SkyGirl5
Cadet
ok so i know i said Change Your Mind woudl be posted today, but i had a request for this... CYM will be up in a few days 
Title: Dirty Little Secret
Genre: s/v AU little angst, but mostly fun
Summary: Whatever happened to Sydney Bristow that made her so guarded and untrusting? That's what Michael Vaughn wonders about his personal assistant every day.
25 Chaps + Epilogue
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Chapter 1 (below) Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8
Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 & 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23
Chapter 24 Chapter 25 + Epilogue
Chapter 1
“Come on! Come on!” thirty-year-old Michael Vaughn groaned to the car in front of him. Apparently, the driver of that vehicle was enjoying his break far more than his gas pedal. Of course, no matter how much Michael cursed and shouted at that person, it would do no good; there was no way the person could hear him when taking into account the distance between their cars and the surrounding noise of idling engines. Somehow, though, the shouting made Michael feel a little bit better; it released his already sky-high tension.
He was late; very late, in fact. He should have been at his destination half an hour earlier, yet there he was, trapped by Los Angeles’s gridlock traffic for the millionth time. A native to New York City, driving in gridlock traffic was still something he was getting used to. Of course New York had its fair share of traffic snarls as well, but he was never driving in them, merely riding. When riding, one could accomplish other tasks like phone calls, reading notes and other such things. Doing such things while driving only increased one’s chance to cause an accident, as he had painfully learned the hard way… twice. Though he had been in LA for over five years, he still was not used to driving in traffic and was unsure he would ever get used to it.
After another ten minutes of curses and jerky starts and stops, he finally arrived at his destination: a studio back lot where a music video was being shot for an up and coming artist known as Big D. Michael, as a representative of BMG Records, was asked to attend the video shoot to make sure everything was going well and that Big D was satisfied with the shoot. This reason, of course, was how the record company explained Michael’s presence to artists with volatile tempers and short fuses. The real reason for his attendance was so he could check up on things, considering the record company was footing the bill for the video and they needed to make sure their seventy thousand dollars was being spent wisely.
Michael parked his Atlantic blue 650i BMW convertible very poorly in the nearest free parking space, taking up two spaces in the process, before getting out and slamming the door behind him. He pocketed his keys as he walked towards the collection of trailers that were set up for Big D’s video. As he walked, Michael spotted the artist across the lot and plastered on his schmoozing face. As a general rule, Michael did not dislike music artists; they were ordinary people who he did not know at all and thus had no reason to dislike them. Sure, there were a few who were very full of themselves, caught up in their singing talent and there were some others who were spoiled brats, spending every dime of their millions as it rolled in, but as a general rule they were not all that bad (especially if required time in their presence was minimal). Except Big D, that was.
Michael only had the displeasure of meeting him twice before, but even in the collective twenty minutes they spent together, it was easy to tell Big D was not exactly a nice person. For starters, Big D, unlike the vast majority of BMG’s artists, was a singer (term used loosely) who specialized in the art of rapping. The fact that Michael had an intense distaste for rap music made it immediately difficult for Big D to get on Michael’s good side. Plus, Big D did not seem to be very friendly or kind, which only succeeded in hurting him even more in Michael’s eyes. Michael was at a loss to understand the reasoning for BMG taking on such an artist since rap was not their forte. He was even more stunned that Big D accepted BMG’s contract instead of holding out for one of the labels that had a reputation for marketing rap artists. Of course, his shock was partly influenced by his pure detestation for having to work with such a person, but since it was his job he had to do it with a smile on his face whether he liked it or not.
“Big D, how ya doin’, Man?” Michael greeted the larger man with an outstretched hand. Big D merely looked down at Michael’s hand, saying nothing. “Right,” Michael said, retracting his hand, “So, how’s the shoot going?”
