Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

M/M

Fandoms:

Heated Rivalry (TV), Game Changers Series - Rachel Reid

Relationships:

Shane Hollander/Ilya Rozanov, Shane Hollander & Hayden Pike, Ilya Rozanov & Svetlana Vetrova

Characters:

Shane Hollander, Ilya Rozanov, Hayden Pike, Svetlana Vetrova, Yuna Hollander, David Hollander, Wyatt Hayes, Luca Haas, Brandon Wiebe

Additional Tags:

POV Shane Hollander, Autistic Shane Hollander, Spoilers for Book 6: The Long Game (Game Changers), Angst, Major Character Injury, Amputation, guys this isn't going to be pretty, Eventual Happy Ending, Airplane Crashes, Vomiting, References to Depression, major guilt, Career Ending Injuries, Depression, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Period-Typical Homophobia, Homophobic Language

Language:

English

Stats:

Published: 2026-03-24 Completed: 2026-08-01 Words: 78,070 Chapters: 23/23

give me no sympathy (it's the mercy I can't take)

Summary

When the MLH announces all games are cancelled for the rest of the evening, Shane Hollander knows something is weirdly wrong. There's no precedent for it in league history. A string of messages from Ilya and a phone call from his mother confirm the worst: something has happened, and he doesn't know what.
------------------------------------------------
The Centaurs plane crash is serious. In the aftermath, life changes for Ilya completely, and Shane has to learn how he fits in.

Notes

i'm sure i'll add tags as i go, but rest assured: no one is dying here. we will have a happy ending. it just will hurt along the way.

title from song in e by julien baker

Chapter 1

Chapter Notes

January 2021

There was 14:27 left on the clock in the third period when Shane bent down for the face off. Scott Hunter was locked in across from him. The Admirals were pushing the pace tonight. The look in Hunter’s eyes was very reminiscent of the 2017 season when he won the cup. Shane tightened his jaw. He was the defending champion and determined to get it back in six months. Shane flicked his eyes to the side, watching the linesman prepare to drop the puck. Another steading breath and he was ready for the drop.

The linesman pulled away from the face off circle. Shane blinked. He was moving towards center ice where the linesmen and refs huddled, talking rapidly and stealing glances at the player benches. Shane stood up, because clearly the game was stopping for a moment. After a few more moments passed, Coach Theriault barked an order recalling the players to the bench. A quick glance told Shane that the Admirals coach had done the same. He tried to catch Scott Hunter’s eye, but the opposing captain seemed just as hesitant and confused as the Voyagers were.

“What is this about?” Shane asked an assistant coach when he made it back to the bench.

“Someone from the MLH game down and stopped play. We’re not really sure what’s up yet.” The coach turned to another player and left Shane to ponder what could possibly stop play like this.

There were sometimes extended pauses when someone was injured in a game, but the night’s game had been fairly clean. No one had taken any major hits and certainly not on the last play. There was no inclement weather in the area unless a freak blizzard had moved in sent the game had started.

“Good evening hockey fans,” the announcer’s voice boomed. Shane noted it didn’t have the normal theatric qualities. “Due to a situation elsewhere in the league, the MLH has decided to indefinitely pause all games for the next thirty minutes.”

Theriault scoffed. “Back to the locker room, but try to stay warm. They’re not letting us on the ice.” Shane frowned. There was no precedent for stopping all games. He knew only a few games were active right now, especially since several had been completed during the day. Ilya had won in Raleigh; he’d hoped that wins for the both tonight would create enough of a good mood to be able to talk about the Boxing Day fight. Now his game was delayed for no apparent reason.

Montreal trudged back into the home locker room with murmurs of what could possibly have caused the stoppage. Shane peaked at his phone. He tried to ignore it between periods but this wasn’t a normal situation. He figured there was a chance his mom might have sent him a text about whatever was going on. It was likely she had more information than he did.

Instead, he saw a string of Instagram notifications twenty five minutes old. He frowned as he entered his passcode. He only allowed notifications from his friends and family, but none of them really used the app.

You are the best thing in my life. I love you. Always. Maybe from the first time I saw you.

I am only thinking about you right now. A million memories. Thank you for those

Whatever happens, I am with you. Safe in your heart. I believe it.

The messages from Ilya were sent in rapid succession. He read them three times, trying to understand. While Ilya was known for his dramatics, even this was a bit much for him to break the ice after their fight. Over Instagram no less.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Pike nudged Shane’s shoulder. Shane realized he had been speaking but the words weren’t clear.

“Ah, nothing.” Shane locked his phone and shoved it to the back of his locker. There was no reason to distract himself when there was still almost a full period to play.

“This pause thing is weird. Did he say it was something that happened to another team?” Pike said. He spoke a bit slower, which Shane would appreciate more if he didn’t know it was the voice Hayden often used on his children.

“Maybe some medical emergency,” J.J. suggested. Shane shrugged.

“If it’s important, they’ll tell us.” He sat down on the bench in front of his stall. There was no reason to speculate. That sort of spiraling only led to bad outcomes.

For about twenty minutes they guys chattered quietly about their plans for after the game and the rest of the weekend. Hayden talked at Shane about his kids. He seemed to understand that his captain didn’t really retain all of the words, just smiled and nodded at almost appropriate times.

The noise dropped immediately when Theriault entered the locker room. His face was tight with disappointment. “The league has decided to cancel the remaining games tonight. It is early enough in the season that they don’t expect it to be rescheduled.” He seemed upset at the idea of losing a point opportunity, especially when other teams has gotten them earlier in the day. After one last sweeping glance across the room, he left.

“What the hell?”

“Someone look it up! There has to be something online!”

The announcement placed the whole thing in the firmly weird category. Shane pulled his phone out again to check for new messages as he slowly began to strip off his gear now that it wasn’t needed. He was bent over untying his skates when his phone buzzed softly. Mom.

He answered immediately. “Hey, what is it?”

“Oh honey.”

Shane’s stomach dropped. “Mom? What is it,” he repeated. He sat up and left the right skate only half untied as his socked left foot pushed into the floor.

Through the phone he heard his mom suck in a painful breath. “Have you heard anything from Ilya?”

Shane glanced around; the only person close enough to have heard her was Hayden. Still, he turned his back to the rest of the room and tucked his chin closer to his shoulder and chest.

“Sent me a few weird messages on Instagram during my game.” His voice was tight and low. He couldn’t tell if his heart rating was picking up due to the conversation or that the conversation was happening so close to his teammates.

“Shane, you should sit down.” Yuna’s voice was getting watery.

“Mom, I just want you to tell me what’s going on!”

She was silent on the other end for a few seconds. She sounded so small and so far away when she said, “The Centaurs plane crashed in Florida.”

He had been sitting already, but he slumped backwards towards the recesses of his locker. Hayden shot him a concerned lock and seemed torn between giving him space and leaning in further to hear what his mom had to say.

“Shane? Honey?”

He took in a deep breath. Let it out. Another. And another.

“I don’t understand.” His voice was flat.

“There’s not much news right now, but they’ve confirmed that the plan crashed several miles away from the airport in Tampa.”

“What do you mean the plane crashed?” Whether they heard it from Shane or looked at their own phones, his teammates got louder. They were talking about planes and crashes and survivors and what was his mom saying?

“With the league cancelling all the games they’ve got to be toast, man.”

Shane squeezed his eyes shut and took another deep breath. “Mom?”

“They don’t know what caused it but Ilya’s plane crashed in a state park in Florida near the airport. That’s all the news is saying right now.” She gave him facts. This would be better if she didn’t sound so close to tears.

“Mom, I’m going to try to call…some people. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” Shane pulled the phone away from his ear without waiting for a response. On instinct, he clicked on one of his most recent calls. Lily.

It rang. And rang. And rang. And then there was Ilya’s voice, telling him to “Leave a voice note or something stupid. I will call if it matters.”

He stared at his phone screen as it went to voicemail. He ended the call without leaving a message and tried again. He was disappointed but not entirely surprised when the recorded voice played again.

“Shane, what do you need?” Hayden’s voice cut through the chatter again. As Shane looked up at his friend, he realized tears were starting to spill over. He blinked, hard, and shook his head.

“I can’t do this here. I need to go home. I need to call hi-“ He swallowed. “I need to go home.”

“Okay, get out of those clothes and I’ll drive you.” Hayden turned back to his own locker and started moving quickly, shucking off his sweaty compression shirt and digging for a worn, thick Voyagers shirt.

“I can get myself home, Pike,” Shane insisted, but his hands started to move, shedding his own game layers and throwing it in the bottom of the locker. He would deal with it later.

“I don’t think so, Hollander.” Hayden’s voice was firm, but a quick glance showed a tight face full of something close to worry. Surely, he wasn’t worried about Ilya. Despite his best efforts, Shane knew that Hayden and Ilya really hadn’t gained much ground with each other.

But he was firm. They dressed in their street clothes quickly and ignored the sweat that made the clean clothes unbearable almost instantly. Every twenty seconds, Shane tried to call Ilya again. Some part of him knew that there was a reason he hadn’t gotten man answer yet but he couldn’t stop trying for something different.

Hayden ushered him out of the locker room quietly. Shane brushed off looks and words from his confused teammates. Mostly, they shrugged and continued to undress and head to the showers. He caught a large frown on J.J.’s face but didn’t stop or try to explain. It was too much.

It was all too much. Luckily, they game being cancelled seemed to mean that the post-game press was also cancelled, or else the reporters had been shoved somewhere far away. It didn’t really matter. They could fine Shane all he wanted, but there was no way he would sit for an interview.

“I assume you’ve been calling him?” Hayden asked as he led Shane to his car, a large black SUV in the private lot.

“Yes. No answer.” Shane tried again.

“Do you have any of his teammate’s numbers?”

Shane’s heart clenched. No. Of course not. There was no reason for Shane Hollander to have the phone numbers of anyone on Ottawa’s team. He hadn’t officially met many of them at all. If he was publicly tied to Ilya, it would make sense for him to get to know his teammates. He wasn’t.

“No.”

Hayden grimaced. “That’s okay. Do you know who his next of kin is?”

Shane thought of Ilya’s brother, who he supposedly hadn’t spoken to since his father’s death. That was years ago. There was no world in which Ilya had Alexei as his emergency contact.

“Uh, yeah. Svetlana. Vetrova. She was the closest when he was in the States.” And oh, didn’t that hurt. He remembered the conversation they’d had one night, tucked into bed soon before the season started. Ilya had told Shane he was making Svetlana his emergency contact and giving her power of attorney. She was close, in Boston, and a good friend. She would do what Ilya would want. If it came to something dire, she would believe Shane if he told her about their relationship. Ilya hadn’t told her then; it was so soon after they decided they would be together for real.

When he’d moved to Canada, it made less sense for Svetlana to be his emergency contact. However, it wasn’t like he could give it to Shane. The people closest to Ilya at home were Shane’s parents, but there was also no way to explain that without exposing a lot more than they wanted to get out into the world in the case of an emergency. Or a nosy office worker.

“Do you have her number?” Shane knew that Hayden was prodding him along, but he appreciated it in some ways.

“Yes. You’re right, I should call her.” With a long glance at Ilya’s contact picture, he scrolled through his phone until he found Svetlana.

She picked up after two rings. “Shane Hollander. I am on the way to the airport. They called me and told me he was going into surgery but I don’t know anything else.” Her voice was clipped, her accent thicker than he had heard it before. Not that they had spoken many times. She had been to a few events for the Irina Foundation since its inception. He had heard her on the phone with Ilya several times. He knew that she suspected something of Ilya but she didn’t know. Not for sure. Maybe not until Shane called her.

“I had a game. He was messaging me, I didn’t realize-“

“Hollander. It does not matter. Are you going to Florida or not?”

He started. “Of- of course. I’m leaving the stadium now, but I’ll be on the first flight I can get on.”

“Good. I will see you there. I will text you if they send me anything.” She hung up.

Shane pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen, back to showing Svetlana’s contact information.

“That didn’t sound great.” Hayden swallowed. He stole glances at the passenger seat and Shane pretended not to notice.

“No, she’s getting to him. She said he’s…” Shane closed his eyes. Squeezed his phone until the edges dug into the meat of his hand painfully. “Ilya’s gone into surgery but she doesn’t know anything else.” Until he said it out loud to Hayden, he didn’t realize how relieved he was. His chest still hurt and there was still a numbness in his mind but he was relieved. Corpses didn’t go into surgery. Piles of ash didn’t go into surgery. If Ilya was in surgery, that meant he was alive.

“Oh, that’s good man.”

“Mmmhmm.”

Hayden hummed for a moment. “I can take you to the airport too, if you need. I’m sure you want to grab a few things at home.”

Shane started to protest but paused. It would take time to call a car or park himself at the airport. Not a lot of time, but time. And while the service he used was discrete, he did not want to risk someone telling the tabloids that Shane Hollander was rushing off to Florida after another team crashed.

“Thank you, Hayden. You should check in with Jackie.”

He nodded. “I’ll call her when you’re inside packing. I don’t think she’ll have an issue with it at all.”

Shane wanted to slump his head forward into the dash. He had seen Hayden worried before, but it was exhausting to have the worry pointed at him instead of the Pike children or a stressful game. Instead, he turned to his phone and started to call his mom.

“Honey, have you heard anything? The news isn’t saying much still, but with the games cancelled-“

“Mom, I’m almost home to pack. I need you to get me a ticket on the first plane out of Montreal headed to Tampa.”

“Of course baby, if that’s what you want. Are you driving?” He could hear her in motion already. He imagined her moving through the house to the kitchen where she left her laptop set up on the counter overnight. Just in case. In this moment, he was glad she was always ready for just in case.

“No, Hayden is driving me. He’s going to take me to the airport too.” As he said this, they pulled into Shane’s driveway. He was out of the car and to the front door before Hayden had managed to put it in park and turn the engine off.

