Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Alias characters. I do own everybody
(A/N): Ok, this is kind of a different spin on the world of Alias. This is
definitely not your average another kind of world story. This is told
through the twisted mind of Malorie Vaughn. I was just honestly becoming
sick of the average Sydney/Vaughn children type of story. So, why not make
them older? Well, that's exactly what I have done. Please enjoy and please
review. If I get enough reviews, I'll keep posting the rest of the chapters
I have written.
Remember-This isn't your average story. It's just a fun bit of reading.
I looked up and automatically knew who it was without hesitation. They are
my parents, the people who had raised me since birth. But I, Malorie
Vaughn, will finally be entering the world of marital bliss. I'll be
joining all of the other happily married 80-year-old couples out there. Not
that I'm 80 years old, because I'm not. I can only hope that my life will
be filled with much happiness. Wait, when did I turn into a Hallmark
greeting card? Who am I kidding? I know it will be! I'm marrying the most
wonderful man in the world. I shouldn't have to convince myself of that. It
must be these damn pre-wedding jitters.
My mom says that I think things through too much. Which I guess in some
aspects could be true. She says that I am her baby and that she wants this
wedding to be perfect. She says that I have to relax and just take this
whole process in stride. Easy for her to say, she isn't the one planning a
wedding for over two hundred and fifty people. On the other hand, my dad
has been a nervous wreck through this whole thing. His cell phone bill
should be through the roof, due to all the calls he's made. He keeps
saying, "Money isn't an issue". I don't think he notices how often he
checks prices and tries to bargain. I know he's trying to help though, and
I really appreciate that.
Liz, my older sister, was the one who ran my bachelorette party. Now that I
think about it, that's about all she did. Liz occasionally showed up to
poke fun at the bridesmaid dresses or the number of layers on the cake.
It's at times like these, that I wish I were an only child. But there is
one person who is worse than my sister. It's my brother Andy. He's the
oldest and the most protective. The first date I ever went on was a double
date, with none other than my brother. He's very supportive, but he tends
to over due it. He even fainted when I told him that I was engaged.
But that's not all. I have another older sister named Hillary. She is the
coolest person I know. I can talk to her about anything. She lives in
England though, so she wasn't really here for the wedding preparations. She
flew in last week though for the dress fitting and bachelorette party.
Hillary was always she partier now that I think about it. But I can't
forget my rather stern grandfather. Once, he even told my fiancé that if he
ever hurt me in any way, that he'd suffer an immeasurable amount of pain. I
just hope that he was joking when he told him that. My grandpa can be
awfully serious when he feels passionate about something. That's probably
why my parents eloped...
Now that I have dragged you through the whole process of meeting my family,
I'll introduce you to myself. If you haven't already guessed, my name is
Malorie. I'm the daughter of Sydney and Michael Vaughn. I'll be marrying
Tom, the love of my life in two days time. We haven't exactly chosen a
place to live yet. I know, I know, shame on me... But like I said before,
I've been slightly busy planning a wedding for over two hundred and fifty
people. We'll probably be staying in our apartment until we can buy a
house. Anyways, Tom proposed about a year ago on Valentine's Day, during a
cruise in the Caribbean. He popped the big question against a sunset while
we were on a yacht.
When I had called my mom to give her the news, all I got was her voice
mail. I then went on to try my dad...voicemail. I couldn't get any farther
than that, because Tom and I...well we got preoccupied. When you're in the
Caribbean and you've just become engaged, lust takes over. We didn't leave
our room for the rest of the trip. It was kind of like an early honeymoon
of sorts. Once my parents did receive the news, they were quite excited and
happy. My mom started crying of course, just like I knew she would. My dad
said that he was very happy for me. The exact reactions I knew they would
So now, as I'm days away form my wedding, I can't believe how happy I
really am. I have great parents and a great family, not to mention a
grandfather who cares (even if it results in violence). Now, I have a man
that I'm going to share the rest of my life with. I have a steady job that
brings in a nice portion of money. I'm in great physical condition, and I'm
pretty sure that I'm cute. Wait...I know I'm cute! I inherited my dad's
wonderful dimples and my mom's big brown eyes. I'm only slightly stubborn
and pushy, something that I received from both of my parents. If you have
any complaints you can take it up with them.
In all the time that I've been sitting here daydreaming, my parents have
walked over to talk with some people. They're probably double-checking with
all of the final plans. My mom is nodding her head and smiling, even though
I know that she's exhausted. Both of my parents have run themselves into
the ground, trying to work out all the last kinks in this wedding. Since
the rehearsal dinner is tomorrow, I'm going to try on my wedding dress for
any final altercations today. My mom and sisters will also be going to try
on their final dresses too. I have a feeling that it will be very stressful
and emotional. Just the thing I need right before my wedding...
My mom is now walking over to me, so I stand up and smooth out my
skirt. She gives me a smile and then hugs me, all the while smoothing out
my hair. I know what's coming next too. She'll start to cry and then she'll
go and hug my father and then he'll have to sit her down. After about ten
minutes of sobbing she'll look up and she'll see me and start to cry all
over again. Then, as if on cue, my mom starts tearing up and my father
comes to her rescue. He ushers her to the other side of the room, near a
box of that stiff Kleenex.
I can't bear to watch the next phase, so I walk out the front doors
of the church. The sun is starting to go down, so it casts a bright glow
right at eye level. I pull my hand up to my eyes to try and prevent any
further damage. I then realize, that my sunglasses are lying on my kitchen
table in my apartment. I silently curse myself for being so forgetful.
Since I can't stand the glare from the sun, I'll have to head back into the
church. Hopefully my mom has finished, because I can't really stand to see
her cry anymore. With the way my emotions are going, I'm likely to break
down right along with her.
But before I can reach for the door, it's being pushed open and I
have to step out of the way. It's my dad. He's come to see if I'm okay.
He's been like that since I was a little kid. It didn't matter if I had a
scraped knee or if my boyfriend had dumped me. My dad had been there for me
as a shoulder to cry on. As I looked into his eyes, mine started to water
and he pulls me into a hug. Sounding like the major hypocrite I am, I start
to sob. There goes my strong outer shell.
"Why does she always have to do that?" I manage to say through my
"You're the youngest, you're our baby." My dad says quietly as he
pulls away and looks me in the eyes. "It's just a very emotional time for
"Oh, like it's just a picnic for me? You have no idea how much stress
I'm under at the moment. I don't think I've actually sat down for more than
10 minutes in about 3 months. It seems like nobody can make decisions
without me." I say, anger growing. "I'm tired and I'm irritable and my
emotions are just going slightly haywire."
"I know." My dad says simply as he grabs my hand and squeezes it.
"I love you." I say as I lean in to hug him.
"I love you too." He responds. "You know, it's getting late, you
better head over to the boutique."
"I guess that means I have to go and get mom than right?" I say,
stating it more than asking it.
"Yeah." My dad says with a laugh. "Good luck, Mal."
"Thanks Dad." I reply straightening up. With that, I turn around and
open up the doors to the church. My dad gives me a little push and he
ushers me inside. I spot my mom talking with the minister. When she looks
over I give her a little wave and I tap my wrist indicating that it's time
to go. She says goodbye to the minister and she walks over to my dad and I.
As we head out of the door, I make sure to grab a box of that stiff
Kleenex. Knowing my mom, she'll need a lot of it.