn. The nimrod was a part of her home life.
Anything for a sense of normalcy.
The things Sydney would do just to be considered normal again. Which was the reason for the hiatus from her job.
Hiatus. Might as well be called vacation, because that's what Sydney needed. A vacation.
A vacation to the hell of her life.
Home "Sweet" Home.
"Now boarding first class sections for flight three-sixty-two to Los Angeles."
Sydney moaned from underneath her large hat and aviator sunglasses, the day's disguise. Standing up, she signaled for Monique to board the plane with her.
Handing the woman at the gate the tickets, she and Monique walked down the ramp to the plane. Sydney somehow managed to slide pass the paparazzi who were waiting for her at the gate. She didn't quite know how they got past security, but she knew better than to not think that they couldn't know her schedule. In Hollywood, someone was always watching. Luckily, she had privacy from the media once she passed through the gate. But that was just the media. There was bound to be people who could recognize her from one of her films.
She took off her large hat, and ran her finger through her brown hair, twisting at her bangs. Then placing her aviators on the top of her head. Wearing diguises in public was one of the confusing sides of Hollywood. "But they will keep you safe sweetheart." Safe, but not happy or free. If disguises were needed for her privacy, then so be it. The thing about wearing disguises was, Sydney became more confident. Almost as if she could be a different person. Wearing the diguises was much like wearing costumes on a film set. She could be anyone, anytime.
But the thing about Sydney.
She just didn't know exactly who she really was.
Monique offered Sydney the aisle seat, which the young actress had no problem taking. She always liked to see what was going on. And she didn't feel trapped. Besides, she'd be able to get to the labratory more easily.
"Hi," a small voice said nervously to a nearly napping Sydney, a short twenty minutes after take off.
Sydney straightened up in her seat and opened up her eyes completely to find a girl around six years old staring at her with glorified amazement. Her soft blond hair lighting up her almost-clear, blue eyes. Easy to say, the young girl was star struck.
"Hey there," Sydney smiled, glancing at the pen and paper tightly secured in the girl's small hand. She wanted an autograph.
The little girl pushed her pen and paper toward Sydney with her jaw slightly ajar. Maybe because the hottest teen star in Hollywood had just said hello to her.
Sydney smiled, gladly accepting the pen and paper just handed to her. She loved signing autographs. Not for the publicity, but for the love. The love. The love of her adoring fans. That was the only thing that got her up in the morning. It wasn't about the money. No, not for Sydney. It was the love.
"What's your name sweetie?" she asked the little girl in a sugar-coated voice.
"J-j-Jessica," the little girl managed to whisper. Sydney just chuckled.
"How old are you Jessica?" Sydney asked, beginning to write on the paper little Jessica handed her just a minute earlier.
"Five and a half," Jessica replied proudly. "I really loved your last movie. I saw it two times in a row at the theater when it came out."
"Well it was a lot of fun making. I'm glad you enjoyed it," Sydney smiled.
"You're my idol."
Sydney laughed warmly handing Jessica the paper with her autograph on it.
"Thank you," little Jessica gulped with admiration.
"Anytime kiddo. Take care," Sydney called after Jessica as she returned to her seat. She smiled to herself. She sunk back into her seat to try and nap. But she was interuppted.
"Hey."
Sydney looked out of the corner of her eye to find a man in his mid-twenties leaning across the aisle from his seat, smiling.
"I'm Kent," the man continued.
"Can I help you?" she asked bluntly, closing her eyes again.
"Do you have the time?" Kent asked.
"Uh," Sydney slurred, looking at her watch. "9:35."
"No, the time to write down my number."
Sydney rolled her eyes.
"Actually, no. I don't. Sorry," Sydney stated flatly. It was hard for her to believe they actually let perves like this jackass to sit in first class.
"Aww. Come on. You signed a piece of paper for that little girl. What about me?"
"She was a fan."
"Then what am I?" Kent smirked.
"A jackass."
"Oh baby. That hurt."
"I'm sure you'll get over it."
A stewardess pass down the aisle before Kent started talking again. Sydney politely stopped her with a tap on the arm.
"Yes miss, can I hel-oh my. You're Sydney Bristow!" the stewardess gasped, quite surprised. Sydney pulled down on her arm so she could whisper into the woman's ear.
"Hey, can you do something for me?" Sydney asked.
"Why certainly Miss Bristow."
"Can you see to the removal of the man sitting across the aisle from me?" Sydney inquired, still whispering.
"Absolutely," the stewardess said before turning on her heal to talk to another stewardess at the front of the plane. But Sydney tugged on her arm before she could walk away.
"Oh, and you get something else for me too?" Sydney whispered.
"Yes."
"Do you think you could get me some ginger ale, with a little," Sydney gulped, "a little bit of alcohol?" Sydney wasn't one to drink alcohol on any kind of basis after she went into showbusiness. But when she was younger, she had taken a sip of her mother's wine and had been delighted with the taste ever since. Sydney was not an alcoholic anymore. These days, she just had some kind of alcoholic beverage on rare occasions. The rare occasions being stressful occasions.