He was packing blindly. One duffle bag, underwear, pants, shirts, socks. He slipped on a pair of tennis shoes, tossed his away game toiletries bag into the duffle and zipped it up. He went to his office for his passport. He stood in his living room for a few seconds longer than he really needed to, but he didn’t have a checklist for something like this. What he had packed would surely be enough. He realized there was no black, went to turn back to his room, but stopped. Dug his feet into the ground and slowly turned towards the front door. He wouldn’t need it.

He was back in Hayden’s car in under four minutes.

Shane had been through the Montreal airport thousands of times. It was easy to slip into autopilot after Hayden dropped him off at the departing flight entrance. On the drive to the airport his mom had sent him a text message with his flight number and a message to check his email. All the flight details were there. The flight wouldn’t leave for another hour and a half, but there wasn’t anything sooner. It was the only direct flight between the two cities. The next direct flight wouldn’t be until tomorrow, and the other options would take hours to arrive in Tampa. He was going to be on that plane.

He had Global Entry, so he breezed through the security line. He found his gate. He sat at the seat closest to the kiosk. There weren’t that many people waiting at this gate or the ones nearby, but he pulled down the hat that Hayden had handed him before he got out of the car. As he turned up the collar on his jacket, he was glad for it. He did not want people to see him waiting on a flight to Tampa. He did not want anyone to ask questions. Most of all, he did not want to smile for fans.

Eventually a gate attendant arrived and people started to fill the seats. Shane sat with the duffle bag on his lap, hands folded on top, staring at the floor in front of the counter. All he could think about was Ilya once telling him about Ryan Price’s fear of flying.

“It is brave to be a professional athlete and hate flying so much,” he had said. Shane didn’t really know Price, but the idea of the big guy being scared of flying was absurd at the time. Later, he learned the enforcer was a nice guy. A bit timid, in all honesty.

Shane thought about the conversation, how Ilya had asked how many planes actually crash. Shane had looked it up at the time. They had been surprised that so few crashes were fatal. He remembered the odds of dying were something like one in forty million. Naturally, when you take as many flights as they did, your odds of being involved went up. But Shane had looked through several years of crash data, and most crashes in North America involved small, private planes with a handful of passengers. Most incidents occurred during take off or landing. Most injuries came from your body hitting interior parts of the plane on impact. Or burns, after the crash. Some people died afterwards due to smoke inhalation. Sometimes the location of the crash and how long it takes first responders to make it to the scene and get passengers to a hospital is the biggest decider of life and death.

Shane squeezed his eyes shut in the middle of the Montreal airport and resisted the urge to pull out his phone and look at all the statistics again. He did not want to know how they had changed over the years. If this was a good or bad year for incidents. What the most likely kind of injury was. What kind of plane Ilya had been on, and how that might dictate the outcomes. Where the crash was. How far away the closest hospital was.

He was grateful what it was time to board. He tucked himself into his seat, his bag in the overhead bin and his phone with it. That lasted about two minutes before he realized Svetlana might sent him a text before takeoff, or right after he landed, and he wanted to see it as soon as possible. So he gripped it in his hand until it was time to turn on airplane mode. Then, he tucked in into the seat pocket, put his headphones on, and stared out the window. It had been dark outside for a long time, so there was nothing to see.

He tried not to think about plane crashes. He really tried.

Chapter End Notes

hey i’ve been absolutely consumed by heated rivalry fic and it’s been enough to end a several years long writing drought. have fun with the inside of my brain.

shane is autistic here in the way i am autistic so if you would like to say something about the cold narration. you can say it i guess.

i am not a rereader or a rewatcher and i refuse to fact check any canon information so if i get something wrong. the canon divergence tag is there for more than one reason i guess. however, i will do research on things like where a plane could’ve possibly crashed close to the tampa airport or whether there’s direct flights between montreal and tampa. there is one, every day, that leaves at 5:30 pm but i’m chosing to ignore that and make it later to suit my purposes. this will be a theme.
i will most certainly change the summary to something better later but that isn’t anyone’s business.

Chapter 2

Chapter Notes

The plane landed in Tampa around one in the morning. As soon as the wheels were down, Shane turned off airplane mode and went to Svetlana’s contact information. While he was in the air, she’d sent the address of a hospital close to the airport. No other updates. He wanted to ask for more. Anything.

He didn’t ask.

The wasted minutes were agonizing. The downside of a commercial flight meant a lot of passengers and waiting for the gates to be assigned. The late hour was helpful but it was hard for Shane to see the positives. He still needed to get off the plane and get through customs and get an Uber. The flight had been long enough for him to get stuck thinking about how he hadn’t showered after the game. He was supposed to be going to a hospital where things needed to be clean and sterile and he had over two thirds of hockey game grossness on his body. He’d washed his hands in the airplane sink several times.

His seat was toward the front of the plane, so Shane managed to be one of the first to debark. He pulled his hat down low and only looked up to check the signs that pointed towards customs. There was only one couple in front of him in line, but few agents were working this late even on a weekend. He moved his bag from his right shoulder to his left. Back to the right. He was about to move it again when an agent waved him over to the enclosed glass booth. Shane wordlessly slid his passport through the small slot and reluctantly looked up at the agent. Trying to avoid eye contact in this situation wouldn’t end well.

The agent’s squinted her eyes. Shane’s stomach dropped as he thought about being recognized here. Hockey was not even close to the most popular sport here in the southern states, but Florida had two teams. The odds weren’t zero.

Shane knows she must have asked questions and he must have answered them but he didn’t remember any of it. She slid his passport back through the little window and wished him a good evening. He managed a tight smile before he picked up the pace to make it to the arrivals exit area where his ride would be.

He was in the back seat of the Uber when he decided he did need to text Svetlana. The name of the hospital was only so helpful. He had fifteen minutes until he showed up at a hospital in the middle of the night with no idea where to go or what to expect.

Where are you?

The small “read” message appeared almost immediately. Small bouncing dots appeared and disappeared just as fast.

Hospital, obviously.

He closed his eyes and let out a sharp breath. In another moment, he would find it endearing that Ilya and Svetlana were so similar. Instead he was frustrated.

Where? I’ll be there in ten.

Svetlana sent him a fuzzy picture of a map with the message: Third floor waiting room.

A waiting room wasn’t a good sign. While it was well past any normal visiting hours, Shane was sure that Svetlana would have bullied her way into Ilya’s room if he had one. Where would he be if not in a room?

“Hey, do you know what building you’re going to,” the driver asked from the front seat. Shane looked up but regretted meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror and looked back down.

“Yeah, uh, the main hospital building in the center. Thanks.”

It had broken him out of the spiral. Svetlana wouldn’t be sitting in a waiting room in the middle of the night if there was no one to wait for. Ilya was still alive. That’s what mattered.

Shane readjusted his grip on his duffle bag, still looped over his shoulder, four times as the driver circled the parking lot for a place to drop Shane off. “Here is fine,” he finally said as the driver went to make another pass. The guy shrugged and put the car in park. It was a little far from the doors Shane suspected he needed to go through based on the map but he had to get out of the car or he’d scream.

Through two layers of sliding glass automatic doors was a bay of elevators. Shane pressed the button and pulled his hat down low again. The low murmur of people nearby struck him suddenly with the thought that the rest of the Ottawa team could be in this hospital as well. He had managed not to look at any news since boarding the plane in Montreal, but he felt maybe he should have.

The door dinged open in front of him and he stepped inside quickly. Pushed the button for the third floor. Waited on the slowest elevator he had been on in years.

The door opened to a mostly empty hallway. Shane frowned as he stepped out of the elevator. On the wall next to the elevator call button was a map that looked like the one Svetlana had sent. It did thankfully mark the location of the elevators.

“Good thing there’s only one waiting room,” he muttered as he gripped his duffle strap again and set off around the corner. The waiting room and a large nurse station was just around the corner and seemed to act like some sort of gate to the patient rooms.

It also meant everyone waiting on the third floor was in the room. Shane paused at the corner and peaked around. He spotted Svetlana immediately. She was close to the nurse station, back straight and staring ahead. Her hair was darker than he had seen it last. Tonight, her curls were pulled back tightly away from her face towards the nape of her neck. She was wearing loose black trousers and a faded Boston Bears T-shirt. He didn’t know whether is was Ilya’s or her father’s but he knew who it was for.

Most of the other people scattered through the room were in various stages of sleep. Several had their heads tipped back, some with heads open. A young girl had curled up in the wide chair she slept on but was still holding the hand of the person sitting next to her. He didn’t recognize any of the people, even vaguely, which meant if the Centaurs were still in the building, at least they weren’t there.

Shane approached Svetlana cautiously. As he neared, she blinked and turned to face him.

“How…”

“He was in surgery for almost five hours.” Svetlana’s voice was thick and low. She glanced at the seat next to her, which was all Shane needed to drop his bag and take it. He had the feeling that whatever else she might know would not be received well standing.

Shane tried to put the pieces together. The messages from Ilya had come in just before five o’clock. Even if he had gotten to the hospital thirty minutes later, which was almost physically impossible, he would have only been out for a few hours. Considering they lived in the real world where it would take time for emergency crews to respond to the crash, get Ilya out of the wreckage, and back to the hospital, he must have been out very recently.

“Did they give you any updates?” Shane did not want to look at her. But this was important. He turned to find Svetlana’s eyes on him already, piercing and sad.

“They said he is stable now. He will be on the good stuff for a while,” she huffed. “They had to amputate.”

Shane’s throat felt like it was closing. “Amputate?”

She nodded once. “His left leg. Above the knee. Was crushed, apparently.”

Each word shattered Shane’s world. Somehow in the panic of getting to Ilya and trying to convince himself that Ilya was still alive, he had not considered the millions of nightmare scenarios he would be facing.

As a professional athlete he’d thought, a lot, about what could happen to his body. How a bad hit in a game, a mundane incident, or simply age could take him out of the game. He’d thought about broken bones and torn muscles. Things that could be repaired with time, even if they never felt quite like they did before. It had not occurred to him to think of a limb completely missing, of a body off balance enough to be foreign. To lose control of the thing he was surest of.

“Oh, Ilya.” The words were quiet, like they had been pulled from his throat involuntarily and only just barely. His poor baby.

“The rest is minor in comparison,” Svetlana continued. “Some burns on his arm, a few cuts, probably a head injury.”

He nodded. He should say something. He knew that but there weren’t any words he knew that felt like they were even close to okay in this moment. Svetlana did not offer anything else. Shane couldn’t keep looking at her.

He leaned forward with his head in his hands and tried to take a long breath. It was about half as deep as he wanted it to be. All of his focus was in his left leg, the fire in his shins as he pressed his foot into the ground as hard as he could. Gone. Just gone. Ilya wouldn’t play hockey again, wouldn’t skate. Hell, Shane didn’t know if he was going to walk.

It didn’t seem real. He could not picture Ilya as anything less than he last saw him. Tall, broad, so comfortable in his body. While Shane’s style of hockey was known for control, people did not see how easily Ilya wielded it, precision hidden under an air of frantic energy that kept opponents on their toes. Shane could not reconcile this with Ilya in a hospital bed, or a wheelchair, or standing lopsided because his leg was gone.

Footsteps nearby jerked Shane from his thoughts. He jerked his head towards Svetlana again, eyes wide.

“His team? Are they here?” Shane wanted to look towards the footsteps, but he could not risk locking eyes with another MLH player in this moment.

Svetlana shook her head. “The last ones left after he got out of surgery. A few others are patients, too, but they are on another floor. Most of team went to hotel, but the ones that stayed are in another waiting room. No hope of seeing Ilya until the morning.”

Shane swallowed. That was good. Then the thoughts settled. “Until morning? Are you sure?”

Svetlana glanced towards the nurse’s station, some fire returning to her gaze. “Yes. Hag would not let me in. Visiting hours start at eight.”

All her information passed on, she seemed to wilt a little bit. Shane remembered that this was hard for her too.

“Thank you,” he managed. “For being here. For answering my call.”

Her lips pressed together. “Ilyusha is important to me. I am glad he has someone here.”

“I know he did not want you to find out about…us like this.” Shane scratched at his palms as he considered his next move. “I am sorry.”

“I have suspected,” she said simply. “I wish he could have told me. But we are here now. There are others who will be much more shocked if you choose to stay in the morning.” Her words were pointed. It was like she was peering straight into him. Straight into the guilt-soaked memories of every time Ilya asked about telling someone in their life about the relationship. Of the fight they had two weeks ago; not about telling his teammates, just about being in the same room as his teammates outside the arena.

Shane nodded slowly. He had thought about it, briefly, on the plane. His next game was in three days. He had time to be here but there simply wasn’t a way he could be here with Ilya and not be seen by a single member of the Centaurs organization. He wished he could run this by Ilya, get his thoughts and approval. With a lump in his throat, he realized he probably had it two weeks before. Ilya really liked his teammates, his coaching staff. He did not party with them like he had with the Bears when he was younger, but there were plenty of reasons for that. Shane among them.

“I know. I just don’t think I can bring myself to care.”

“Good.” The word was soft but Shane knew he had passed a test. Svetlana was willing to let him be here, but she would not let him hide, even for her friend’s sake. That much was clear. “You should get some sleep. It was a long day, and tomorrow will be longer.”

Shane frowned at Svetlana. While sleep sounded appealing, he wasn’t sure it was in the cards. He wanted to offer to let her sleep. She waved away the thought before he voiced it. “I will sleep too. They will wake me if anything happens with Ilyusha. And I added you to the list of approved visitors before you got here.”

Protesting would be pointless. Shane nodded and turned his head away from her. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and scratched his palms again. “Okay, um. I’ll be back.”

The restroom wasn’t far. He stepped into the men’s room and to the sink. He did not look at himself in the mirror. He would typically be worried to be so exposed but the quiet of the late-night hospital got to him. He turned the water on, cold, and splashed it on his face. Ran wet fingers through his hair again and again. More water on his face. He let it run in rivers down his arms and drip down his fingers onto the ground. Finally, he turned the faucet off and slowly began to pull shitty paper towels out of the holder to dry off.