Big D said nothing, but instead walked away with the few men surrounding him following. “Well, politeness is key,” Michael muttered under his breath. He then walked off to see if he could find Big D’s manager, who was far from cordial, but at least more so than Big D himself. Michael walked over towards the makeup trailer, on the way passing several girls in skimpy attire who were obviously dancers in Big D’s video. Behind the makeup trailer, Michael finally spotted Big D’s manager, only he was not alone. On either side of him stood two men, neither of whom Michael recognized, but they appeared to be crowded around a woman dressed similarly to the dancers Michael had just passed. Michael stopped walking, debating whether he should turn around, walk away and talk to Big D’s manager later on, or approach this strange group of people. Just as he was about to turn around and walk away, one of the men reached out and slapped the dancer across the face while another reached out and grabbed her arm what seemed to be painfully tight.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Michael called out to them, concerned for the woman’s welfare. At the sound of his voice, all the men but Big D’s manager scattered. The manager then shouted to the girl that she was fired, before stalking off himself. Tears streaming down her face, the dancer picked herself up from the back of the makeup trailer that she was leaning against and began to walk towards Michael. She tried to pass him with her eyes trained on the ground, but he reached out a gentle hand to touch her arm as she went by. “Are you alright?” he asked sincerely.
From her reaction to his touch, one would have thought he had electrocuted her. She jumped about two feet away from him, nearly stumbling due to the high heels she was wearing. “I’m fine,” she snapped, keeping her eyes firmly onto the ground. She kept on walking without glancing back towards him. Sighing, Michael walked off in the opposite direction, needing to talk to Big D’s manager.
Twenty minutes later, Michael was finally able to leave. The video shoot was going fine without him, despite the firing of one of the dancers. He made his way back to his car but, on the way, he spotted the ousted dancer walking across the blacktop barefoot, high heeled shoes in hand along with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Michael watched her walking slowly, almost limping, for a moment before his boy scout-like instincts over took him and he rushed over to her. “Excuse me! Excuse me, Miss! Excuse me,” he called, trying to catch her attention.
She didn’t turn around until he was practically on top of her at which point she snapped, “What?!”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, taking a step back, “I just… I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, continuing on her way.
“Are you sure? I mean…you’re limping and-”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
“How about I give you a ride?” he offered.
With that, she turned around, her eyes narrowing. “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Luring me into your car so that you can take me somewhere and have your way with me because, after all, I’m just the slutty dancer, right?”
“What?!” Michael practically shrieked at that insinuation. “No, no Miss, I assure you that’s not the case at all. It’s just…you’re not wearing your shoes and… and I thought you might like to ride somewhere instead of walking wherever you’re going without shoes on or with those high heeled things, which would probably be worse,” he laughed in an attempt to lighten the situation.
“Oh,” the woman said in a very short tone that indicated slight guilt from her previous outburst. She then looked down at her already blackened feet for a solid minute before responding. “Yeah, okay,” she sighed.
“Great,” Michael smiled. “My car’s just over there…. I’m Michael Vaughn, by the way,” he said, leading the way towards his vehicle.
“Sydney,” she said simply.
“Sydney. Is there a last name that goes along with that?” he asked, almost laughing.
“Nope,” she told him.
“Oh….,” he said, unsure of where their conversation could go from there. Once they reached his car, he opened the passenger side door for her and let her step inside before walking around to the driver’s side. “So, where can I take you, Sydney?”
“There’s a bus stop a few blocks away; that’ll be good enough,” she told him.
“Are you sure, because-”
“I’m sure,” she cut him off quickly.
“Okay… so, you’re a video dancer, huh? That’s… an interesting profession,” Michael said to her with a sideways glance. She gave him a very irritated look that caused him to clear his throat and sigh, “Okay, so what about-”
“Listen, Mr. Fancy Record Label Guy,” she cut him off. “I just want a freakin’ ride, okay; this isn’t Oprah.”
“Sorry,” he said quietly, taken aback slightly by her harshness.
They drove in silence until Sydney pointed up ahead and said, “There. You can stop there.”
Sighing, Michael drove to the spot she indicated and then pulled over along the side of the road. Before she could get out of the car he stopped her. “How about a job? One where you wouldn’t get abused,” he offered. She gave him an utterly confused look. “I’m looking for a new personal assistant and-”
“I don’t do slavery,” she cut him off.
Groaning in frustration, he pulled a business card from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “If you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” she assured him before getting out of the car and slamming the door behind her.
