ninety-five.

APRIL 5th, 1994, SEATTLE, WA 

            REAGAN WAS COLD. From the inside out, her skin had frozen over and she was icy to the touch, requiring a jacket to shroud her even as she sat ramrod straight on the edge of her couch. 

Dave was standing. He was too keyed up to sit, preferring to occasionally pace before he stopped, leaning against the wall with a far off look in his eye. Gracie was down for a nap, enabling Dave to turn himself over to his thoughts. Just like Reagan was doing.

They didn't say a word to each other. Every now and then, their eyes would lock and the passage of their mutual pain would flow. Dave's jaw would tighten, his lips would purse and he'd look away. Reagan suspected that bearing witness to her torment didn't make anything easier on him.

She couldn't see an alternative. She had no choice but to be numb to anything besides the apex of her pain, a pyramid scale of worry and heartbreak that was tearing her apart. If it hadn't been for the small things, such as the air conditioning churning on and off, she would have likely forgotten that she was still a living, breathing creature.

Kurt was missing.

Just repeating those three words inside her head made Reagan curl her hand into a fist, digging her fingernails into her palm. 

She should have been accustomed to that knowledge. She'd been mentally chanting it to herself, like some kind of sick mantra, since Dave had been phoned with the news. 

Kurt was missing. Disappeared from the rehabilitation center that he'd shunted himself off too. 

A joke. A stupid, terrible bluff that they'd all bought. And yet, Reagan could not blame him.

The desire to assign Kurt blame was impossible to locate. She refused to be mad at him, to curse his name under her breath like Dave had, even though he'd done so out of fear and concern. All Reagan was capable of was remaining mute, succumbing to the sharp, probing ache that had paralyzed her body.

Kurt was missing, no one could find him, and there was no telling what would happen next. According to Courtney, he was in possession of a shotgun. 

The phone trilled from the kitchen, causing Reagan and Dave to both jerk. Dave casted an annoyed glance towards the source of the noise. The phone had been ringing off the hook for the past twenty-four hours, fielding calls from Nirvana's management, family members, friends, friends of friends. Everyone had the same two questions poised for Reagan and Dave -- where did they think Kurt was, and were they okay?

Reagan settled her gaze into her lap, staring at her hands as Dave disappeared into the kitchen to answer the call. While she examined her bony, paled wrists, she thought of the last person she'd spoken to on the phone. Ginny. Dave's mother had called that morning, softly assuring them both that everything would be okay. She was the only person who Reagan was willing to accept that lie from.

Dave's voice trailed from the kitchen where he spoke urgently. It was a brief call, ending with the rattle of the phone being jammed back onto its hook.

Don't tell me, Reagan thought. Don't tell me who it was and what they said

It had become a game now. As the day had grown longer, the ringing of the phone had turned into a thing to be weary of. Although they didn't say it out loud, Reagan and Dave were both waiting for the final account on Kurt's whereabouts, a message that was certain to be more bad than good.

Dave reentered the living room, sighing and combing his fingers back through his short mop of hair. When he saw Reagan refusing to look at him, he finally went to her, lowering himself down to his knees. His hands slid over her thighs and he tilted his head, trying to snare her gaze with his own. 

"Reags," he said gently. "Look at me."

That instruction would have been so easy to follow a mere six days ago. Reagan would have obeyed it without question, always having been so eager to stare into Dave's eyes and know that he was with her, he loved her, and that nothing would separate them.

Dave's eyes had become haunting to her now. When she looked into them, she saw a thousand flashbacks of every pinpointed moment in time that had led them to where they were. Kurt was entwined with so many of those flashbacks.

Reagan looked up slowly, waiting to recognize the disbelief on Dave's face. If it was there, then she would know that Kurt was gone. He would be no longer labeled as missing, but simply gone, a person of the past. 

"It was Krist," Dave continued, keeping his voice soft as he spooled a piece of Reagan's hair around his fingers. "He and Shelli want to swing by."

Reagan gave a single, stiff nod. Krist and Shelli. Good. She could handle seeing them knowing that they existed on the same, mindless plain that she and Dave were on. They understood how maddening it all was.

"Please don't cry, baby," Dave whispered.