It was only then that he looked up at his reflection. His hair looked like shit now, so he ran his fingers through it a few more times. He brought his fingertips to his eyes and pushed, hard. Once the swirling colors in the darkness started to make him feel dizzy, he let his hands drop.

His fingers trembled as he pulled out his phone to write a quick message to his parents. It took him ten minutes to find the right words.

In Tampa. They amputated his leg. I’ll get to see him in the morning.

It was only after he hit send that he let himself cry.

Chapter End Notes

do not expect daily updates the whole time but this is just a worm in my brain. if you want to chat between the chapters, i'm unhinged-ceramic-frog on tumblr

Chapter 3

Chapter Notes

It was not comfortable spending the night in the St. Joseph’s Hospital third floor waiting room. Svetlana did appear to get some sleep, leaned back against the wall behind her chair. Shane tried to do the same for a while. When that didn’t work, he tried to prop his elbow on the arm of the chair and his head on his hand. That worked for about five minutes before he slouched down in the chair and tried to stretch his legs out as far as he could. Every time he opened his eyes more time had passed than he had expected so maybe he was getting some sleep. He didn’t feel any more rested.

A little before seven in the morning the waiting room started to liven up. The night shift began their transfer to the morning crew. As the employees moved, the other waiters in the room started to come to life too. Shane pulled his hat low and kept his face turned towards Svetlana and the nurse’s station. He watched Vetrova wake up, like she was defrosted slowly. After a few long blinks she checked the clock and hummed.

“Visiting hours are supposed to begin at eight.” She did not elaborate further.

“Uh, yes?” He had seen it on a few signs on the floor. And looked it up to check if it was accurate.

“Time is mostly relative, my friend,” Svetlana purred. She stood up and took a few steps towards the nurse’s station. The nurse who had been at the front of the desk all night, the hag, had disappeared with the shift change already. Shane watched mesmerized as Svetlana transformed. Her shoulders curled in and her spine hunched. He couldn’t see her face or catch all the words but she sounded small, anxious and unsure. Clearly, her main tactic was guilt.

“We haven’t heard anything in several hours. They would not let us see him last night,” she explained tearfully.

The nurse rummaged around the desk and made some clicks on the computer.

Whatever she said pleased Svetlana. The woman’s shoulders relaxed slightly as she murmured a few more soft words and turned back to Shane with a grin.

“They are checking on him now but we can see him as soon as they are done.”

“Is he awake?”

She pursed her lips. “She did not know. Unlikely, I think.”

He nodded once, then again. “It does not matter. We will be there.”

Svetlana gave him a small smile, more kind than her previous looks.

“His team might be here once official hours start. How do you want to handle that?” She was gentler than he expected.

“They will see me. I won’t say more than I have to.” Svetlana’s eyes flashed, so he backpedaled hard. “Ilya should get to tell them what he wants. I won’t take that from him.” He should get to tell you too, Shane thought.

She relaxed slightly. “You are right. He has a choice.”

“He thinks they are good to tell,” he offered. “And I think I could take them in a fight right now if I needed to.”

That made her laugh. Really laugh. It warmed something in his chest to pull something out of her. He tried not to think about what it could have been like, if they had gotten to know each other before this. There wasn’t anything to be done about it now anyway.

“Ms. Vetrova?” From around the corner of the desk, a nurse weas waiting. Shane stood instinctively as Svetlana did. The nurse frowned up at him and cut her eyes to Svetlana.

“I added Mr. Hollander to the approved visitor’s list last night.” There was no budge in her voice.

The nurse nodded. “Of course. We’re trying to limit the number of visitors in Mr. Rozanov’s room to three, so you might have to rotate if others come to see him this morning.” She turned and led them down the hall. She did not have to check if they followed. Shane figured that she was used to worried family members hanging on to everything. As they walked, she said her name and said something about the room number and the doctor but Shane did not process any of the words.

The room was far down the hall, away from the waiting room and nurse’s station. While the privacy was nice, Shane worried about how quick anyone could get here if they needed them.

He’s stable, Shane reminded himself. There’s no reason to need anyone.

“He’s been out since his surgery, but that sort of sleep isn’t very restful. Mr. Rozanov is on a lot of medication,” the nurse warned. “It’s likely that he’ll come in and out of consciousness with varying states of awareness and ability to remember being awake. Be patient with him and try to avoid stress when you can. If he has an adverse reaction, use the call button and we’ll help step in.”

With that, the nurse left them in front of the closed door. Shane knew that Svetlana was beside him. That she must have complicated feelings too. It was hard to care when Ilya was on the other side of the door.

He pushed it open slowly and stepped into the room. Light curtains were drawn across the windows and the weak sunlight of the morning filtered in softly. In another place and time, it would be good lighting, and seeing Ilya still asleep in bed after him was endearing.

In a hospital room in Tampa Florida, it made Shane want to rip his lungs out. Ilya looked like shit. He had clearly been sitting on the left side of the plane, the side that went down. His face was bruised pretty bad and there was a large cut on his lip. He could see angry red skin disappearing into the sleeve of his hospital gown. His hair looked like it had been combed and laid dull and frizzy on his forehead. The loss of the curls hurt more than he expected.

Shane let his eyes track lower. Even though Svetlana had told him, the air was knocked from his chest when he saw the way the blanket fell to the bed where Ilya’s knee should be.

Svetlana wordlessly stepped around him to sit in the chair on the right side of the bed. She placed a gentle hand on the back of Ilya’s where it laid on the bed. Shane thought he heard soft murmurings in Russian but his ears were fuzzy. He couldn’t look away but he thought he might die if he kept looking.

“Sit, Shane,” Svetlana said finally. It was firm enough to get him to move. He bit his tongue as he had to walk around the bed to sit on the left side. He rubbed his palms hard against his knees. He did it again. It wasn’t enough. He used the short nails of his right hand to scratch at the palm of his left and then vice versa.

If he touched Ilya, this was real. Shane Hollander did not have vivid dreams. He didn’t remember most of them, but he couldn’t recall ever touching something in a dream. If he reached out and touched Ilya then this nightmare was real.

Ilya’s hand twitched. Shane reached out instinctively and curled his fingers over the back of Ilya’s hand. The touch brought out a quiet sob that Svetlana was nice enough to not say anything about.

“Do you want any time alone?” She asked several minutes later. He shook his head quickly.

“No, stay. He should have people here when he wakes up.”

“If you change your mind, tell me.”

They continued to sit in silence. Shane stole glances towards the heart monitor that displayed steady beats. After the first twitch, he didn’t see much movement. Ilya looked exhausted in his sleep, but he did appear to be sleeping.

Shane jumped when Svetlana’s phone dinged. He wasn’t sure how long they’d sat in silence but it seemed wrong to break it.

“Some of his teammates want to come by and see him. Is that okay? I can tell them one at a time.”

Shane bit his lip and nodded with a glance at Ilya’s face.

“I don’t want to leave, but they can come.”

Svetlana tapped out a response on her phone and it wasn’t five minutes later that Wyatt Hayes appeared in the small window of the door.

If someone was going to be the first to see him, it was good it was Wyatt. The goaltender was a nice guy and Ilya had spoken highly of his teammate. He would be able to break the ice to the other Centaurs in a way that made sense, Shane hopped. At least a way that didn’t bring an angry mob to the hospital waiting room.

Hayes darted his eyes between Svetlana and Shane when he entered the room and shut the door behind him. A long look at Ilya seemed to assure him that his captain was alive but not awake.

“I can’t say I expected this.”

Shane laughed. He couldn’t help it. It settled Hayes somehow and pulled Shane back to the task at hand.

“I had to be here,” he explained simply. Wyatt studied him for another long moment before dropping into a chair opposite the foot of the bed. Here, he glanced between Svetlana and Shane a few more times.

“Has he been awake at all,” Hayes asked. As Shane looked harder, he could tell how worn out the guy was. There were deep bags under his eyes and the hint of a bruise on his forehead. Shane was startled by the reminder that this man was also on a plane that crashed less than twenty-four hours ago. He had no idea how many of Ilya’s teammates were injured.

“No, about as lively as rock,” Svetlana huffed. “Nurse says he will be in and out for a while because of the pain medication.”

“They had Boods on the good stuff last night for his arm so I can’t imagine what they’ve got him on,” Hayes said.

“How is the team?” Shane asked. Everyone in the room was a bit surprised he’d asked, but it pulled Hayes further into okay with this territory.

“Coach Wiebe has a pretty nasty concussion; Boodram broke his arm. Dykstra has whiplash and one of our rooks got a few pretty bad burns. Some bumps and bruises on the rest of us.” Wyatt trailed off as he looked at Ilya in the bed. The words went without saying: Ilya had gotten the worst of it.

And oh, didn’t that hurt. If Ilya had been in any other seat on that airplane, he would be walking out of this hospital today. He’d be awake right now. He’d play hockey again. Something ugly gurgled in his stomach that he wished anyone else had been in Ilya’s seat.

“They have cancelled your games, yes?”

Hayes looked a little startled. “I’m. Not sure, actually. Even if they did want us to play a game right now, I don’t think there’s any world where this team gets on the ice.”

“The league cancelled games everywhere last night,” Shane offered. “There’s no way they make you play yet.”

As he spoke, a small groan came from the bed. All six eyes in the room darted to Ilya as he rumbled.

“Ilya?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Ilya pulled his eyes open slowly. His head lolled towards Shane as a low noise started in his throat but didn’t really come out as word.

Svetlana spoke slowly in Russian, which sharpened his eyes ever so slightly. Shane bit his tongue. He should have taken learning Russian more seriously. Now translation was just another hurdle between them.

“Sveta?” Ilya’s voice was hoarse and surprised. He made a few Russian sounding noises with questionable success and focused his gaze on Shane again.

“People here-“ he said with a confusion and hint of alarm. Shane smiled and squeezed Ilya’s hand. This did not seem to comfort the other man.

“Shane, will see,” he urged. Shane brought his other hand to the bed so he could hold Ilya’s between his two. Of course, even half conscious, Ilya was worried for Shane’s benefit. Shane wondered absentmindedly if Ilya remembered the last time they’d spoken was a fight.

“It’s alright, my love. Everything is alright.”

Ilya made one more confused noise that Shane shushed away and he seemed to settle. Shane could feel Svetlana’s gaze on him and the apparent lack of Wyatt’s. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton. He wanted to give Ilya the opportunity to tell his friends on his own terms. It was still a kind of purgatory for them to know and yet know nothing at all.

Before anyone could speak again, the door was pushed open. Shane expected it to be a nurse or doctor but looked up when he heard the sharp inhale. Luca Haas stood frozen in the doorway, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

“Shane Hollander.”

Shane grimaced slightly. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m so sorry, the nurse said the visitor limit was three and I thought only Hazy and Ms. Vetrova were here and I wanted to see him and-”

“Haas, it’s okay,” Hayes said as he moved to stand next to the rookie. Shane had a hard time believing that when he started in the MLH he looked as young as this kid. Ilya had spoken fondly of him, and he was gaining his footing well in the league for someone who didn’t go to the minors.

“I’m sorry,” Haas said again as he backed out of the room. Hayes didn’t even hesitate before following.

Svetlana hummed softly. “I am glad that even though he moved to boring Ottawa for you he found good people there.”

Shane’s eyes snapped up to hers. She said it so flippantly, as if it was fact. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Ilya had told her.

Shane was the reason Ilya had gone to Ottawa, though. The hockey world had spent months wondering why such a generational talent would request a trade away from a team he seemed to love, who he had brought success to. Shane had taken advantage of Ilya’s willingness to be the one to make the move.

The thought curdled immediately. If not for Shane, Ilya would not be an Ottawa Centaur. And if he didn’t play for Ottawa, he would not have been on that plane.

Svetlana hovered at the door as he dry heaved into the en suite bathroom’s toilet. The only thing he’d eaten since his game had been an airplane package of pretzels, but the meager contents of his stomach were gone.

“Shane? Sveta?” Ilya sounded more alert than he had the first time. Svetlana went back to the bed; Shane could see her feet from his spot on the bathroom floor.

“He’s here, Ilyusha, he will be right back.” Shane figured that Svetlana had spoken in English for his benefit and not Ilya’s.

“Sveta, I do not think I can feel my leg.”

Shane’s stomach spasmed again. He wasn’t sure he could stand if he wanted to.

Ilya’s voice faded away again for a few minutes, but eventually the Russian murmurs returned. Shane squeezed his eyes shut tighter when he heard his name again, thick in Ilya’s addled state.

He brought himself to his knees. Raised one foot, then the other. The hospital bathroom had rails along the wall, which he used to pull himself up. When he stepped out of the bathroom, Ilya’s eyes were on him immediately.

“Lyubimyy,” Ilya breathed. Shane stepped towards the bed, hand reaching out when Ilya’s face contorted with a jerk of pain.

“Moya noga,” he hissed. Svetlana blinked as she gripped his right shoulder and continued to speak to him in Russian. The words were coming too fast for Shane to understand. She kept speaking as Ilya grimaced again.

“Moya noga,” he said with more force. Shane hurried to press the nurse call button by the door. Ilya repeated the same phrase again and again and again and Shane did not know how many times he’d said it before the nurse appeared and started to work at the pole controlling Ilya’s medicine drips.

Shane slipped out the door and pressed his back flat to the wall as Ilya’s cries of pain echoed into the empty hallway. He did not need a translation to understand what moya noga meant.

Things went quiet quickly. The nurse left the room, cast a quick glance in his direction, and continued back to her station. He must have sat outside the room for twenty minutes waiting for noise inside before he stood up and wandered down the hall.

Shane didn’t really know where he was going or what he’d do if he got there. He couldn’t stay in Ilya’s room.

His feet brought him to the hospital cafeteria, down a couple floors and around a few corners. The thought of eating made his stomach clench again but he got a hot black tea and slunk to a spot in the corner of the room.

It was a large, open space. It was a great place to be recognized or run into a Cens player. Shane knew this objectively. The memory of agonized yelling from Ilya’s room was enough to keep him in place.

