FEBRUARY 22nd, 1992, HONOLULU, HI

REAGAN SAT ON the ledge of her hotel room window, staring out towards the white sandy stretch of beach and crystalline blue waters of Hawaii. It was hard to believe that just the month before, she had been in New York City drinking in a very different view. It was even harder to believe that this was very much the epitome of her new life.

Her forehead was halfway pressed against the window's cool glass. She could see glints of her own reflection intermingled with the seaside staring back at her. In that reflection she could analyze every detail of her green eyes, though they seemed blank, lost in a void of thought.

They shouldn't have looked that way. From Reagan's perspective, she should have been overjoyed in that moment, sitting in Hawaii, happily pregnant and reunited with Dave once again. In a few days, Nirvana's Nevermind tour would be over. Dave would return to Seattle and finally, finally, they would have time to prepare for the baby — Gracie's — impending arrival.

Hearing Gracie's name in her head brought Reagan a great deal of comfort. Just a few weeks prior, she had felt her kick for the very first time, a gentle thud of rhythm beneath her ribcage that had jolted Reagan into alertness. She had cried buckets of tears afterwards. She had also been alone, but that had been alright. For the first time, she had truly felt like she was someone's mother.

The moment had been an exciting one to share. Kate had cried too and Chris had been in awe that something alive was kicking around inside of her best friend. Even Dave had looked past the unfortunate circumstance that he had not been there to feel his daughter's first kick; instead, he'd celebrated with Reagan over the phone, relieved to hear that their baby was healthy and growing.

Everything had been totally joyous within those passing weeks. As Reagan progressed further along in her pregnancy, she had felt more confident than ever before about the direction her life was heading in. The fears that had plagued her in December seemed far away and she was more content to focus on the future. It was a future filled with Dave and their baby and a precious gap of time in which they all three would be together.

No gray clouds could have drifted into that picturesque outlook on life until Reagan had received a phone call from Courtney two weeks after their initial meeting in New York. Breathlessly and through a bout of excited tears, Courtney had announced to Reagan that she was pregnant.

The news had been shocking, nonetheless. Reagan had stood gaping by her telephone, feeling the palm that held the receiver grow slick with sweat. She'd managed to choke back her surprise in order to congratulate Courtney, who seemed thrilled to be telling her the news. In a way, Reagan had been touched by the sentiment. Her and Courtney's friendship, though still flourishing in its early days, had grown stronger through phone calls and faxes. Courtney was enthused to be Reagan's friend, especially since she was the wife of Kurt's bandmate. This alone had automatically enhanced the intensity of their developing bond.

But, none of that had stopped Reagan from feeling blindsided by Courtney's sudden pregnancy. She didn't mind that she and Courtney were both pregnant at the same time — if anything, she imagined that it would be nice to talk about the ups and downs of the whole experience with someone — but she couldn't help but to think back to the moment in which Courtney had confessed to her upon the stairs of St. Patrick's Cathedral that she, along with Kurt, was using drugs.

Reagan hadn't been the best at math in school, but she could do enough basic calculations to conclude that Courtney had already been carrying her baby that day, the same day that she'd vented about her and Kurt's complicated relationship to heroin. Reagan had feared the worst, but of course it had been Dave who had calmed her down.

"Relax," he'd said through another sigh, the same kind of sigh he always exhaled whenever the dicey subject of Kurt and Courtney came up. "They're handling it. Courtney's going to see some specialist about birth defects and they're both going to quit the shit and move on."

It hadn't been the most convincing piece of reassurance, but Reagan had still accepted it, more keen to focus on her own pregnancy and marriage rather than someone else's. Dave had been and still was right. Kurt's problems were not her own nor could she mother him enough to make them disappear.

With more exclusive permission from work, Reagan had flown out to Hawaii that weekend for several reasons. It was the official end of the tour, so Dave had asked that they spend it together before flying back to Seattle. She would watch their final show with Courtney and then finally, Dave would be released back to her, free from any more touring obligations for the next four months.