"I'm not crying," Reagan replied instantaneously. She hadn't cried, not yet. Her reserve of tears was being carefully guarded and there was no telltale sign of wet warmth streaking her cheeks.

"You're about to," Dave said. To prove his point, he tenderly touched the tip of his thumb to the corner of her eye. When he withdrew it, there was a spot of wetness. 

"I'm fine," Reagan said. "I'm keeping it together."

"That makes one of us."

She was about to melt into his chest, forgetting temporarily that she was supposed to be a diligent statue, but the phone started to ring again. Dave hissed quietly.

"Does anybody know the meaning of 'it's not a good fucking time?'" he muttered.

"I'll get it." Reagan maneuvered away from him and stood up. The least she could do was make herself useful if she wasn't going to remain set in stone, frozen in time until news of Kurt's whereabouts arrived. As long as she was talking again, she figured that she ought to participate in the procession of panic. 

Reagan answered the phone on its fourth ring. "Hello?" she asked, wondering in the back of her mind if she sounded as drained as she felt, or if her polite, controlled voice had taken over. 

"Reagan? Oh, god." It was Kate on the other line, sounding as frantic as everyone else. "What's going on? Have you heard anything?"

Reagan slumped against the kitchen wall and steadied herself. It was Kate she was talking to. Not some shark from the media trying to wheedle information out of her and Dave. It was her sister, there to shoulder some of the burden of her pain.

"No," Reagan answered. "Nothing. Courtney hired a private investigator and Cali swears he hasn't seen Kurt at the house, but other than that, no updates."

"He definitely flew back to Seattle, then?"

"Apparently."

Kate exhaled loudly. "This is fucked."

If it hadn't been for the severity of the situation, Reagan would have smiled. Her cordial little sister, cursing. Hearing that might have ordinarily resulted in a round of playful teasing, but that would have been like anticipating a sliver of sunshine during a hurricane.

"I know it is. I just hope they find him."

Reagan didn't say the other part of her wish, the part that specified that she wanted Kurt to be found regardless of whether he was alive or dead.

"Maybe he's just going on a binge," Kate suggested. "You told me that he snuck out away from Courtney all the time to get high."

It was a bit of a relief that Kate already knew the whole story regarding Kurt's heroin habit, but it was still odd for Reagan to hear other people speaking so leisurely about her friend's tendency to get ridiculously loaded.

"I don't know. I wish I knew more. Courtney's not really talking to us. There was some kind of intervention, right before he left for rehab, so that might have set him off . . . but he went willingly. So I don't know," Reagan said.

"You already told me that."

"Did I?"

"Yes. Reags, are you even sleeping?"

Barely

"Of course," Reagan lied.

"Do you need me to come grab Gracie?"

"Not right now. Sarah is still coming by, but I think Dave and I prefer to be the ones with her."

"Mom is insisting that she come stay with her and Dad."

Reagan rubbed her temples. Of course Kimberly would have felt the need to throw in her two cents. It had been impossible to avoid disguising the truth from her, especially after the media had gotten ahold of the story. 

"Mom needs to shut the hell up until this is over," Reagan said. Her tone shifted irritably. A man was missing, someone vitally important to both her and Dave's lives, and her mother had yet again found the time to whine and complain.

"She's worried, too," Kate told Reagan cautiously. "She's worried about you and Dave. She doesn't want Gracie to . . . y'know, be wrapped up in it."

"Don't you think Dave and I already know that? We're trying our fucking best, here. Keeping Gracie happy is still our main priority."

"I know, Reagan. I understand. I just didn't want you to waste any time being mad at Mom when all this is going on."

"Trust me, I wasn't planning on it."

"Will you call me if you find out anything else?"

"Sure."

Reagan hung up with Kate and immediately felt a twinge of regret. She didn't think she'd been all that abrasive, but either way Kate would be empathetic. Mostly, Reagan wanted to hear from Richard over any other member of her family. 

She felt like a five-year-old again, vying for the comfort that her father offered when she'd been scared. Back then, the source of her terror had always been invisible monsters under her bed or the unfortunate times that she'd gotten lost alone in the grocery store. The fear that pinned her down now was a thousand times worse than any childish woe.

Reagan went to return to Dave, but the phone started to ring again, as if the inanimate object had come to life with the sole purpose of torturing her.