Shane pulled out his phone almost absent mindedly. There were plenty of messages that he’d ignored since he’d gotten to the hospital the night before. He felt a pang when he saw a few missed calls from his parents. He dialed his mom’s number.

Yuna picked up immediately. “Shane? Is everything okay?”

He choked out a small sob. “No Mom, I don’t think so.”

His mom tried to offer soothing condolences over the phone as he cried softly. His dad’s voice mixed in eventually, and Shane knew they had him on speaker phone. He could picture them curled up on the couch as they waited for this call, shoulders pressed together and heads bent.

“Honey, your dad and I could be on the next flight to Florida. Do you want us to come?” Yuna’s offer was tentative, like she knew she could spook Shane with a small misstep.

“Is there anyone else there with you guys,” David asked. That question was more manageable.

“Yeah, uh, his teammates are around. I’ve seen a few of them.” He paused, but the silence from his parents was a little eerie. “His friend, Svetlana, is here too. She’s technically his power of attorney.”

“That’s good, hon. You can get some rest if you need to, and people will still be around.”

“Mom, I don’t think-“ Shane stopped himself. The words weren’t clean yet. He had to say this right or he’d sound crazy.

“Shane, we’re going to start packing.” David seemed to have made up his mind. It was sweet, the way his parents were willing to drop everything to come to Ilya’s side. To Shane.

“I don’t know what to do. I can’t leave him but I can’t be with him right now.” The words grated his tongue, tore it to shreds as he spoke them. He pressed his feet into the ground, hard, but that shot another jolt of guilt through his knee and thigh and hip and settled somewhere in his ribcage.

“I can’t imagine how hard it is. But you are going to get through this,” Yuna urged. Shane shook his head several times before he remembered they couldn’t see him.

“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault and when Ilya isn’t high as a kite he’s going to know it’s my fault and I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Shane.” His name sounded like it had been punched out of his father. “It isn’t your fault, son. Not at all. And Ilya already knows that.”

Shane bit his lip. “He’s in so much pain.”

“Baby, we’ll be there soon, okay? Just give us a few hours. You don’t need to do this alone.”

His parents said a few more things, chattered mostly to themselves as they booked a flight and moved through the house packing. He mumbled some sort of goodbye when they hung up the phone and like a marionette with his strings cut, he slumped forward onto the cafeteria table.

Some part of him was glad that his parents would be here. His mom would know what to do. His dad would know what to say. They would be so kind and so supportive for Ilya. The thought of Svetlana and his mother in a room together was almost enough to make Shane huff out a laugh. Pity the poor health care professionals who would have to face that two headed monster.

It would be damning, he thought, for Ilya’s teammates to see Shane’s parents here. While there weren’t many reasons that someone’s longtime rival would visit them in the hospital, there was precisely one reason his parents would be there too. He felt anxious about having to explain himself if someone pushed too hard or got too curious but he largely didn’t care. The MLH could burn effigies of him at every arena across the country for being an evil gay traitor at this point. It wouldn’t even put a dent in what he deserved to pay for his hand in this.

His phone rang. Svetlana’s name flashed on the screen. He wanted to decline it immediately but a panicked thought of some horrible complication happening upstairs made him answer.

“Are you done punching yourself?” Her voice was harsh but hushed. He imagined her in the hallway or the corner of the room as Ilya slept. Surely, she wouldn’t speak in front of him like this even if he wasn’t likely to remember it.

“I can’t watch him in pain when it’s my fault,” Shane whispered.

She scoffed. “This isn’t your fault, Hollander. And he needs you right now. So, you need to get over yourself.”

“You don’t know,” he sighed. “It’s my fault he was on that plane. He’ll know it when he’s awake enough to remember anything.”

“I do not know about this, but I know Ilyusha. He would not blame you even if it was your fault, Shane Hollander. He will be very hurt if you’re not here when he needs you though.”

“I’ve hurt him enough already.” Shane pulled the phone away from his ear and hung up. He regretted it almost immediately. Svetlana was not the type to grovel or try to right wrongs. She wouldn’t call back or even answer his call back.

He pressed his forehead to the table and shut his eyes. He was ready to find a dark corner to curl up in and disappear. He thought about meditating but he could only think about the feeling of his foot on the ground and the fabric of his pants against his leg and how Ilya’s leg was gone. It was like when you became aware of your breath and suddenly you can’t stop. He had never been more aware of his left leg than he was now.

Some people described phantom limbs that were gone but their brain still processed pain or feeling in the appendage. Ilya’s phantom leg was haunting him instead.

His phone rang again. It was Svetlana. He was a little shocked she was ready to admonish him so soon. He let it ring out. Immediately, it rang again. He wasn’t going to be able to play this game.

“I can’t do this, okay? I can’t be in there with him. I just can’t!” He snapped. The line was quiet. He glanced at the screen to check she hadn’t hung up.

“Shane?” Ilya croaked. The floor opened up from under his feet.

“Baby, I’m sorry-“ he started. He was cut off by the distinct beeps of the line going dead.

Chapter End Notes

moya noga - my leg

things are gonna get worse before they can get better but i promise they will get better eventually.

my tumblr is unhinged-ceramic-frog

Chapter 4

Chapter Notes

Shane stared at the phone in his hand. He called Svetlana. It rang out. He called again and it went straight to voicemail. He started to press the call button again but he already knew where it was going and didn’t think he could really handle it again. His urge to smooth this over was almost enough to send him up to the third floor. Some grotesque mix of guilt and fear and self-preservation kept him in his seat in the cafeteria.

Never mind Ilya and his pain. Svetlana would kill him. If he showed his face in that hospital room again, he was a dead man. He probably wasn’t completely safe where he was for long. She would stay with Ilya but that would not stop her from sending someone to do the business for her. Ilya’s teammates would gladly do anything Svetlana asked, especially if it was take his head back to her on a platter.

Shane was breathing too hard. He knew this. He was sitting still and he heaved like he just finished the last shift of a long, brutal game. He put his phone down on the table and closed his eyes. Tried to breathe deeper, slower. He’d counted seventeen inhales when someone spoke.

“I know this isn’t easy. Especially with no one in your corner. I hope you know that we’re here for you too.”

Shane’s eyes snapped open. Wyatt Hayes stood on the other side of the table with his hands tucked in his pockets. Shane hadn’t imagined he’d be Svetlana’s first pick for mercenary, or that that lulling him into a false sense of security would be the best strategy, but goalies were an unpredictable bunch.

“I don’t think that’s true,” Shane scoffed.

Hayes frowned. “Do you really think our guys would be like that? I know some barns allow some truly heinous shit but the Cens as an organization aren’t the kind to let that slide.” He was being defensive. Shane’s brow furrowed, confused as to what he was even trying to defend. It dawned on him slowly and felt a small crack in his chest as he started to mourn what was already lost.

“I don’t mean that,” he said softly. “I’m glad. Really glad. That’d you’d be supportive of your captain with a man.” Shane swallowed and squared his shoulders to the table, unable to meet Hayes’s eyes.

“I’m sure if Ilya was with another guy maybe it’d be true. Another player is different. But it doesn’t really matter anymore, I think.”

Wyatt’s frown deepened. At this point, he looked like a Muppet, Shane thought. “Doesn’t matter? Is this about his,” Wyatt started. He took a deep breath before he continued. “Ilya is still a part of this team, still our captain. We’re not throwing him out now.”

“And that’s good. He’ll need you.”

“Hollander, I don’t think I understand.” At this point, Wyatt pulled out the chair across from Shane and sat down. He folded his hands together and peered directly into Shane’s eyes, which had him flinching away. Shane had gathered that Hayes must truly not know about what had happened over the phone but he would probably be able to see it all if he looked too hard.

“It’s my fault,” Shane whispered. He looked up. To hell with it, let him see it. “And I just told Ilya I couldn’t see him so I might as well leave and never come back.”

Wyatt’s eyes widened for a moment before he furrowed his brow. He glanced around Shane as if trying to take catalogue of the situation.

“I don’t think any of us have all the puzzle pieces we need to get the whole picture here,” the other man said gently.

Shane squeezed his eyes shut. He did not want to lay his soul out on a dingy hospital cafeteria table for Wyatt Hayes, but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. If someone had to know, Wyatt was a good pick, he thought. He’d be able to help Ilya.

“He wanted people to know. He wanted you guys to know,” Shane admitted. It hurt to know that Ilya had been right, that his teammates wouldn’t cause problems. That he could have had more support the whole time. “The plan was to keep working on the foundation together and playing in Canada until we retired. Then maybe go public.”

“Retirement? You both have so much playing time left.” Hayes’s words were like a bomb. He and Shane realized at the same moment. No matter how much playing time Shane had left now, Ilya’s time on the ice was over. Shane squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think about his leg.

“It was all we could think of. There was no easy way to handle it. And I was stupid and scared.”

“I get that. I still don’t see how anything is your fault, Shane.” The use of his name had him looking up. Wyatt Hayes was a kind man. It was evident in his eyes, in his words. He meant the things he was saying. Somehow, it made everything worse.

“Whose idea do you think it was for Ilya to play in Ottawa? I wanted him closer to me, to my parents. We thought it would lessen people’s perception of the rivalry too. He went to the Centaurs because I wanted him to and how he’s never going to play again.”

“Shane,” Hayes said carefully. “Unless you caused the airplane engine failure, this isn’t on you. You have to understand that.”

Shane shook his head furiously. “But it is,” he insisted.

Wyatt’s eyes flashed. “Bullshit.”

Shane blinked. He realized his nails were digging into his palms. He slowly unfurled his fists underneath the table.

“You’re important, but you’re not that important, Hollander. Ilya still had free will. He still chose Ottawa. He had good things here. And you didn’t crash that plane.” Hayes was firm. He had a glint in his eyes that Shane was used to seeing from goalies in the net. Any good hockey player could see movements unfolding in front of them, the great ones could see several moves ahead like it was a chess game. Goalies possessed an uncanny ability to gaze into the future and predict the movements of every man on the ice. And Wyatt Hayes was using his goalie magic on him now.

Even though he knew the goalie magic was at place, it was like Shane wasn’t able to make any shot other than the one Hayes had already seen. He was speechless and frozen in place and he couldn’t find his way out.

“I still fucked up,” he said finally. Hayes sighed slightly.

“What happened, Shane?” His voice was soft again. They had moved on from blame temporarily, although something still sat in the pit of Shane’s stomach.

“Svetlana called me and we had some words. I hung up.” He took a deep breath to steel himself for what came next. “I got another call from her. I didn’t wait, I just picked it up and said what I was feeling and I was yelling it and it was Ilya and he wasn’t ever supposed to hear it and now they won’t answer my calls and I think she’s going to have me taken out.”

Wyatt seemed to think for a moment about whether he would ask what words had been said before he decided against it. “While Svetlana is certainly an intimidating woman, I don’t think she’s out for blood.”

“But for Ilya,” Shane started.

“But for Ilya she wants comfort, and support, and love. And you’re who he really needs it from, Shane.”

“What if I can’t give it to him?”

“It’ll be hard,” Wyatt said. “You won’t be perfect. He won’t be perfect either. But I think you owe it to him to try.”

Shane took a deep, shuddering breath. He knew the tears were welling and that it was only a matter of time before they spilled over.

“Thanks,” he choked out. Wyatt nodded with a small smile.

“Like I said, we’re here for you too. You come as a package deal with our Cap, apparently.”

Shane tried to laugh. It sounded more like he was coughing. As he tried to take a few breaths, Wyatt’s phone dinged, and dinged again. As he pulled it out of his pocket, several more text messages came through. He bit his lip and looked up at Shane.

“You might want to be involved in this.”

Shane’s feet felt like lead as he walked next to Hayes from the elevators to the third floor waiting room. In the corner of the room were several Ottawa players in various states of health. Shane noticed Boodram and the cast on his right arm, a black eye on a defenseman he vaguely recognized, and Luca with his lips pressed together tightly on the edge of the group.

“I just don’t understand,” someone said. “Was he talking about Hollander? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Roz so upset.”

“Hey, guys.” Wyatt’s call to the team had them turning in unison. Shane watched the recognition ripple across the team. Poor Luca looked relieved to see them. Shane hadn’t realized the kid might be trying to keep a secret.

“What are you doing here?” It was Boodram, taking a step forward to represent the group.

As they’d made their way back from the cafeteria, Wyatt had carefully explained to Shane that some of the team had gone to Ilya’s room to check on him. He had been crying to Svetlana, speaking mostly in Russian, but they gathered he was talking about Shane. They left before Svetlana or Ilya had seen them.

“I’m here for Ilya.” It was all Shane could say. It still didn’t feel like his place to tell Ilya’s teammates about their relationship but it grew harder to stay vague.

“Oh, because that’s completely normal,” someone scoffed. Bood shot a glare over his shoulder before turning back to Shane.

“While I won’t make assumptions about other times, it doesn’t seem like he’s all that happy with you right now.” Zane Boodram was a pretty nice guy. A decent skater, his aggression was always limited to game play. Now, Shane was a little worried that if there was ice under their feet, he’d have been through the boards five times over.

“I think emotions are a little high right now,” Wyatt intervened. “It’s been a really hard twenty four hours. Right now, we all need to be on the same team.”

“Roz would want us to take care of Hollander.” Shane’s eyes darted to the new voice. Troy Barrett looked a bit pink in the face but his words were firm. Shane knew that he had to know something. He vaguely remembered Ilya telling him that Troy had gone to the Kingfisher with him after a game in New York. Ilya seemed to like the newest Centaur player.

“You don’t need to care of me,” Shane protested weakly. “Just believe me.”

Bood nodded. “Well, I won’t say I’m not confused. Maybe we can figure it all out together.”

Shane sighed a breath of relief as the team started to murmur in the affirmative. Some still glanced suspiciously in Shane’s direction, but they mob energy was dying down.

“I think it’s still important to note that Ilya was pretty upset,” Wyatt muttered softly. Shane grimaced.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” he admitted. Wyatt gave him a sad smile.