Title: Dirty Little Secret
Genre: s/v AU little angst, but mostly fun
Summary: Whatever happened to Sydney Bristow that made her so guarded and untrusting? That's what Michael Vaughn wonders about his personal assistant every day.
25 Chaps + Epilogue
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 1 (below) Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8
Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16
Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 & 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23
Chapter 24 Chapter 25 + Epilogue
Chapter 1
“Come on! Come on!” thirty-year-old Michael Vaughn groaned to the car in front of him. Apparently, the driver of that vehicle was enjoying his break far more than his gas pedal. Of course, no matter how much Michael cursed and shouted at that person, it would do no good; there was no way the person could hear him when taking into account the distance between their cars and the surrounding noise of idling engines. Somehow, though, the shouting made Michael feel a little bit better; it released his already sky-high tension.
He was late; very late, in fact. He should have been at his destination half an hour earlier, yet there he was, trapped by Los Angeles’s gridlock traffic for the millionth time. A native to New York City, driving in gridlock traffic was still something he was getting used to. Of course New York had its fair share of traffic snarls as well, but he was never driving in them, merely riding. When riding, one could accomplish other tasks like phone calls, reading notes and other such things. Doing such things while driving only increased one’s chance to cause an accident, as he had painfully learned the hard way… twice. Though he had been in LA for over five years, he still was not used to driving in traffic and was unsure he would ever get used to it.
After another ten minutes of curses and jerky starts and stops, he finally arrived at his destination: a studio back lot where a music video was being shot for an up and coming artist known as Big D. Michael, as a representative of BMG Records, was asked to attend the video shoot to make sure everything was going well and that Big D was satisfied with the shoot. This reason, of course, was how the record company explained Michael’s presence to artists with volatile tempers and short fuses. The real reason for his attendance was so he could check up on things, considering the record company was footing the bill for the video and they needed to make sure their seventy thousand dollars was being spent wisely.
Michael parked his Atlantic blue 650i BMW convertible very poorly in the nearest free parking space, taking up two spaces in the process, before getting out and slamming the door behind him. He pocketed his keys as he walked towards the collection of trailers that were set up for Big D’s video. As he walked, Michael spotted the artist across the lot and plastered on his schmoozing face. As a general rule, Michael did not dislike music artists; they were ordinary people who he did not know at all and thus had no reason to dislike them. Sure, there were a few who were very full of themselves, caught up in their singing talent and there were some others who were spoiled brats, spending every dime of their millions as it rolled in, but as a general rule they were not all that bad (especially if required time in their presence was minimal). Except Big D, that was.
Michael only had the displeasure of meeting him twice before, but even in the collective twenty minutes they spent together, it was easy to tell Big D was not exactly a nice person. For starters, Big D, unlike the vast majority of BMG’s artists, was a singer (term used loosely) who specialized in the art of rapping. The fact that Michael had an intense distaste for rap music made it immediately difficult for Big D to get on Michael’s good side. Plus, Big D did not seem to be very friendly or kind, which only succeeded in hurting him even more in Michael’s eyes. Michael was at a loss to understand the reasoning for BMG taking on such an artist since rap was not their forte. He was even more stunned that Big D accepted BMG’s contract instead of holding out for one of the labels that had a reputation for marketing rap artists. Of course, his shock was partly influenced by his pure detestation for having to work with such a person, but since it was his job he had to do it with a smile on his face whether he liked it or not.
“Big D, how ya doin’, Man?” Michael greeted the larger man with an outstretched hand. Big D merely looked down at Michael’s hand, saying nothing. “Right,” Michael said, retracting his hand, “So, how’s the shoot going?”