And then there was the unexpected wedding that had been thrown together quickly by Kurt and Courtney, set for the following Monday. In her overtly sugary sweet way, Courtney had asked that Reagan be there. There had been some authenticity in her request, though Reagan had also figured that Dave just didn't want to be at the wedding without her.

Her presence there that weekend was also due to the obvious reasoning that plainly, the band was in Hawaii. Dave had coaxed her into coming with the promise of beautiful beaches, clear skies and a lack of rain. He'd insisted that the fresh sunny air would do her well. While she agreed, Reagan had also just wanted to be with him in a tropical paradise. It felt like they were embarking on the honeymoon that they'd never had.

She fingered the golden chain of the locket Dave had gifted her. It was still as empty as the day she'd first gotten it, but Reagan never took it off, always making sure that it was in its usual spot around her neck. It held just as much meaning to her as the diamond ring sparkling on her finger. Both pieces of jewelry connected her to Dave and ultimately made her feel closer to him, even if he was only mere steps away.

As if on cue, the door to the hotel room opened and Dave walked in, scratching the back of his neck and wearing a tired expression. Reagan saw him and felt a lightning strike of happiness zap her heart. Months of having been separated from him would require lots of time spent at his side in order to be accounted for.

She slipped away from the window ledge and flew straight to him, sliding her arms eagerly around his waist and pressing her face into his t-shirt. He had come straight from a brief sound check with the band and smelled like cigarette smoke and traces of sweat, but she didn't care. Letting go of him would have been criminal.

"Hi," she said, squeezing his midsection. He let out a short laugh and tucked her closer inwards.

"Hi," he replied with a grin.

"Are you done for the day?" Reagan asked. She stepped back and allowed Dave inside, watching as he dropped down onto the bed and kicked his feet up.

"No, tonight's the last show babe —,"

"I know, I know," Reagan said, sitting down at the bed's edge beside him. She laid herself across his chest and moved her face close to his, feeling like a pouty child as she did so. "But besides that. You don't have to leave?"

"I'm not leaving you," Dave said soundly. With one lithe hand, he enfolded Reagan into the crevice of his arm and rolled her over so that she laid beneath him on her back. He hovered over her, conscious of the space blocked between them by her six-month pregnant belly.

Playfully, Reagan kicked her legs up and locked them around his waist, looping her arms around his neck. He laughed when she pulled him downwards to press their mouths together.

"This is basically our honeymoon," Reagan said. "We've got to at least spend some of it together."

Dave looked down from where he remained positioned over Reagan, staring at her stomach with an exaggerated look of shock on his face.

"That's the fastest conception of a honeymoon baby that I've ever seen," he remarked.

Reagan groaned loudly. She rolled her eyes in what was becoming her trademark response to his corny jokes before rolling them both over again. This time, he was on his back and she straddled his waist.

"I'm not attractive to you when I'm like this," she said, accusation thick in her voice as she looked down at Dave.

"Like what?" he retorted cheekily, fighting a smile that twitched upon his lips.

"Like this!" she complained, pointing at her stomach. "When I look like an absolute cow!"

"A very adorable cow," Dave offered.

"Wait. Are you calling me a cow?"

"Shit. No. I am most definitely not calling you a cow."

Reagan didn't buy it. She groaned again and covered her face, jumping away from Dave and curling onto the bed. It was a minuscule thing to worry about and something she had once considered to be shallow, but she couldn't deny that the drastic changes of her body were a little terrifying. Kate had commented that she'd hardly changed, looking as if she'd only just stuck a basketball beneath her shirt, but some of what Reagan had felt was internal. Even if she didn't look like a pregnant cow, she sure as hell felt like one.

"Oh, come on," Dave said. He repositioned himself so that he once more lingered above Reagan, laying his hand lovingly on her stomach. "You know I don't think that. You're still as smoking hot as the day I first met you."

"Smoking hot?" Reagan scoffed in disbelief.

"Smoking hot, beautiful, gorgeous, a total babe," Dave listed. "All of the above. You'll still always be Reagan, pregnant or not, and that's not enough."

"But do you want me?" Reagan said back, feeling her streak of fiery tenacity flicker out.

"Of course I want you."

"No. I know that. I mean . . . do you want want me?"