“I don’t know if you could ever be ready. You just have to start somewhere.”

Shane reeled a bit. The idea of not being prepared for such an important conversation was foreign to him. He needed a plan. He needed to understand what was going on or he was just going to keep saying the wrong things to Ilya.

Troy had moved closer to them. “He really loves you,” he whispered. Shane’s heart seized with the words. He knows that Ilya hadn’t said anything to Troy, even if he had wanted to. Maybe Troy was just guessing but he was confident in his words.

“Go get him, man. He needs you.” Wyatt nodded down the hallway towards Ilya’s room. Shane squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before he nodded.

“You’re right. You’re right,” he repeated. “Someone tell my parents I love them if she kills me.” The joke was weak but the other men laughed as Shane started down the hallway.

Shane hoped he wouldn’t hear anything as he stepped up to the door. He wished Ilya was asleep again, drifting in the haze of pain medication. Maybe he wouldn’t even remember all of this by the next time he was awake.

Clearly, he was paying for his actions. He could hear Svetlana’s soft soothing interspersed with racking sobs from Ilya. It was like getting knocked to the ice. The air was pressed from his chest and his ears rang.

Shane wanted to walk away. He wanted to be anywhere but here in this moment. But if he turned back to the waiting room and had to face all of Ilya’s team, he might as well feed himself to the wolves. Their compassion would only stretch so far.

So he knocked on the door. Svetlana’s voiced stopped suddenly. He heard no movement within and wondered if they were just going to ignore any visitors. Then the door opened under his still raised fist. Svetlana’s face was more exposed than he had expected. Her eyes were rimmed with red, tear tracks visible on her cheeks. Hairs around her temple and neck had escaped the ponytail. She’d pulled on a large jacket over the Boston shirt she wore. She looked less untouchable than normal. Shane felt a lump in his throat form as he processed that Svetlana felt a lot of the same thing he did.

She started to shut the door. Shane stuck his foot out and pressed his hand to the door. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “I should have checked who it was and I shouldn’t have said that and I’m sorry and please let me see him.”

Svetlana pressed her lips together tightly. “If you come in now, you’re in. No leaving. No more bullshit.”

Shane’s heart squeezed in his chest. Maybe he shouldn’t agree. There was damning evidence that he wasn’t going to be able to take it. Svetlana’s ultimatum was all he needed though. There was a chance he was going to mess things up. There was no chance he’d be able to survive a life without Ilya. Not anymore.

He nodded. “Please, Svetlana.”

She took a step towards him, which forced him to move backwards into the hallway. His heart began to sink; this was it. She was physically forcing him out. But she left the door open and stepped around him. She crossed her arms across her chest and tipped her head towards the door.

“Go fix it. Please be kind.”

Shane tried to smile at her but there was no way he managed as he focused on moving towards Ilya.

He was still in bed, though more upright in bed than he had been that morning. It was a relief to see him alert and moving. That’s about where the relief ended.

Ilya’s jaw was clenched hard. Even if Shane hadn’t heard him crying, it was obvious. Ilya’s eyes were puffy and red, the blue startlingly bright. His cheeks were still wet and there were dark splotches on the chest and shoulders of his hospital gown like tears had fallen and the thin material had been used to wipe more away.

“Ilya,” Shane said softly.

The other man turned his head towards the window. He didn’t speak.

Shane moved towards the bed and sat in the chair on the right side of the bed Svetlana had used. He reached out to place his hand on the bed but didn’t touch Ilya. He should get to choose.

“Baby, I’m sorry I said that. I was tired and emotional and you didn’t deserve to hear it and I shouldn’t have said it, even to Svetlana.” Shane knew he needed to say it, but his will was flagging as Ilya continued to look away.

“I love you, Ilya. And I’m so glad you’re alive. I’m not going anywhere.” Not ever, he thought. Maybe it shouldn’t have taken something this monumental but he understood clearly now. He would be here as long as Ilya would have him.

“I do not want to be a burden for you.” Ilya’s voice was scratchy and low and his accent was thick. It made Shane think of how he’d sounded when they had meet, his chirps during World Juniors.

“You are not a burden.” His fingers twitched. Shane longed to hold Ilya’s hand, to have a point of contact, but he still hadn’t turned to look at him.

“Not sure if I’m me anymore.”

Shane pressed his eyes shut. To hell with it. He grabbed Ilya’s hand and squeezed hard. This finally got him to turn. His face was still stony.

“Some things might change. The parts that count are still the same.”

Ilya’s face crumpled. Fresh tears welled in his eyes. Shane moved from the chair to stand right at the bedside. He used his other hand to pull Ilya’s face to his chest. Ilya clutched at his shirt and started to cry openly.

Shane cried too. There was no way around it. His fingers were tangled in Ilya’s hair as they cried together. Shane knew he wouldn’t be able to stop until Ilya did; his sobs were gut wrenching.

“I was so scared.” The words were muffled in Shane’s shirt.

“I know, but you’re safe now. You’re all safe now.”

“So it’s true? They’re all okay?” Ilya pulled away from his body and looked up to search for the truth in Shane’s eyes.

He nodded. “Yeah, they’re all okay. They’re pretty eager to see you.”

“I was worried Sveta was lying to me.”

“No lies,” Shane assured.

Ilya’s brows furrowed slightly. “Does that mean you have seen them? They know you are here?”

Something cold shivered up Shane’s spine. He was suddenly worried he’d made the wrong choice. “Yeah, they know.”

Ilya sighed and leaned back against his bed. “Good.” He closed his eyes briefly before he looked back up at Shane.

“Is that okay?”

Shane laughed. He laughed so hard he had to sit back down in the chair. Ilya looked alarmed.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Shane scrubbed at his face with his hands. “I can’t believe that’s what you’re worried about right now.”

Ilya looked like he was going to protest. Shane shook his head and reached out to grab his hand again. “It doesn’t matter, Ilya. You matter. I can’t imagine not being here. My parents will be here soon.”

Ilya settled back against his pillows and gave a small smile. “I think I need all of David’s boring for a while.”

“I’m sure he’s willing to share.” Shane returned the smile and gently rubbed his thumb across Ilya’s knuckles.

They sat in the silence for a moment. Naturally, Ilya was the one to break it. “I would understand. If this was it.”

Shane blinked. For a split second he had no idea what Ilya was talking about.

“No. No, Ilya, no. No, no, no.” Shane leaned forward, willing Ilya to look at him. His eyes had gotten a bit misty again and he looked braced for impact.

“It will be hard. You know it will be hard. And you must go back to Montreal.”

Shane hadn’t thought about that part yet. He had a short break and even that was going to be pushing it. He’d need to talk to Coach Theriault soon about missing practices.

“It will be hard but you’re worth then. And you won’t be alone when I leave, I promise.”

Ilya eyes dulled slightly when Shane mentioned leaving. He didn’t want to think about it.

“But you said-“

“No,” Shane said firmly. “I said that because.” He swallowed hard.

“Because I’m sorry. I know it’s my fault you’re in Ottawa and if it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t have been on that plane and,” his voice cracked. He rubbed the hand that wasn’t holding Ilya’s hard against his leg. “And I’m sorry.”

Ilya’s face was eerily blank. Shane’s throat felt like it was closing and he wanted to pull the words back in even if he choked on them.

“Not fault, Shane.” Ilya’s eyes were hard and his jaw was clenched again. “Ottawa is good team. I like them. I made my choice.”

“And I made mine,” Shane agreed. “It’s you and me.”

“You and me.”

Shane squeezed Ilya’s hand and slumped forward, letting his forehead fall onto the bed. “And a nap, I think.”

Ilya’s hand moved to his hair. He pulled his fingers through it slowly, lightly scratching Shane’s scalp.

“Sleep, lyubimyy. I will be here when you wake up.”

Shane mumbled something but it did not really end up being words. He did not let himself think about anything but Ilya’s hands and the sound of soft breathing as his eyes slipped shut.

Chapter End Notes

shane passing through all the barriers to get to ilya

they're okay for now but they are not out of the woods. they're really too tired to get to the source of their problems. ilya is certainly still too drugged and hasn't had enough time to feel all his feelings and process how much life is going to change.

i've really enjoyed your love and support! i hope this update is a little bit of a reprieve before we jump back into nasty emotions.

Chapter 5

Chapter Notes

For all that he didn’t sleep the night before, Shane wasn’t out long. In truth it amounted to about fifteen minutes of light dozing but at the end of it Shane felt like he was ready to take on the world. Ilya had fallen asleep as well, his hands still in Shane’s hair. He sat up carefully, placing Ilya’s hand on the bed after he pressed a gentle kiss to the palm. There was no telling how long Ilya would be able to sleep for but he clearly needed it.

Shane leaned back in the chair next to the bed and watched Ilya’s chest rise and fall for a few breaths. That was about as long as he was able to keep his mind still. There was just too much to think about now.

Some things could be put on the back burner. This close to the accident, the league wouldn’t push for contract settlement. His sponsors would know that whatever was currently in the works was on hold for the foreseeable future. Shane makes a mental note to send a message to Farah, who would be worried.

They needed to talk to Ilya’s doctors. He needed to do research. He had no idea what the healing process for a major limb amputation was like. He had no timeline to work off of. For now, Shane was completely in the dark and that made it hard to build a plan that wouldn’t crumble immediately in the daylight. He wished his parents were here already, his mom would have ideas. She was probably already thinking about it on her way to them.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat some to test the waters. Ilya was still fast asleep. He had time to work.

When he pulled his phone out of his pocket, he first sent a text to Svetlana.

Everything is okay. He is sleeping.

The next message went to Wyatt, who had made him save his contact info in front of him as they’d left the cafeteria.

He’s asleep right now. I think he’ll want to see the guys the next time he’s awake.

Finally, a message to his parents.

Text me when you land.

They were certainly still in the air but it wouldn’t be long before they landed and got to the hospital.

Immediate obligations out of the way, Shane did the next logical thing. He started to research.

The internet was full of vague answers wrapped in fluffy, reassuring language. Amputations were hard, it is normal for anyone to struggle mentally after surgery, especially if it was due to sudden trauma. As Shane read statistics about people diagnosed with anxiety or PTSD or depression after amputation, he thought about how people with a previous history fared. He frowned and tried not to think about it. He added another mental note to contact Ilya’s therapist soon to make sure he had appointments scheduled.

He was trying to find information about recovery times for people who were generally healthy and very fit before the amputation when a soft knock at the door made him raise his head and instinctively hide his phone.

It was Svetlana. Her eyes darted immediately to Ilya. She only looked at Shane once she seemed assured that Ilya was okay and asleep.

“I don’t think I can be away for long,” she admitted quietly as she sat in the chair across from the foot of the bed.

Shane nodded. “I can’t blame you for that.”

They sat in silence and watched Ilya’s chest rise and fall with soft breaths. Shane itched to pull his phone back out and continue his research but it felt wrong with someone else in the room.

“He will not ask for help,” Svetlana said grimly. It was one hell of a way to break the silence after several minutes.

“He doesn’t need to,” Shane said quickly. “He has people. We’ll get him home and situated and comfortable. He won’t have to worry about it.”

“No, not that.” She waved her hand dismissively. “From now on. He would rather drag himself across the floor than ask you to get the blanket from the other couch for him. There is so much he will need, but he will not ask.”

Shane looked at Ilya. His face was relaxed in sleep, but it was not hard to picture. Firey eyes and clenched jaw, angry at the world as he silently struggled. Angry at himself.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Svetlana hummed. “I hope you are right.”

The room returned to silence. Shane squeezed his hands into fists as he thought about what he should say. There was something that would make her trust him but he just didn’t know what it was. He was considering telling her she was welcome in Ottawa when Ilya woke with a start.

“Shane?”

Shane grabbed Ilya’s hand reflexively. “Here, baby.”

Ilya let his head fall back onto the pillow as he let out a hard breath. He gave Shane’s hand a weak squeeze.

“Is it okay if I see the team,” he asked quietly.

“Of course, Ilyusha. They have been waiting.” Svetlana stood from her chair and crossed to the other side of the bed to press a kiss to his forehead. “I will go tell them.”

Shane also stood. Ilya’s eyes flashed with something that looked a lot like fear, and his grip on Shane’s hand was suddenly much tighter.

“You’re only supposed to have three visitors at a time,” Shane explained softly. “The boys will all get more time with you if I leave and let them have a spot.”

“No,” Ilya said simply.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure. Stay, please.” And that was all it took. Shane sat back down in the chair and Svetlana slipped out the door by herself quietly.

“I didn’t tell them anything,” Shane said softly. Ilya’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“About us, I mean,” he explained. “I wanted you to get to tell your people exactly what you wanted. I didn’t really tell Svetlana either.”

Ilya’s eyes softened. “Thank you. You did not have to do that.”

Shane shrugged one shoulder. “It was important to you to tell them. I wasn’t going to take that from you.”

Ilya squeezed his hand again as there was a knock at the door. Shane was unsurprised to see Wyatt and Bood be the first elected to see their captain.

“Good to see you awake, Cap,” Hayes said softly as he entered the room.

“Yes, my eyes are very pretty, they are easy to miss.”

Bood let out a shaky laugh. “At least we know your head is okay.”

Ilya’s smile tightened slightly. “I heard you both met Hollander.”

“Yeah, saw him when we came in this morning.” Hayes said easily as he sat down in one of the chairs. Shane swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure how much he was supposed to participate in this conversation. He wasn’t sure if Ilya was going to be direct about the situation or continue to let his teammates make assumptions for the time being.

“Shane is my boyfriend. Has been for a long time. I hope I have not missed the window to get him in the WAG group chat.” Shane let out a small choked sound as he looked between Ilya and the other Centaurs. Ilya was mostly joking but there was a hard glint in his eyes that showed there was still a little bit of a test to his words.

“I’m not sure if Hollander meets the standard criteria but they might let him interview for a spot.” Bood’s voice was calm and casual as he returned the joke. Ilya visibly relaxed and his smile grew wider.

