OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

seventy.

         DESPITE THE PRESSURE he was under, Dave drove calmly, if not a little too fast, to the hospital. After throwing together a bag of things for Reagan, he'd ushered her into his car and buckled her in himself. He'd done a good job of trying to disguise the fact that his hands had been shaking as he'd clasped the seatbelt into place.

Reagan sat in the passenger seat with her hands set apart, one gripping the car door and the other bent into a claw against the center console. She was breathing in and out through her nose and working on keeping her jaw locked, just so she wouldn't cry out in either pain or fear. Pain, because what she had finally deduced was that her contractions were getting worse, and fear because she knew that what was happening had arrived early by a good two months.

"I don't understand," Dave blurted, breaking the unspoken 'no talking' rule that had been established for the ride. Reagan had been too busy hiding her anguish to speak. "You're too early. Way too early."

"I know," she said bluntly. She was too scared to say anything else. Saying anymore would have solidified the experience as being real, two months earlier than anticipated. She was plagued with the fear that she had not prepared enough for the moment awaiting her, but even worse, she wondered with an icy cold dread if her baby was going to be okay.

By the time Dave swung his car into the hospital parking lot, Reagan had worked her mind into a steady haze that dulled her senses and pinpointed her focus heavily on the center of her body, right where the slope of her belly distended outwards. Between Dave leading her into the hospital, being ushered into a room rapidly via a wheelchair and having a backless gown thrown over her body, Reagan hardly registered any of it, her vision swirling as she was nudged and dragged from one to place to another. She did not even feel the prick of an IV needle being inserted into her hand. In a way, the administering of the needle quietly confirmed the severity of what was happening. Reagan had not watched it pierce into her vein.

The physical pain of her contractions, however, occupied her mind entirely. It felt like an animal instinct taking over her body every time they struck, causing her to wrench her eyes shut and bite back every moan of agony. They were coming faster and harder, ravaging her in the worst pain she'd ever known. It was no wonder that it was all she could concentrate on. The pain had soaked up every bit of the spotlight. Everything and everyone around her had melted into the background.

The nurse in her room was asking questions, though Reagan had a difficult time understanding them. The nurse's voice was warped, hollowed around the edges so that she sounded much farther than directly at the foot of the hospital bed Reagan laid in. Reagan was acutely aware that she was panting, drudging over each fresh onslaught of pain.

"Reagan?" Dave asked, sounding as nervous as a small child. He'd been doing his best to answer some of the questions that the nurse was drilling, but his concern was with his wife, who appeared to have slipped into a catatonic and maddened state.

"Yes?" Reagan asked, barely lifting her eyes from their laser focus on the nubby bedsheets beneath her legs. She gripped her bedrails hard enough that her knuckles turned white.

"Have you experienced any bleeding within the last eight hours?" the nurse reiterated. She didn't seem as perturbed by Reagan's behavior as Dave was. Her questions were straight-forward and brisk, not a single one punctured with worry.

"No," Reagan replied. "I haven't seen any blood."

The nurse gave no remarks and launched into her next task, which was pulling Reagan's gown aside and adjusting velcro straps around her belly, explaining their necessity in order to monitor Gracie's heart. Reagan allowed the nurse to operate over her freely and side-eyed Dave, who stood by watching with anxious eyes. She could practically read his mind. He wanted answers that were not being given — the test only fueled his tension, as it would undoubtedly tell him and Reagan both whether or not their baby was alright.