"Uh, Miss Bristow, if my facts are correct, you're only eighteen, and I'm afraid I can't serve you an alcoholic beverage," the stewardess whispered back.
Sydney slyly slipped a fifty dollar bill into the stewardess' hand before saying, "I'm sure it will be fine. Just make sure that little girl a few rows back doesn't see a thing." She didn't want little Jessica getting the wrong impression of her favorite actress.
The stewardess nodded before walking back up the aisle.
Once the stewardess left, Kent leaned over the arm of his seat.
"How about that number now?" he pressed again. The guy obviously did not get the hint.
Another stewardess came, this time a male, and was accompanied by the first stewardess.
"Sir, could you come with me please?" the male stewardess asked.
"Uh, I don't understand. What's going on?" Kent questioned, quite confused.
"Just come with me," the male stewardess said, lifting Kent out of his seat, and pulling him to the back of the plane.
As Kent's complaints dissolved into the natural noises of the cabin, the first stewardess quickly came up to Sydney with her 'ginger ale'.
"Miss Sydney, here's your ginger ale," the stewardess said. Then slowly mouthing, "with alcohol."
Sydney quickly glanced to see if her assistant noticed what the stewardess had said, but all she saw was Monique, fast asleep.
"Thank you."
"Anytime Miss Bristow. Let me know if there is anything else you need."
"Sure thing."
After taking a sip of her beverage, Sydney slipped her headphones on, losing herself in the smooth tunes of The Ataris.
A buzzing sound woke Sydney from her gentle sleep.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at LAX."
When the plane had come to a complete stop, Sydney began coming up with all the scenarios of what could happen when she returned home. a) Her friends and family would be more than delighted to see Sydney when she arrived home b) Her friends and family would not even bother to happily greet Sydney or c) Her friends and family wouldn't even give her a chance to explain her life before hounding her with accusations.
Some how, Sydney thought to herself, option a seems out of the question.
Sydney stepped off the plane, pulling her aviators over her eyes to keep up her diguise. But she didn't bother to fiddle with her hat. She figured the paparazzi wouldn't even recognize her since she hadn't been home in little over half of a year. Getting by those photo-prone junkies would be cake. Or so she thought.
With a on-the-phone-Monique in tow, Sydney made her way for the baggage claim.
"Sydney! Wait!" Monique hollered, slapping her Nokia flip phone shut. Sydney spun around and threw Monique an pointed look. She could have easily given away Sydney's diguise.
"Sorry," Monique pleaded rushing over to Sydney. "But Dixon already picked up your luggage and he's waiting outside in the limo." Dixon, Monique's brother and the Bristow family's personal limo driver. His first name wasMarcus, but his surname always stuck. So therefore, he was just Dixon. Cool and Collective Dixon.
"It's fine. Did you need a ride home?"
Monique looked at a man suspiciously clutching his camera on a bench, near a water fountain. Dismissing the man as a tourist, she finally answered Sydney, "No, I'll catch a cab home."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, don't worry about it. Do you mind if I walk you to your ride?"
"Sure."
As the assistant and rising star walked through the concorde, Monique kept glancing back at the man who was sitting by the water fountain. He wasn't sitting anymore, he was following them both. Sydney saw the look of concern on Monique's face and quickly glance behind them.
"Shit," she hissed. "Why can't they just give me a break?"
"It's Hollywood Sydn-"
"I want to hurl that jackass's camera at that security guard who's uniform makes him look like a cross-dresser."
Monique coughed.
"What? Does that make me a bad person?"
"No, it just makes you normal." Sydney smiled. Normal. That's how she wanted things to be again.
The two were finally at the sliding doors at the front of the airport where they both saw Dixon waiting outside the limo, back door wide open. Sydney quickly turned to hug Monique before she got to the limo, her thanks for accompanying her in Canada. Sydney's later appreciation would be to send Monique a fruit basket and a gift certificate to any day-spa of her choice. But for now, a hug was all she could do.
Sydney stepped closer to the opened door of the limo. Turning around to say one last goodbye to Monique, she saw the photographer. Along with four others.
"She's back!" one of the paparazzi shouted. 'She' being Sydney.
Before getting into the limo, Sydney turned and flashed the cameras a big toothy smile-and her middle finger. Once she was inside, Dixon quickly shut the door and ran around to get in the drivers seat.
"Wonder how much the bastard will get for that one," Sydney growled. Battling the paparazzi was not how she planned to spend her vacation.
Dixon just smiled as he pulled into the traffic.
"So how are you Dixon?"
"I'm actually doing quite fine Syd. It's good to see you again."
"Uh, yeah. Sorry about that back there. It's great to see you too." Dixon chuckled.
"It's good to have you back," he said.
"I'm just happy to be home. Anything to feel normal again."
