The deafening, mundane alarm rang against the white walls of the apartment. It was like the sound kept bouncing back and forth, back and forth. With a hard smack, expecting it to shut off, it continued. Groaning, the thirty-two year old grabbed the alarm clock from his childhood, and threw it to the ground.
Moving like a zombie, Derek Shepherd walked into his bathroom, letting the hot water run for an extended amount of time before stepping under the hot steam. Letting out a yawn, he stood there, allowing his overly exerted, overly sore muscles to relax.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Wrapping a towel around his lower half, he strode back into his bedroom, unplugging the terrible system that he owned since the early nineties. After drying off, he pulled on his usual apparel. Black socks, black sweat pants, an old college t-shirt, and his favorite pair of sneakers.
"Daddy!"
He jumped, bolting towards his daughter's bedroom. She was tossing, kicking the sheets everywhere across her bedroom. "Hey, angel. Daddy's here, now. Wake up, sweetie."
Her cheeks were stained with tears as her eyes flickered open, revealing her bright blue eyes. "M-Monsters."
Derek pulled her in for a tight hug. He knew that wasn't the cause of the morning's night terror, but he knew not to push it. "Monsters? I thought I told them to leave you alone. I'm going to have a long chat with them. They're not welcome here, are they?"
"No, Daddy. They are not." Derek smiled towards his daughter. Eight years old and she was already smarter than he was. Her dark red curls framed her face. She looked so much like her mother, but then again, she looked so much like himself.
"What's on the menu this morning, Kyla?"
Seeming to have overcome her episode rather quickly, she shrugged her shoulders. "Can I have captain crunch, Daddy?"
"You sure can! Why don't you pick out something nice to wear, huh? I'll get everything ready and we'll figure out what to do with this mop on your head," Derek chuckled. Soon enough, he was walking towards his kitchen. Turning on the light, he jumped. "What the hell are you doing?"
His best friend looked over his shoulder, "I was out of cereal." Mark Sloan was a few years younger than him, but ever since they met, they had acted like brothers. "This is what you get for moving across the hall from me."
"So, what you're telling me," Derek poured himself a cup of black coffee, then started getting breakfast ready. "Is that you're hiding from the girl who's currently in your apartment."
Mark's lips turned into a smirk, "You know me too well. We're on for tonight, right? You're not allowed to bail on me this time."
"Hold that thought," Derek answered his cell phone. "Hey, Addison. Ky's just gonna eat some breakfast, but she'll be ready as soon as you get here." He paused and let out a groan. "Addison, it's Friday. You're going to have to meet me at the stadium, because I have to leave very shortly." A few moments later, he tossed his phone onto the counter.
"Is someone being a flake again?"
Derek helped his daughter into a chair on the island. "Hey, sweetie. Mommy is going to pick you up from Daddy's work, okay? She's running a little late."
"Okay," She smiled brightly. "Can I go on the field again?"
Mark laughed, "They should let Ky ask you questions after you win the game. Maybe people would hate us much less."
"I don't think we'll have time for that today. Maybe on Sunday!"
Kyla looked up with a huge smile, "Because you're going to beat those stupid cowboys, right?"
Derek paused. He knew he should reprimand her for using that word. Hell, she was the daughter of the Eagles' starting quarterback. How could he even try to correct her. "Right, sweetie. Just don't tell your mother that."
x.x.x
Derek absolutely hated bringing Kyla into the stadium. He loved her being there, absolutely, but he wanted her to have to most normal life as possible. As him and Mark walked inside, he covered her head to the best of his ability.
The camera's never stopped. You'd think the paparazzi wouldn't be so concerned about a typical practice. Kyla was back on her feet as soon as the double doors closed behind him. She skipped down the hall as Derek shook his head. "She's going to be a handful when she gets older."
He shot Mark a nasty glare, "And thank you for reminding me." Taking a hold of his daughter's hand. He stopped short seeing the owner of the team chatting with his head coach. "Sir, how are you doing?"
Derek dropped Kyla's hand in order to shake his boss'. "Ah, there's my star! I hope you're ready for Sunday, Mr. Shepherd."
"Oh, absolutely. We're always ready for Sunday sir," Derek smiled as Mark tried to stifle a laugh. "Oh! Mr. Anderson. I want to introduce you to my daughter. This is-"
His heart dropped. "Ky?" Derek had never felt so sick in his entire life, and that included loosing the Superbowl in his rookie year. "Where's my daughter? Ky!" He started pacing up and down the halls. "What the fuck."
"Alton Anderson speaking," Derek's boss grabbed a hold of a walkie-talkie from someone near by. "I need an immediate lock down on the premises. I have a missing…" He waited for Derek to give a quick description. "… eight year old girl. Red curly hair, blue eyes. Her name is Kyla Shepherd. I repeat, I need an immediate lockdown."
Derek was gone.