“I don’t think he will get in,” he staged whispered before flashing a smile to Shane.

“That’s fair, really,” Shane admitted.

With that settled, the conversation turned almost normal. Ilya asked about his other teammates and the staff and the others dutifully filled him in. Shane mostly stayed quiet and watched as Wyatt and Bood caught Ilya up on the information he’d missed. They notably did not talk about Ilya’s injuries. Wyatt was careful to steer the conversation to lighter topics where he could and Bood looked relieved to play along. Eventually there was loud shuffling and pointed coughs from the hallway. Wyatt and Bood reluctantly turned over their spots to be replaced by Dykstra and Haas.

It kept going like that. Ilya made some direct statement about Shane that left room to push back. No one did. They would talk until some unseen timer flipped over and they swapped with two other teammates. Ilya looked more and more at ease with each player he saw with his own eyes. Shane softened at the thought. Ilya was a great man to wear the C, the kind that had true leadership on the team and not just the scoring records. He wondered how long the Centaurs would wait before selecting another Captain. The thought curdled in his stomach.

Some time later, Svetlana returned to replace the last of the Ottawa players. “Your doctor should be by soon.”

Ilya’s nose scrunched slightly. “Good. I want to know when I can go home.”

“We’ll see,” Svetlana said softly as she took the seat opposite Shane. They stayed like that, each holding one of Ilya’s hands when the doctor stepped into the room.

She was a nice-looking woman, somewhere in her forties. She smiled as she entered the room, taking in all three of them with a thoughtful eye.

“Mr. Rozanov, I’m glad to see you awake. I’m Dr. Wright. How is your pain currently?” As she spoke, she used a hand sanitizer dispenser on the wall and rubbed her hands together. As she approached the bed, Shane scooted his chair closer to the head of the bed, but stayed close enough to keep Ilya’s hand in his. He would only leave if the doctor explicitly asked him to.

“Is fine,” Ilya said. Dr. Wright gave him a stony look. “My chest hurts a bit. Feels bruised. My leg,” Ilya trailed off and tipped his face towards the ceiling. Shane realized that Ilya had not looked towards his leg since he had been back in the room.

“It’s normal to feel a wide range of sensation,” Dr. Wright explained softly. “There’s going to be some swelling at the surgery site and some patients report a sort of throbbing. It can also feel like pins and needles.”

“How long until I can use a, uh,” he glanced at Svetlana.

“Prosthetic,” she provided.

Ilya nodded. “Prosthetic.” He said the word slowly and carefully.

“It will be several weeks,” Dr. Wright admitted. “You are young and healthy, Mr. Rozanov, but there is a lot of adjustment that must take place. It will likely be a month before you can be cast for a prosthetic.”

Ilya grunted. “And until then?”

“You’ll begin physical therapy soon,” she explained. “It will be recommended that you stay in bed when you can, but you can use a wheelchair for mobility until you’re comfortable with your prosthetic.” As she spoke, she pulled her stethoscope out of a pocket in her jacket and began to listen to Ilya’s chest. She didn’t seem alarmed by anything which made Shane feel more at ease after Ilya’s reports of hurting.

“Will I be able to go home soon?” Ilya had tried to make the question casual but the strain was clear in his voice. Dr. Wright’s face tightened slightly.

“We typically like to see you stay in the hospital for two weeks after a surgery like this,” she said as she put the stethoscope away. “Although it’s possible that if you remain stable for a few days we could transfer your care to your team doctors to make the flight back to Canada and settle you somewhere there.”

Ilya’s hand tightened on Shane’s at the mention of a flight. Shane frowned as he considered it. He hadn’t even thought about how hard it would be to get on a plane again, even for himself. The odds of a plane crash were so low that it happening to the same person twice was so unlikely it was laughable but now they knew that it really could happen. The idea of Ilya alone on a plane, wondering if the other shoe would drop this time made him feel sick.

“Thank you, Dr. Wright,” Ilya said finally.

“I have a lot of faith that your physical recovery is going to go well, Mr. Rozanov. I want you to remember that there is also an emotional recovery process that will be long, and likely hard.” She stepped away from the bed to look at Svetlana and Shane too as she continued to speak. “Do not neglect how you are feeling. You will have a new normal. Try not to chase the old normal.”

She said a few more things, mostly about when she would be back and when the hospital’s physical therapist would come by for initial work with Ilya. Shane didn’t hear most of it. He watched Ilya and tried to tell what he was thinking. How he was feeling. How he had received Dr. Wright’s message.

“Physical therapy is the worst,” Ilya said finally when Dr. Wright left the room.

Svetlana huffed. “I can think of a few things that are worse.”

“No, they are evil and only want to make you feel pain,” Ilya whined.

“Maybe you’re just bad at it,” Shane joked. Ilya pulled his hand away and pressed it to his chest, mouth agape.

“How dare you? I am so good at it. It still is the worst.”

Shane laughed softly. Ilya was doing a good job at keeping the tone light but his eyes began to look weary and his mouth tightened.

“You’re going to do good,” he said. Ilya nodded once before closing his eyes. Now that he’d finished with the team and the doctor, his energy was flagging.

He sat like that for some time as Shane and Svetlana stared shamelessly. There was no way they were leaving now and there wasn’t much else to do.

Shane’s phone dinged with a few texts. When he pulled out his phone, he was relieved to see notifications from his mom.

“Hey, my parents made it,” he said softly. “They should be here in thirty minutes.”

Ilya hummed. “Good.”

Shane sent his parents the room details and put his phone back in his pocket. He grabbed at Ilya again, stroking his thumb across the back of Ilya’s hand. His throat constricted slightly when he remembered that eventually the visiting hours would end and he would have to leave again. The thought of getting a hotel room was almost impossible; the waiting room already felt too far away.

Ilya and Svetlana talked some as they waited for the Hollanders, but mostly the three of them sat in silence. It was not an awkward silence but there was a weight to it that made Shane feel uncomfortable.

A knock at the door disrupted his thoughts about what made the silence so hard to bear. Yuna appeared first, followed by David. Shane stood quickly and stepped to the door. He hugged them both at once and their arms came up behind his back immediately.

“Thank you for coming,” he whispered as he pulled away.

“Yuna, David,” Ilya croaked from the bed. Immediately, Yuna pulled away from Shane and towards the bed.

“Honey, I’m so happy to see you.” She pushed a few curls out of Ilya’s face as her eyes roved over him. His eyes were sleepy as he smiled at Yuna.

“It is good to see you, too,” he said. Svetlana cleared her throat slightly from her spot on the other side of the bed.

“Oh, Svetlana, this is my mom and dad,” Shane provided. “Yuna, and David. This is Svetlana.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” David said. “If you’re family to Ilya, you’re family to us.”

Ilya looked like he was going to protest, but Yuna shushed him. Svetlana smiled. “I am glad to hear it, Mr. Hollander. I think I will let you all have a few moments as I go find some food.”

Her exit was graceful and Shane silently thanked for giving them the room when he saw how his parents looked at Ilya. His dad was a little better at hiding it but they were both clearly so worried. If Ilya had been less tired he might have protested some but as it was he let Yuna murmur softly about their flight and getting to the hospital and passing the Ottawa team in the waiting room.

“How are you feeling, son?” David asked once Yuna began to trail off slightly. Ilya turned his head to look at where David has sat down.

“To be honest? Like shit.”

Yuna barked out a laugh as David nodded solemnly. “Well, I might be a little more worried if you were peachy,” he said wryly. Shane watched quietly as they continued to probe gently and assess the situation. There was no reason to interrupt the process, it simply had to be done. Once they had assured themselves that Ilya was okay for the moment being then they would be able to move forward.

David accepted it before Yuna did. He caught Shane’s eye and nodded towards the door. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m pretty hungry. How about Shane and I go round us up some food, hmm?”

“Yes please. Try not to pick the most boring hospital food.” He added quickly, “But maybe get jello.”

“I’ll see what we can do,” David laughed. He put a hand on Shane’s shoulder and steered his out of the room.

Shane took a deep, shuddering breath once they were in the hallway. David pulled him into a hug. His hand cradled the back of Shane’s head as he murmured. “It’s okay, son. He’s okay.”

When he pulled away, Shane rubbed at his eyes. “I have no idea what we’re going to do,” he admitted.

David just started walking towards the elevators. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

They came back from the cafeteria with several plates to share. Notably, there were five cups of jello. As Shane went to push the door open, David hummed pointedly. Shane frowned and shot a glance at his father, who just nodded once towards the door. Shane peaked through the small window.

Yuna was half sitting on the hospital bed, Ilya’s head pulled to her chest. They had both cried, Shane could tell. Now, they were still and silent. He watched as Yuna pressed a kiss to the top of Ilya’s head. Ilya said something far too soft for Shane to hear through the door and too mumbled to be able to read his lips. Yuna just hugged him tighter and let more tears fall.

Chapter End Notes

i've done far more research about amputation recovery than i have written this week. sorry not sorry.

it was really important to me that ilya get to have a moment with yuna. i've thought a lot about the text from the long game and ilya thought his last thoughts would be about shane and his mother and how that would translate to his thoughts on his mother and yuna after the crash.

Chapter 6

Chapter Notes

The Hollanders ate dinner with Ilya quietly. David carried most of the conversational weight this time as he explained the saga of events that had unfolded after his work Christmas party. It gave them something to be invested in together beside the glaringly obvious reason they were all in a hospital room in the U.S. together in the first place.

Every few minutes, David’s eyes darted towards the door. Shane tried to follow his gaze but he never saw anything in the window of the door. By the fourth time it happened, David seemed to have made up his mind.

“I think I’ll go get us set up at the hotel next door,” he said as he gathered their trash. Shane glanced at his watch. There was two hours before visiting hours ended. His heart clenched in his chest. The thought of being outside this room was too much, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to make it out of the building.

“Thank you, honey,” Yuna said. As he grabbed her empty plate he pressed a kiss to the top of her head and winked at Ilya before he slipped out of the room.

Approximately forty-five seconds later Svetlana knocked on the door.

Ilya’s mouth quirked upwards. “Sveta, come in and talk to Yuna. You will be like a forest fire.”

Yuna angled herself in her chair to face Svetlana as she entered the room. Her eyes were tight but Shane figured it was just from tiredness rather than any sort of defense.

“Mrs. Hollander, is it true that you’re the one behind all of Shane’s partnerships?”

That was all it took. The two took turns peacocking their accomplishments and being deeply invested in the other’s work. They were completely enamored.

Shane looked to Ilya. His head was against his pillow, eyes heavy as he watched Svetlana and Yuna converse. His right hand was still in Shane’s, but his left had come up to rest on his chest. His mother’s cross was still on its chain around his neck and now he pressed it lightly into the skin below his collarbone.

“Are you tired,” Shane asked quietly. Ilya’s eyes flitted to his and he gave a small shake.

“No, is good. I will sleep when you have to leave.”

Shane wanted nothing more than to argue. To insist he could find a way to stay, especially if Svetlana and his mother helped. But his neck hurt and he was tired and Ilya was stable enough now that there was no way the nurses would let him stay.

“Okay, that’s fine. Let me know if that changes.”

Ilya hummed and blinked at Shane. “Of course, lyubimyy.”

Yuna and Svetlana talked, Ilya watched, and Shane let his eyes close so his mind could quiet. It wasn’t quite meditation but he shut down the parts of his brain that didn’t pertain to the situation directly in front of him. It was peaceful. He wasn’t always able to manage it, but being sleep deprived did help with single mindedness a tad.

“Shane, honey, I think it’s time to go.” Yuna’s voice was soft when she placed her hand on his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open and was disappointed to see how much time had passed. He probably should have tried harder to participate in the conversation or even just stay awake.

He looked at Ilya, who was mostly asleep himself. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning, okay?” He leaned forward to press a kiss to Ilya’s forehead. Then, he couldn’t help himself, a quick peck on the lips. “I love you.”

Ilya melted a little further into his pillows and smiled. “I love you too, Shane.”

Shane let his mother pull him from the rom. Svetlana was still there but he figured they probably needed their own goodnights and goodbyes too.

“Dad is waiting for us,” Yuna explained softly as she and Shane moved through the hallway to the elevator. None of the Ottawa players were in the waiting room when they passed, which was good. They needed some sleep and rest too.

“Thank you for being here.” Shane’s voice was quiet in the elevator. There was the soft dinging of the car reaching the ground level. Yuna pulled him outside the elevator but made it no further before she wrapped her arms around him.

“Shane, of course.” She pulled him in just a little bit tighter. “Ilya is family now too. We wanted to be here.”

“Mom, I don’t know what to do next.” It was the most vulnerable thing he could say to her. It was what they were supposed to be good at. Between the two of them, there was always a plan, always next steps to take. Now he was off balance and everything seemed a bit fuzzy and every step forward contained forty different landmines ready to blow it all to pieces.

“You don’t have to, not yet.” She patted his back gently and pulled away. He looked down at her eyes before she asked because she would ask if he didn’t. “Baby steps. We all have to learn how to take them together.”

That was somehow what did it. Shane started laughing. It was bubbling out of him and it wouldn’t stop but quickly the laughs became little sobs. Ilya was going to be the one who had to learn how to take steps again and all Shane was going to be able to do was watch.

Yuna grimaced. “Maybe that one was a bit uncalled for. C’mon, some time outside will feel good.”

It was still January, so it was a tad chilly for Florida and the air wasn’t at one hundred percent humidity. Shane counted it as a small victory. He gulped in the cool evening air, the sun long since gone down. He could see the hotel from here, really just across the parking lot. He wondered how many people stayed in it who weren’t waiting on some family member to make it home.

David was waiting for them in the hotel lobby.

“Everything still good?” He held out keycards for Shane and Yuna as they approached.

“Yeah. Thank you for making room for Svetlana,” Shane said quietly. David smiled.

“She seemed a bit anxious,” he shrugged. Shane shook his head slightly. For all that he could try, he would never be as perceptive as his father was. He could be thankful for it at least.