Dave fought back another combination of a smile and a laugh, shaking his head.

"This is the funniest conversation I've had since Krist bought two grams of weed in Detroit, smoked almost all of it, drank an entire bottle of red wine and then proceeded to explain to me that we are all secretly microchipped by the government."

"Dave," Reagan said, stretching out the sound of his name into a helpless moan. "Be serious, please."

He laughed again and kissed her neck. "I don't know what to say, Reags."

Her body went suddenly cold beneath him. For one terrifying moment, Reagan contemplated that maybe Dave was turned off by her while she was in her pregnant state. She was just about to scramble to her feet when Dave caught her by the shoulder, pressing her back down into the bed.

"I mean to say that I do want you," he said. There was a touch of urgency in his words when he read the hurt look in Reagan's eyes. "I want you all the time. I want you right now. Right here."

"So . . ." Reagan struggled. "Why not initiate it then?"

"I guess . . . I dunno' . . . come on, you're pregnant, babe!"

"So?"

"So what about the baby?"

"What about the baby?"

Dave huffed, looking like a parent who'd been asked far too early to give an awkward sex talk to their kid. Reagan even suspected that she saw a trace of redness blooming across his cheekbones, a mark of true embarrassment.

"I don't want to . . . you know . . . disturb her."

It was then Reagan's turn to laugh. She mashed her lips together in an attempt to suppress the chortle threatening to erupt out of her chest, but she could hardly resist. Dave scowled at her.

"How else do you want me to say it?" he demanded.

"So you're telling me that you won't have sex with me because you don't want to bother the baby?"

"I will have sex with you. I'll have a lot of sex with you if you want. I just can't promise that I won't be thinking the whole time that I'm traumatizing our child."

"It's not like that, Dave."

"I'm violating her space. It definitely is."

"Alright, it's officially awkward," Reagan declared. She sat up and slouched forward, discouraged by Dave's stance on the whole thing. She somewhat understood where he was coming from, but still couldn't disguise her want and need for him. Pregnancy hormones had been making her feel funny in the head.

Frustrated, Dave sat up along with her. He grabbed her face determinedly and kissed her, pinning her into his embrace. His hands flashed to her chest before traveling lower. There was a blatant sign of desire in what he was doing, though Reagan felt like she'd forced his hand. She moved away, arching her neck backward so that Dave's lips slipped down to her neck.

"You don't have to do that," she said, though her body responded otherwise.

"You think I don't want you," Dave argued. "That's crazy. I'm gonna' prove you wrong about that."

"I'm being stupid," Reagan sighed. She grabbed Dave's wandering hands by his wrists and gently laid them into her lap.

"You're not stupid," Dave countered. "Maybe a little ridiculous to think I could ever stop wanting you, yeah, but never stupid."

Reagan smiled softly and leaned her head against his shoulder. Just as rapidly as her insecurities had come on had they drifted away under Dave's consolation. It was a wonderful feeling to be loved so wholly by him that he could wipe away her fears instantly. His youthfulness disappeared in those moments and suddenly, he was ten years older, tenderly taking care of her. To be taken care of when she'd been the one to care for everyone else was new and unusual, but still enlightening.

Dave grumbled under his breath and Reagan turned her eyes up at him curiously.

"What?" she asked, seeing the displeasure in his eyes.

"It's you," he explained. "Because of you, I started to imagine what it would be like to take advantage of this nice bed with the equally nice view."

"It really is beautiful outside," Reagan admitted, side glancing towards the window.

"I didn't mean outside," Dave corrected her. "I meant the spectacular view of your boobs in that shirt. Did they get bigger?"

"Probably. Want to test that theory out?"

Dave looked as if he would have loved nothing more, but Reagan approached their predicament differently, taking charge as she leaned in and began to kiss his neck. This time, it was her hand that wandered downwards, tracing a path down his chest and past his waist.

"This is nice too," Dave said, his voice lowering into a husky whisper.

"There are other ways to go about this, you know," Reagan told him. She kissed his mouth once before sliding her hands up beneath his shirt, pulling it off his head. He laid back eagerly, watching as she kissed down his bare chest and stopped at the waistline of his jeans. She undid the button on them, raising her eyes so that they met his. The familiar, lustful look on her face caused him to tilt his head back with a groan of longing.