Big D said nothing, but instead walked away with the few men surrounding him following. “Well, politeness is key,” Michael muttered under his breath. He then walked off to see if he could find Big D’s manager, who was far from cordial, but at least more so than Big D himself. Michael walked over towards the makeup trailer, on the way passing several girls in skimpy attire who were obviously dancers in Big D’s video. Behind the makeup trailer, Michael finally spotted Big D’s manager, only he was not alone. On either side of him stood two men, neither of whom Michael recognized, but they appeared to be crowded around a woman dressed similarly to the dancers Michael had just passed. Michael stopped walking, debating whether he should turn around, walk away and talk to Big D’s manager later on, or approach this strange group of people. Just as he was about to turn around and walk away, one of the men reached out and slapped the dancer across the face while another reached out and grabbed her arm what seemed to be painfully tight.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Michael called out to them, concerned for the woman’s welfare. At the sound of his voice, all the men but Big D’s manager scattered. The manager then shouted to the girl that she was fired, before stalking off himself. Tears streaming down her face, the dancer picked herself up from the back of the makeup trailer that she was leaning against and began to walk towards Michael. She tried to pass him with her eyes trained on the ground, but he reached out a gentle hand to touch her arm as she went by. “Are you alright?” he asked sincerely.
From her reaction to his touch, one would have thought he had electrocuted her. She jumped about two feet away from him, nearly stumbling due to the high heels she was wearing. “I’m fine,” she snapped, keeping her eyes firmly onto the ground. She kept on walking without glancing back towards him. Sighing, Michael walked off in the opposite direction, needing to talk to Big D’s manager.
Twenty minutes later, Michael was finally able to leave. The video shoot was going fine without him, despite the firing of one of the dancers. He made his way back to his car but, on the way, he spotted the ousted dancer walking across the blacktop barefoot, high heeled shoes in hand along with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Michael watched her walking slowly, almost limping, for a moment before his boy scout-like instincts over took him and he rushed over to her. “Excuse me! Excuse me, Miss! Excuse me,” he called, trying to catch her attention.
She didn’t turn around until he was practically on top of her at which point she snapped, “What?!”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized, taking a step back, “I just… I wanted to make sure you’re alright.”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, continuing on her way.
“Are you sure? I mean…you’re limping and-”
“I’m fine,” she repeated.
“How about I give you a ride?” he offered.
With that, she turned around, her eyes narrowing. “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Luring me into your car so that you can take me somewhere and have your way with me because, after all, I’m just the slutty dancer, right?”
“What?!” Michael practically shrieked at that insinuation. “No, no Miss, I assure you that’s not the case at all. It’s just…you’re not wearing your shoes and… and I thought you might like to ride somewhere instead of walking wherever you’re going without shoes on or with those high heeled things, which would probably be worse,” he laughed in an attempt to lighten the situation.
“Oh,” the woman said in a very short tone that indicated slight guilt from her previous outburst. She then looked down at her already blackened feet for a solid minute before responding. “Yeah, okay,” she sighed.
“Great,” Michael smiled. “My car’s just over there…. I’m Michael Vaughn, by the way,” he said, leading the way towards his vehicle.
“Sydney,” she said simply.
“Sydney. Is there a last name that goes along with that?” he asked, almost laughing.
“Nope,” she told him.
“Oh….,” he said, unsure of where their conversation could go from there. Once they reached his car, he opened the passenger side door for her and let her step inside before walking around to the driver’s side. “So, where can I take you, Sydney?”
“There’s a bus stop a few blocks away; that’ll be good enough,” she told him.
“Are you sure, because-”
“I’m sure,” she cut him off quickly.
“Okay… so, you’re a video dancer, huh? That’s… an interesting profession,” Michael said to her with a sideways glance. She gave him a very irritated look that caused him to clear his throat and sigh, “Okay, so what about-”
“Listen, Mr. Fancy Record Label Guy,” she cut him off. “I just want a freakin’ ride, okay; this isn’t Oprah.”
“Sorry,” he said quietly, taken aback slightly by her harshness.
They drove in silence until Sydney pointed up ahead and said, “There. You can stop there.”
Sighing, Michael drove to the spot she indicated and then pulled over along the side of the road. Before she could get out of the car he stopped her. “How about a job? One where you wouldn’t get abused,” he offered. She gave him an utterly confused look. “I’m looking for a new personal assistant and-”
“I don’t do slavery,” she cut him off.
Groaning in frustration, he pulled a business card from his pocket and pressed it into her hand. “If you change your mind.”
“I won’t,” she assured him before getting out of the car and slamming the door behind her.
that's even better than fluff (well almost.... 