“He seems much calmer than I would expect,” Yuna said as they walked to the elevators.

“There were some moments this morning,” Shane admitted quietly. He didn’t want to get into how he had behaved.

“I’m sure it will be lots of ups and downs, especially as they change his pain medication,” David said. They stepped into the elevator together, up to the sixth floor. Their rooms were right next door to each other. Shane wondered if his dad has requested that; if he wanted his people all in one place or had suspected Shane or Yuna would want to be close. Either way, Shane was okay with the outcome.

He stopped outside his door and looked at his parents. He bit his lip as he reached for the door, unsure how to say what he wanted.

“They’re adjoining rooms, just go in and open the door son,” David said softly with a pat on his shoulder. Shane sighed with relief and did just that.

Maybe rooms with two queen beds were all that were available. Or maybe David Hollander knew that this is how the night would end. Shane curled up on the bed closest to the door, laying on his side to face David and Yuna as they sat on the other bed.

“Have you talked to your coach yet?” Yuna’s question was innocent and logical, but it was not what Shane wanted to hear.

“No,” he sighed. “I should do that. I just don’t even know what to do.”

Yuna frowned slightly. “I understand that you want to be here for Ilya. But,” she hesitated. “It will take a lot of explaining to miss your game in two days.”

Shane pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m going to have to go back to Montreal.” He’d have to call out of practice tomorrow. The day after the game wasn’t until the evening, but it was unlikely he could get a flight into Montreal in time for warmups. He’d have to leave tomorrow night.

Then it was a string of road games. It would be close to two weeks before he had another solid day off where he could even consider being where Ilya was. Wherever that was.

“When the team doctors clear him to travel, they’ll take him back to Ottawa.” His throat was thick. “I don’t know what Svetlana’s plans are, but he can’t be alone-“

“He can stay with us,” David said easily. “Or we can stay at his house, let him be in his space.”

“Or go back and forth if he wants the change of scenery,” Yuna added. Shane let out a long breath and let his shoulders relax. Ilya wasn’t going to be alone.

“Has the league announced anything about the team?”

“They acknowledged the crash, gave condolences. There hasn’t been anything about individual players or any of the injuries,” Yuna explained. “There’s no word on Ottawa’s games, but all other league events are going forward as planned.”

Shane wanted to scream. Of course the Cens weren’t going to be playing games! How would they, without Ilya? But they’d spent a lot of time without him. Players got taken out of the game for injuries all the time. Ilya was just going to be another one on the list of careers cut short. It felt horrifically wrong.

“He’s not ever going to play again.” Shane’s voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere other than his mouth. He’d said the words out loud, he’d made them real. Like nailing the coffin shut himself.

David and Yuna just looked sad. Her lower lip trembled slightly. Neither had a very good response, so they said nothing at all.

“Hockey ends for us all one way or another,” David said, patting his knee lightly. He’d had his own injury while playing in university that hadn’t healed quite right. He could still get out on the ice and hit a puck around, but he never regained the speed or strength he once had. He hadn’t played his last season of school.

“And he has things in his life other than hockey,” Yuna offered. It was weak though. Shane and Ilya had spent so much of their life on the ice and the time off of it preparing to be back on. All of their adult life was shaped by the league and the mandated schedules and workouts and diets and a few weeks of rest before starting it all over again. All of Ilya’s friends were hockey players. Svetlana was the thing most removed from hockey in his life and she wasn’t all that far from it herself.

“When his team starts playing again he isn’t going to have anyone,” Shane said.

“They aren’t going to abandon him,” David said softly. He reached his arm around Yuna’s shoulders and squeezed. “We also can’t solve all the problems right now. We don’t know how things are going to go. And Ilya gets to make some of these decisions himself.” His tone was a bit pointed at the end. While Shane and Yuna were good at figuring things out, they were also good at steamrolling. It was a good reminder.

“Right. Simple logistics, nothing more,” Shane agreed grimly.

“What about his visa?”

It was like his mother had dropped a bomb in the middle of all the things he had thought to be worried about up to this point. The blood drained from his face and he sat up quickly.

“They can’t make him go back to Russia. They can’t,” Shane said. He stood up, suddenly feeling the need to move and distract himself or he’d be sick.

“Of course not,” Yuna said quickly. “We’d figure something out before it got to that point.”

Ilya couldn’t go back to Russia. There was nothing for him there but his asshole brother who would certainly try to pull some shit if Ilya came back more vulnerable than ever. He couldn’t go where Shane couldn’t follow.

“If things get dicey, we’ll get married.”

Yuna blinked. “Honey, I don’t think that the government will be that aggressive about his visa after everything that’s happened.”

“I don’t want to take any chances-“

“Son, we understand. What I think your mom meant is that it’s a big deal.” David looked up at him with big eyes and a slight frown. “You and Ilya should be able to get married when the time is right, if and when you want to. Not because you have to.”

Right. It was not romantic to get married for citizenship. It was not romantic or reasonable to make these decisions for Ilya. Right.

Shane sat back down on the bed. “You’re right.” He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, head in his hands. “You’re right. I just don’t know what I’d do if he survived all this and I still lost him.”

“We’re not losing him, Shane.” Yuna’s voice was full of determination. Coming from anyone else, it would have felt hollow. Shane believed his mother and believed in her ability to get what she wanted. If she said they were keeping Ilya, then they were keeping him.

“Thank you,” Shane said.

David reached out and touched his arm. “Again, no need for thanks. We love him too.”

They made a few plans for getting up in the morning for breakfast before going back to the hospital. Yuna helped Shane draft a text to send to his coach about missing practice for a family emergency. They said their goodnights, and Shane reluctantly drifted back into his room. With the adjoining door shut he felt the weight of the day settle on his shoulders. There were so many unanswered questions. Lots of them would stay that way for now and there was nothing he could do about it. That was maybe the worst part.

He took a shower and let the hot water run over him for far longer than necessary. His neck was stiff and his hips hurt and he was too tired to step out of the shower and dry off and dig clothes out of his duffle bag.

He did it eventually, of course. Only after the skin on his stomach was red and angry from a combination of the hot water and his absent-minded scratching as he stood in the shower. The towels were large and soft. He found a soft black t-shirt and a pair of blue basketball shorts to sleep in. Some habits died hard, so he laid out a pair of joggers and a blue t-shirt to wear the next day.

He crawled into bed and laid on his back. He couldn’t shut his eyes. Alone in this bed, he was painfully aware that Ilya was so close and still so, so far. How long had it been since they had been in the same city and not slept in the same bed? A long time, and for good reason. It sucked to sleep alone. He wanted to hear Ilya’s voice and feel his breathing and the familiar weight of his arm flung over Shane’s side as they slept. He realized that he didn’t even know if Ilya had his cellphone after the crash. He made a mental note to address that one first thing in the morning so it could be sorted out before he had to leave.

Shane drifted to sleep with uneasy thoughts about how he was supposed to leave and play a hockey game when all he could think about was what Ilya was going to do now.

When they made it to the third floor waiting room fifteen minutes before visiting hours started, Ilya’s team doctor was leaving his room. Ilya must have said something because he nodded in acknowledgement when he saw the Hollanders and approached them cautiously.

“Ilya told me that you’d be here,” the man said simply. Shane took a fortifying breath.

“Yes. Are there any updates about when they’re discharging him?”

“If things keep going like they’re going, probably another three days. He’ll need to be monitored on the flight back to Ottawa, and he’ll be admitted to the hospital there for further monitoring and continuation of his initial physical therapy. Probably another week before he can go home with assistance.” The doctor’s eyes flashed, as if he knew that he was looking at the supposed assistance in front of him.

“We’ll make sure that Ilya has someone at home,” Yuna said, rising to the challenge.

The doctor nodded, satisfied. “There is plenty more to discuss in the next few days but it’s good to know so we can plan for it. My name is Chandler, Ilya has my number. If you have questions, he knows how to reach me.” Chandler mysteriously disappeared around the corner. Likely to go check on other players or Ottawa’s coach, Wiebe. Shane didn’t know if he was still admitted for his concussion or not. He’d ask Hayes the next time he saw him, he’d know for sure.

Svetlana showed up just before visiting hours officially started. With fewer than five minutes til 8, the nurses waved them back. They knew by now that this group wasn’t going to cause any problems for Ilya and they weren’t going to leave until someone made them. It didn’t seem like there was an issue that there was four of them.

Ilya was awake and staring out the window when they entered the room. He turned his face slightly to acknowledge their presence but didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Still looking out the window.

Shane looked himself. He hadn’t even bothered the day before. From here there were a few other wings of the hospital visible, a large parking lot, and a stretch of trees with a small pond beyond it.

“Good morning, Ilyusha.” Svetlana broke the silence as she crossed the room to sit on Ilya’s left side. She briefly stepped in front of his view of the window. Whether on purpose or not, it broke him from his stare and he faced the room.

“Good morning.” His voice was thick with the disuse of morning. He must not have said much to the team doctor. That was enough to make Shane frown.

“Do you have your phone? Does it work?”

Ilya looked at him with slight confusion before shaking his head. “I do not know. No one brought it to me.” Shane shot a look to his parents and David nodded slightly. He didn’t have to use the time he had left here worrying about it.

“Just wanted to check,” Shane explained as he sat down in the chair to the right of the bed where he’d sat the evening before.

“You will have to leave soon.”

Shane snapped his gaze to Ilya’s face. His blue eyes were piercing this morning, heavy with some unspoken emotion. It made Shane feel uneasy. He nodded slowly.

“Yeah, tonight. I’ll take the latest flight out I can.” He had looked at flights at breakfast. If he left at 9 p.m. he’d get back to Montreal in the middle of the night but it was better than sacrificing a single extra hour with Ilya.

“You will play like shit if you don’t sleep,” Ilya spat. Shane had not heard that kind of venom in his voice in years.

“That’s not really what I’m worried about right now,” he said defensively. He glanced at his parents and Svetlana, but none of them seemed particularly inclined to step in. Whatever this was, Shane and Ilya needed to sort it out. At least they hadn’t left the room.

“Maybe you should be.”

“Ilya,” Shane said sternly. “Don’t tell me to care more about some stupid game against Nashville than being here.”

Ilya pressed his lips together and his nostrils flared slightly. He was ready for a fight. Shane had to shut it down before it blew up the whole day.

“You are worth caring about. I’m choosing to be here. Yeah, I’m going to have to go play five games in a row and it’s going to suck.” He sucked in a breath. He needed to really hit it home. “I’m going to wish I was here. I’ll be calling so much you’re going to be sick of me. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think I had to. But don’t make me go before I have to. Please.”

Ilya deflated and turned his head back to the window.

“Sorry. Of course. It was silly.”

Shane frowned and looked at his parents. Yuna’s lips were pursed and David looked resigned. Svetlana was no better. Her eyes were mournful as her gaze darted across Ilya’s face. She reached for his hand and he gripped it back tightly. They exchanged a few words in hushed Russian. Shane didn’t recognize any of the words. Whatever he said, it didn’t have Svetlana shooing him out of the room so there was some solace in that.

They continued to speak, though the pauses grew longer. Eventually, Ilya’s right hand flexed and reached towards Shane slightly. Shane was happy to take what he could get; he grasped Ilya’s hand firmly. He leaned over to press a kiss to the back of his hand before he could stop the instinct.

“I am just in pain this morning. I am sorry, I did not mean to attack you.” Ilya’s voice was quiet. He was pointedly not looking in Shane’s direction.

“It’s okay, baby. I understand.”

Ilya squeezed his eyes shut and let out a slow breath. As the silence continued to settle over the room like an uncomfortably itchy blanket, Shane wondered how many times they would have to repeat scenes like this one before something snapped.

Chapter End Notes

i don't have a beta for this work and i as a rule don't reread most things i've written. with that being said, apologies for an weird typos or issues. if i contradict myself, oh well. if it's something really glaring, feel free to raise the red flag.

i'm unhinged-ceramic-frog on tumblr

Chapter 7

Chapter Notes

Shane booked his flight and watched the minutes tick down until he had to leave. Ilya was subdued all morning. He put on a bit of a brace face when Luca and Wyatt stopped in to see him just before lunch time. At that point his parents slipped out to make room and David sent a message that they were off to get Ilya a phone.

“Are you headed back to Montreal today?” Wyatt asked in a low voice as Luca and Ilya talked about Haas’s family.

“Yeah, game tomorrow and then on the road for a while.”

Wyatt searched for something in Shane’s face. He wasn’t sure if the other man found what he wanted or not. “I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

Shane scrubbed a hand over his face. “It hasn’t ever been easy. This isn’t helping.”

Wyatt gave a tight-lipped smile. “I hope you can figure something out. For him.”

Shane bristled slightly. He had no idea what they could do in this moment that would make it easier. Wyatt couldn’t possibly know that, even with his freakish goalie insight.

“We’ll get through it,” Shane settled on. It was apparently enough to satisfy Hayes because he jumped back into the conversation with his teammates. Shane just sat and listened.

A nurse brought in food for Ilya and told him that the physical therapist would be around to see him in thirty minutes. Ilya didn’t seem surprised, just settled into grim acceptance. His doctors must have told him it was coming this morning.

“Svetlana and I will eat when you’re doing therapy,” Shane said when Ilya looked pointedly at his own tray.

“And leave me alone while they torture me?” Ilya was aghast.

Shane raised his eyebrows. “You really want us to stay and watch?”

Ilya scowled and stabbed his fork through a piece of lettuce. “No, I will be a monster.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Svetlana gave him a smile from across the bed. He realized that maybe he shouldn’t have volunteered her to leave but for all Ilya’s joking he really would not want people to be around for a physio visit. Even a normally scheduled physical therapy appointment for a professional athlete with team staff sucked. There was no way that Ilya’s first movements in this new version of his body would end in anything other than yelling and tears.

“When you leave,” Ilya asked finally as he ate the jello he had continued to request. It was bright orange this afternoon.

“I’ll probably have to leave for the airport around seven, seven thirty.” Shane rubbed his hand on his leg.