Reagan removed the remainder of Dave's clothes and placed her lips around him, feeling the shudder of his body ricochet to his legs as she sat astride over them. A similar spark of desire skittered down her spine when he groaned again, this time her name, twisting his hand in her hair and guiding her mouth lower, and lower . . .

An abrupt knock at the door shattered the moment, snapping Reagan's attention away from Dave and the heavy breaths he was taking. She glanced over her shoulder and then back at Dave. He looked at her in exasperation.

"Ignore it," he suggested. Reagan shrugged, figuring that whoever it was had to have been there for Dave. If he was alright with excusing it, then she supposed it was no problem.

He sighed heavily with pleasure when her mouth found him again. His wrung his hand tighter in the tendrils of her hair, closing his eyes and exhaling her name. And then the knock came again — this time louder.

"Dave," Reagan began. She sat up, too occupied by the stranger behind the door to continue without acknowledging their knocks first.

"We're busy!" Dave called. He grabbed the pillow behind his head and lobbed it at the door. "Come back later! Or don't!"

"Dave Grohl, don't you ever speak to me like that again!" replied a muffled shout, followed by another pounding knock.

Reagan and Dave exchanged a knowing look as the knocking continued. They would have recognized that voice anywhere, even through the barrier that obscured its owner. Reagan got up off the bed and went straight for the door, hurriedly undoing the lock while Dave muttered to himself as he yanked his pants back up.

When Reagan pulled the door open, Courtney stood at the doorstep, appearing disgruntled and wearing a glower of disapproval. Her face was surprisingly makeup-less.

"Hey Courtney," Reagan said. She combed a few fingers through her hair, trying to guess just how obvious it was what she and Dave had been up to.

"Hi Reagan," Courtney said pleasantly. She stuck her head through the door and glared at Dave, still lying on the bed. "And a very happy 'fuck you' to you, Dave."

"Screw you, Courtney."

"Oh Dave, we both know the only reason you're saying that is because I interrupted your precious chance of actually getting screwed right now —,"

"Okay, shut up," Reagan commanded, holding her palms up in the air between them. "Don't start with each other."

Courtney sniffed. "I don't know what you're talking about. Dave knows I like to kid with him."

"Sure I do," Dave said sarcastically. He rolled off the bed and went for the mini fridge, grabbing a beer from inside of it. Reagan understood his reaction. Being around Courtney gave most people the urge to indulge in a cold, alcoholic beverage.

"So what's up?" Reagan asked. She placed her hands on her hips and rocked back and forth on her heels, hoping Courtney would make her visit quick.

"We're going to get facials," she announced. "The hotel has a spa downstairs. Fancy, right?"

"Facials?" Reagan repeated. No matter how hard she tried, she knew there was no way she could hide her responding grimace.

"Yes," Courtney said, enunciating the word. "Facials. We are in Hawaii, Reagan. This is what people do when they are in Hawaii."

"You know she came here to spend time with me, right?" Dave threw in. He twisted off the cap of his beer and took a long swig, staring Courtney dead in the eye over the raised bottle.

"Obviously, because I came here to spend time with Kurt. Oh, and to fucking marry him. But that doesn't mean I can't spend one god damn second with someone who has a vagina."

"Courtney," Reagan sighed. "I don't know if I'm up for that right now. Their last show is tonight."

"And we'll be done before it even starts," Courtney insisted. "I already booked us for time in the spa, anyways. So the obligation lies with both of us now."

Reagan was torn between being vaguely irritated and seriously mad. She supposed that this was the pushy, obnoxious side of Courtney that people like Krist and Shelli had warned her about, though she'd spent a lot of time putting the thought of it aside in order to accept Courtney's admirable boldness.

She realized that she didn't have much of a say in the matter as Courtney grabbed her hand, already leading her out the door before she could even bid Dave a proper, apologetic goodbye.

"Come on Reags," Courtney beckoned, using her nickname. "Like I said, we're in Hawaii. And you're pregnant. You know what that means? You need a facial."