"Syd, what just happened back there. Normal won't come as soon as you had hoped," he laughed light-heartedly. Dixon had been like a big brother to Sydney. Ever since she was very small. Ever since the Bristows had moved to the 90210 zipcode. He'd been there from the start. From the start of the Bristow legacy. And Sydney. She was the next generation.
"I know."
I know.
"Alright, we're almost there," Dixon said, pulling the black limo into the estate development. Sydney smiled. The young actress had been watching her hometown pass by. Beautiful Los Angeles. Sydney was back home in her 90210 zipcode.
Sure it seemed like Sydney was born into some snobby rich family who had all this money. But all that money came from success. And success was key to Sydney and her family.
Show business was something that had been Sydney's family background. Her grandfather, a Derevko, was a famous movie director back in the thirties. His wife, was an actress. The director and the actress had three daughters. All of them became actresses, but retired from the business before they married and started a family. One of those daughters was Sydney's mother, Irina. But that was Irina's Derevko lifestyle. She was now a Bristow. Irina had always been proud of Sydney's acting and drama career. But her passion had to take a backseat when she met Jack Bristow. Jack was the kind of man that cared about politics. Not entertainment. Bristow was up tight, but successful. And with his success, there came wealth. He wanted his daughter to be a lawyer when his wife gave her the courage to become the actress she knew she could be. Success and wealth. The two moral values of the Bristow-Derevko family.
And with that success and wealth, there came aspect of living comfortably. For example, the Bristow family estate.
The estate was more contemporary than it was traditional. The house itself was built around a swimming pool. It was truly a unique house and the family never spoke of searching for another one. Like it was forbidden.
"We're here," Dixon stated. He pulled the limo into wrap-around driveway in front of the Bristow household, and got out to get Sydney's luggage from the trunk. Sydney opened the door for herself and looked up at her house.
Home at last.
"You gonna be alright getting in?" Dixon asked Sydney, setting her last suitcase in front of the walkway.
"Yeah. Thanks Dixon."
"Anytime, I'll see you around," he smiled, opening the driver's door and taking his seat. With a quick nod of his head, he was driving down the driveway, leaving Sydney waving after him.
Sydney fumbled around in her tote bag for her house keys. After searching for a moment, her fingers brushed up against something with little teeth. She picked the keys she had found out of her bag and stuck them in the lock on the front door. At least she tried to stick them in the lock. The keys simply wouldn't fit. And it was hard to believe that she made the key herself and that she had used it numerous times before.
She knocked and pounded on the door, trying to get someone on the inside to open it. But no answer. There was a rustling in the bushes about ten yards away, but she ignored it and resumed her banging on the door. The rustling continued.
"Hey Princess." Sydney looking over towards the bushes to see her neighbor with his arms crossed over a garden hedge.
"What do you want Vaughn?" Sydney grumbled, starting to try other keys on the lock -since no one was opening the door.
"What? Can't I just be friendly and welcome my neighbor back home?" he asked, throwing his hands up in question.
"No."
"Hollywood not so glamorous anymore?"
"Michael, I don't see what you're picking at anymore. Just give up. It's getting old."
"Aw, Princess. Don't be so glum." Sydney glared at him. She hated that he called her 'Princess'. But she hated even more that he was her neighbor.
"Stop calling me that."
"Why?"
"It's annoying," Sydney said, still fiddling with her keys. How many keys do I have to go through just to get into my damn house?
"Princess."
"Vaughn."
"Princess."
"Sydney! You're back!" Genevieve said opening the front door, causing Sydney to drop her bag out of fright. Finally.
Vaughn chuckled from his side of the garden hedge and headed back to his own house.
"Bonjour Michael!" Genevieve waved after Vaughn noticing him walking back home.
"Bonjour Genevieve! Je dois aller maintenant," he called back.
"Au revoir dumbass!" Sydney yelled, guiding Genevieve back into the house. After slamming the door behind her, she hugged the older woman. "It's so great to be back home Genevieve."
"But it's so lovely to see you, you beautiful little girl," the maid said in a thick French accent, spinning Sydney around to get a view of the ever-changing body. Sydney giggled.
"Do you know where my parents are?"
"They took Nadia out to lunch for her birthday," Genevieve replied. Shit. I can't believe I forgot my sister's own birthday.
"Oh. I thought they knew I was coming home today," Sydney sighed, a bit confused.
"They did know," Genevieve said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handing it to Sydney. "Your mother told me to give you this."
"Merci Genevieve." And with that the French maid spun on her heel to continue on with her cleaning.
Sydney opened up the piece of paper, beginning to read the words she saw in her mother's handwriting.
Sydney Sweetheart,
We went out to celebrate Nadia's birthday and high school graduation over brunch. Sorry we couldn't be home when you arrived. We've missed you so much. We'll be home around 3:00.
Love, Mom.
Sydney smirked.
Great. I haven't seen my family in eight months, and they're out celebrating - without me. Boy, its great to be home. Yes, home.
Home Sweet Home.
A/N: How did you guys like this so far? Yay? Nay? Please review! I'll try to post visuals up on my livejournal, along with my review responses ASAP.