OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

ninety-two.

MARCH 4th, 1994, SEATTLE, WA

       SITTING IN HER chair behind her desk, Reagan chewed on the cap of the pen twirling between her fingers. It was all she could do to keep herself from sighing.

Her eyes were tired, which was the biggest thing bothering her. She'd been scanning the same industry press sheet for almost forty-five minutes, browsing through the black print for new and upcoming bands that she could pass word on to Todd about. Usually, she enjoyed the kind of eagle-eyed scouring that came with browsing these sheets, but she was exhausted that day.

Dave had unexpectedly arrived home the day before. Kurt had unceremoniously cancelled the next few days' worth of shows, meaning that Dave was free to stay in Seattle until the eleventh, when the next leg of the tour started.

Delighted by his surprise return, Reagan had stayed up nearly all night with him, first playing with Gracie until she went to sleep and then transitioning onto their back deck, where they'd drank cheap wine and talked. They'd talked about everything, from the tour to Virginia to music and it wasn't until almost three in the morning that Reagan's head had hit her pillow and she'd fallen asleep.

She didn't regret having stayed up with him. His arrival home had been a gift from the heavens, aligning perfectly in time with Gracie's upcoming second birthday. It was a perfect enactment of serendipity, which pleased Reagan to no end and left her feeling quite satisfied, even a little smug, that she'd gotten Dave back early.

Only now was she paying the price. Her vision stung and watered as she read and no amount of rapid blinking cleared her eyes. She let out a great, heaving sigh, throwing her own down onto her desk and cradling her head in her hands.

She wondered if anyone would notice if she checked out for an hour or two. People did come and go a lot, always rapping at her door to pop their heads in, but at least if she was curled up beneath her desk sleeping, they wouldn't see her and assume she was elsewhere in the building.

Running her tongue over the top row of her teeth and straightening her spine, Reagan sat back in her chair and smoothed out the paper in front of her.

No sleeping. She had to comb through the sheet one more time, mark it up with her red pen and buzz Todd by one in the afternoon. She was tired and yearning to be back home with Dave, but the one thing she wasn't was lazy on the job. And she really, really couldn't afford to be lazy on this job. Not when she was trying to maintain her good impressions in hopes of elevating herself to more a managerial status.

It was so difficult, though, trying to train her eyes on the paperwork layered across her the top of her desk when her mind was elsewhere. She fixed her gaze onto the row of frames gathered beside her pen organizer. In one was a snapshot of Gracie, beaming up from the living room floor with a toy in hand. Beside that picture was a photo of her, Dave and Gracie all together, taken by Kate while they'd lounged on their back deck. Dave wasn't looking in the camera lens, but rather off in the distance with a sly smile on his face.

Reagan examined the picture for a little longer. God, did she love him. She loved him and their small but perfect family, the epitome of all the happiness that she held close in the world. It was hard for her to fathom a memory in which the source of her joy, her family, did not exist. It didn't seem plausible that the world had even tilted right on its axis before she'd met Dave.

The sudden trill of her desk phone jarred Reagan out of her internal mulling. She cleared her throat and grabbed the receiver, pressing it to her ear.

"Reagan Abner-Grohl speaking," she said professionally.

"Can you come home? Right now?"

It was Dave's voice on the other line, low and urgent as he swiftly dodged a proper greeting. Reagan felt herself blink in surprise.