She answered it resentfully. This time, it was Chris's voice that filled her ears. Reagan assured her best friend over and over that she would call back if anything came up, and finally Chris was placated into ending the call. Again, Reagan wondered if her friends and family were finding her to be utterly unreasonable.

"Who was it?" Dave joined her in the kitchen, looking as detached as ever with his arms folded across his long-sleeved t-shirt. 

"Kate and Chris," Reagan said. "They were checking in."

He nodded. "I figured. If it had been someone else, I knew you would hang up."

"I don't feel like talking to people much right now."

"I don't either."

Dave uncrossed his arms and held them out, a welcome invitation for Reagan to step into them. She did, feeling her body slightly relax. Being that close to Dave was apparently the only antidote to her disconnect.

"We'll figure it out," he murmured, burying his face into Reagan's hair.

"Thank you," she replied.

"For what?"

"For not saying that it's going to be okay."

Dave swallowed with great effort. "I'm hoping it will be."

"Do you regret it?" Reagan asked softly. She pulled back, Dave's hands still clasped around her back as she looked up into his eyes. 

"Regret what?"

"Where things ended up. How everything led to this."

Dave cinched his eyebrows together. He looked like he was honestly contemplating Reagan's question -- either that, or he was confused by it, or maybe even hurt that she'd presented it in the first place. She caressed the indentation between his eyes with her pointer finger.

He knew what she was asking without needing much elaboration. Reagan wanted to know if it had been worth it. She wanted to know if Dave would have changed anything about the decisions that had led him to Nirvana if it would mean avoiding the pain of what was happening now with Kurt. 

She wouldn't have blamed him if he said that he regretted all of it. 

Before he could give his answer, there was a knocking on the door. It was a nice change from the phone ringing, but Reagan still tensed up. 

"It's just Krist and Shelli," Dave soothed her. 

She followed him to the door where he let them in. Krist and Shelli entered their house slowly, taking sluggish footsteps that matched the way Reagan felt on the inside. Krist looked tired, completely void of the jubilant disposition that he was usually in, and Reagan suspected that Shelli had been crying. Her red-rimmed eyes gave it away.

"Fuck me, man," Krist said in a low voice after Dave closed the door. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and shook his head.

Dave clapped him silently on the shoulder, swallowing tightly again and looking down at the floor. Reagan took the opportunity to envelop Shelli into a hug. No time to resume her place as a statue-being.

"I fucking knew this shit would happen," Krist said. "When I last saw him and he freaked out on me the way he did, I knew. It felt like the last damn time that I was going to see him."

"Don't," Shelli mumbled, wiping at her eyes. 

Reagan wanted to agree aloud with Shelli. She didn't want to hear Krist voicing his doubt about seeing Kurt again, even though she was a hypocrite. Deep down inside, she felt the same way. She recalled her last meeting with him, sitting on his kitchen floor and pleading for him to live, and her gut wrenched. 

They all sat down in the living room, gathering in silence at first until Krist started talking again in that same, throaty whisper. It was mildly horrifying for Reagan to see him so sad. She'd seen Krist happy, she'd seen him riding on an increasingly intoxicating buzz, and she'd even see him angry. But seeing him swirling in the same void that she was in was something else entirely.

"I wish we could do something," Shelli whispered. "We could look wherever we wanted, but knowing Kurt, he doesn't want to be found."

"Well, he needs to cut the shit," Krist responded abruptly. "He's got everyone all worked up and he needs to get it together before it all goes to hell. I mean, what about Frances? Fuck the band, man. What about his kid?"

Krist slid his long fingers over his mouth and chin, rubbing them slowly. Reagan gritted her teeth when she saw that he was crying. He did a good job of disguising it in his voice, but she could see the tears that had escaped and fallen. 

Shelli got choked up and reached for her husband, grabbing his hand. Dave patted Krist's back with his head down, unable to do more than that, and Reagan closed her eyes.

She didn't want to see them all anymore, at least not in that moment. When she saw them sitting around her, she was yanked years into the past when they'd done the exact same thing except under happier circumstances. Back when she'd realized that they were the perfect family she'd never known she needed, fitting completely together without one piece out of place.

But there was a missing piece now, visibly absent in Reagan's broken adopted family. As long as that piece was missing, she didn't think she would ever be able to look at them the same. 


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