“And your parents?” Svetlana asked. He glanced at her. This could be a coordinated attack but he didn’t think so. Ilya likely thought Yuna and David would just follow Shane. Svetlana must have seen something in the past twenty-four hours that made her doubt.

“They’ll stay here until you get cleared to fly back to Ottawa,” Shane admitted. Ilya looked shocked enough that he set his spoon back down, bite of jello uneaten. He folded his hands in his lap. Twitched.

“That is very kind.”

“Ilya, they care about you,” Shane said. He felt like he’d had this conversation several times already. “I don’t know what Svetlana’s plan is, but my parents are ready to step in. You can stay at their house or they’ll come to yours to help as much as you need.” He pointedly did not say as much as Ilya wanted. He knew that Ilya would not want help, whether because he thought he did not deserve it or that he should be stronger than to ask for it. It did not change the fact that he needed it. And Yuna Hollander wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

“I will be able to help get Ilyusha settled,” Svetlana said as she reached for his hand. Ilya turned to face her, slightly shocked. “I will not be able to stay long. Maybe once I get a few things settled at work I can come back to stay longer.”

“That is not necessary,” Ilya started.

“Ah,” Svetlana cut him off crisply. “I will make my own decisions. There is no need to try to influence them.”

Ilya let out a long breath. “I won’t ever be alone again,” he muttered.

“This isn’t forever,” Shane pushed. Ilya gave him a hard look out of the side of his eyes but did not turn his head.

Shane hoped Svetlana would say something. Right now, he was convinced that everything would sound better coming from her. Ilya might listen. She kept her mouth shut, though her gaze was intense.

They were at an impasse until the physical therapist arrived. Shane and Svetlana left Ilya to his grim fate. A part of Shane wasn’t to stay just outside the door so he could be back as soon as possible. The more logical part of his brain kept moving down the hall. Hearing Ilya was not going to help anything. It might make it impossible to ever leave again.

“Feeling like lunch?” Shane asked as they reached the waiting room. Svetlana nodded and followed him wordlessly to the elevators.

Once they had sat down with their food, she spoke. “He is going to be very mean. It will be important to stand up for yourself but also remember that it isn’t really him.”

Shane hummed. “Have you seen him like this before?”

Her eyes flashed. “When his mother died,” she said.

Shane’s stomach curdled. “You were so young.”

“That did not make it any easier. It was probably worse. We did not know what we were doing,” she sighed. The idea of preteen Ilya and Svetlana stumbling into each other with their new sharp edges and lack of understanding hurt far more than he wanted to admit.

“You made it through, at least.”

“Ilya spent a season as an enforcer,” she said with a huff. “He didn’t even care where the puck was on the ice. He wanted break people and himself in the process. His season ended early with a boxer’s fracture,” she added.

Shane was a bit shocked. While Ilya could not be classified as a gentle player by any stretch of the imagination, that was a step further than he could imagine. Even when they played against each other in the Junior World Championships, Ilya had a cold fire within him that would drive the other team mad without him having to lift a finger. He could get heated but his goal on the ice was to inflict damage by creating more offense than the other team had ever seen.

“He has people now.” Shane didn’t point out the obvious. He wouldn’t have hockey to turn to this time.

“He does. But you have to make sure you don’t hide in the game either.”

Shane blinked. “What do you mean?”

Svetlana laughed. Not meanly, but knowingly. “You’re all the same. Your whole life is built around hockey. You are the ostrich sticking your head into the sand, but it’s practice and games and offseason prep. Other things can’t hurt you when you’re winning on the ice.”

All protests died in his throat. He couldn’t prove her wrong. Hockey had been the most soothing part of life for so long, he did seek it out whenever there were problems.

“I still have to play, it’s my job.”

“I know, I’m not stupid,” she said. She pushed around a bite with her fork. “But there is a difference in playing and coming back home each night and keeping your mind in the game. You can’t let it become everything.”

“It’s not everything,” he mumbled. He couldn’t meet her gaze.

“I mean it, Shane Hollander. It would kill him to lose you to the game he cannot play any longer.”

He looked up. Her gaze was steady and serious. He held her stare for several moments but was the one to look away. He pressed his palms into his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I understand.”

Svetlana continued to eat as Shane kept his eyes closed. He could hear her quiet shuffling. He appreciated how they could sit in silence. She felt no need to cushion things with more words. It allowed him to think.

“Did you really mean it when you said you were going to find a way to be with Ilya after sorting things at work?”

She laughed coldly. “Soon you will learn that I don’t say things I don’t mean. Yes, I did. There are things I can do from a distance. I just need to prepare. A week, maybe two.”

“That’s good. I think he’ll get sick of my parents eventually; it will be helpful for more people to be around.”

“It is very good of your parents to offer to help,” Svetlana said carefully. It was time for Shane to flash her a warning looking.

“Of course they do. They’ve known about Ilya, they care about him. They wouldn’t let him sit in the same city alone.”

“Some people would,” Svetlana said simply. Shane frowned. “I know this is not your experience. But it is likely Ilyusha’s own father would have spit on him and told him he should have died in the crash before he lifted a finger to help. He is not used to being taken care of.”

“What a bastard,” Shane muttered. Svetlana lifted her plastic water bottle like it was a toast but didn’t say anything else. Shane was at a complete loss. The punches just wouldn’t stop coming and he was so caught up in trying to figure out which ones to dodge he was getting hit by them all.

“Am I making the wrong decision to keep playing?”

Svetlana looked a little startled by the question. She shook her immediately but her response came slower. “No, I don’t think so. If you were both stuck at home suddenly without hockey and a plan you would kill each other.” She thought for a few more moments. “It will be hard. And he needs to know that he is worth giving it up. But you won’t be better people if you do it.”

Shane chewed on his lip. It should be a comforting answer. Yet, he still felt like he was making the wrong decision.

No, that wasn’t it. He knew that he should be able to say something like he would give up playing hockey if it meant Ilya could play again, or even just keep his leg. It should be easy to say. It wasn’t. He loved Ilya more than anything but he could not bring himself to say he would stop playing if that’s what Ilya wanted him to do.

“He will make a good WAG,” Svetlana offered. It was such a clear olive branch that Shane couldn’t help but laugh. He tipped his head back to look at the ceiling, flabbergasted.

“He’d make a good Boston WAG,” Shane countered. “I think he’d scare the Montreal girls.”

Svetlana waved her hand. “Pssh, they would love him anywhere. Besides, how long do you really think you’ll play for the Metros?”

Shane narrowed his eyes. He had every intention of retiring a blue and red jersey. There was no reason to go anywhere else, especially when they were poised for another good run at the cup.

“I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

Svetlana’s eyes roved around his face. She hummed softly and nodded. “I see that.” It sent a shiver up Shane’s spine. It was like she knew something that he didn’t. It was completely unnerving.

They continued to eat their lunch and exchange a few words. Conversation was flowing a bit easier now that they had established a foundation. At least Svetlana seemed to have accepted that he was serious about Ilya, serious about staying. Shane figured that she could do enough damage on her own if he went back on his word that she wasn’t that worried about it.

Eventually, Shane received a text from his mom.

Dad is getting Ilya set up with his phone. PT left, he’s tired.

Shane winced. Tired was probably the understatement of the year. Yuna was not typically one to sugar coat things, but the idea of Ilya in pain and a position of need was foreign to her still. Shane could tell she was adjusting but it took time.

“He’s done with physical therapy. My parents are upstairs,” Shane told Svetlana. She nodded and finished the final drinks of water from her bottle before standing up to throw away her trash.

“He will not be happy to talk. We have to make him.”

When she said it, it sounded easy. He wondered if the conviction came with time around Ilya or if she had always been that way and it was why she had stuck around.

The afternoon was not any easier than the morning. Ilya’s eyes were red when they returned to his room. There was sweat on his forehead and a few curls flattened to the skin around his temples. Every touch made him made, so Shane and Svetlana sat with their hands to themselves in the chairs on either side of the bed. He’d snapped when one of them asked when kind of exercises he’d done and they’d been sitting in silence for twenty minutes when someone knocked on the door.

Shane had seen Brandon Wiebe in the other box at games but had never officially met the man. Today, he wore sunglasses and his mouth was a pinched but Shane figured that had more to do with the concussion than the present company.

“Hey kid,” Wiebe said. Ilya hadn’t turned when the door opened but his head whipped to the door when coach spoke.

“Coach, I did not realize you’d been released,” Ilya croaked.

“The concussion wasn’t that bad,” Wiebe chuckled. Ilya’s eyes were all over, just like when he had tallied each team member safe with his own eyes on the first day he was awake. This was just another piece of the puzzle that Ilya was putting together.

“It is good to see you,” Ilya said finally when he was convinced all was well.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, Roz.” Wiebe took this moment to turn his head with maybe more exaggeration than necessary to look at Svetlana and Shane.

“Svetlana Vetrova,” she said easily, hand outstretched over Ilya’s bed. Wiebe smiled as he shook it.

“Shane. Hollander.” Reluctantly, Shane stuck out his hand.

“I can’t say I’m not surprised to see you,” Wiebe said. He peaked over the top edge of the sunglasses. There was no malice in his eyes, just curiosity.

Shane looked at Ilya. This was another instance of not wanting to tell Ilya’s people anything that he wasn’t okay with. Especially his coach, which was a slightly different professional level than his teammates.

“He is my boyfriend,” Ilya said simply. There were teeth to the statement, a little extra anger funneled from the frustration of the day.

“What he said,” Shane added. He didn’t want Ilya to be alone in this. He always wanted to ease the tension slightly.

Wiebe was silent for a few moments. Shane desperately wished he could see his eyes and how this was being processed.

“Then I’m glad you’re here.” Ilya relaxed slightly and Shane let out a huff. He wanted to grab Ilya’s hand, but he also didn’t want to get smacked in front of Coach Wiebe so he kept his hands in his own lap. Better safe than sorry.

“How are you doing, Ilya?” Wiebe’s voice was soft. Softer than Shane had heard any coach speak, especially in the MLH.

“Shitty.” Wiebe must have communicated some sort of look through the glasses, because Ilya continued. “Chandler will not let me go home until I complete some physio here. It is horrible. I do not want to do it but I really do not want to stay here.”

“We wouldn’t let Florida keep you,” Wiebe said with a huff. “But Chandler is probably right. He normally is.”

Ilya made a small noise of disbelief.

“You have always hated PT,” Svetlana said. “Maybe you will learn to appreciate it now.”

Ilya scoffed. “I appreciate vodka and good cars. Not ancient torture.” They all laughed at that. It was a moment of levity Shane hadn’t been expecting.

“When is the rest of the team headed home,” Svetlana asked. Wiebe’s face dropped slightly.

“Soon, I think. We’re trying to arrange for a bus to take people who don’t want to fly.” Shane shuddered. That drive up the east coast would take almost a full day non stop and would not be pleasant on a bus. It was harder still to imagine forcing anyone to get back on a plane after what they went through. Still, they were professional hockey players. They wouldn’t be able to avoid flights forever.

“And when will we play again?” Ilya question was slightly reserved. Like he was scared of the answer. Like it didn’t break Shane’s heart completely that he’d said ‘we’.

Wiebe shook his head. “No news. My guess is two weeks at least. Not sure if anyone is all that confident in what we could do if we came back this season anyway.”

Ilya made a noise close to a growl. “No, you cannot stop. It is important for the team. For the fans.”

Shane was surprised. While Ilya loved hockey and his job, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever given a shit about the fans.

“That is something to consider,” Wiebe said thoughtfully. This seemed to be enough for Ilya because he didn’t push it any further. He had at least two weeks to make a case at the very least.

Shane’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket as Svetlana asked more questions about Wiebe and the team. He was not surprised to see a notification from Hayden. He’d ignored a few messages from his best friend the previous day. He’d ignored everyone’s messages to be fair but it did feel bad to leave Hayden hanging. When he opened the message, his heart clenched. There were three photos, each of a sheet of paper full of various crayon and marker drawings of varying clarity. Each of the older Pike children had clumsily signed their names in the bottom of the pictures.

Each included some sort of stick figure with yellow hair. Ruby had drawn Ilya with a hockey stick and Jade had included the crown that Ilya wore then he played dress up with the girls. Arthur’s drawing was a bit more abstract, but several red blobs that approximated the shape of hearts surrounded the little stick figure Ilya.

He held his phone out to Ilya wordlessly. He looked suspicious as he took the device. One look was all it took for a sob to escape his throat. Shane reach out and put his hand on Ilya’s shoulder.

Ilya swiped back and forth through the pictures several times. He tipped his head backwards onto the pillows and closed his eyes. His jaw clenched and unclenched several times.

“Tell Pike to thank them.”

Svetlana and Wiebe looked intrigued but did not push. Shane did not feel inclined to share the pictures. While they would understand the sentiment, it felt like these were for Ilya and Ilya alone. They didn’t need to be shared.

“Of course. He says Jackie sends her love too,” Shane said softly. He let Ilya keep his phone. He needed it more than Shane did in this moment.

“Good woman,” Ilya murmured as he opened his eyes and swiped at his face with his hands. “Children and puppies make me cry,” Ilya explained. Nothing more.

Wiebe smiled. “Signs of a good man.”

Wiebe stayed a little while longer. When he left, Shane’s parents returned. After the visit from his coach, Ilya was a little better behaved. There was still lots of ugly feelings floating around the surface, but he seemed to be paddling away from them. That was more than Shane felt like he could ask for in the moment.

When it came time to leave for the airport, the room cleared wordlessly. Svetlana patted his shoulder on her way out of the room, leaving him with Ilya for a private goodbye.

“I’ll call whenever I can,” Shane began. “Dad got your phone set up, yeah?”

Ilya nodded. “Yes, love. It’s right here.” His voice was tired.

“Unless you don’t want me to call. I’ll only call if you want. But any time you want, I-“

“Shane,” Ilya interrupted. “Please call. I will miss you.”

He nodded. “Of course. I’ll miss you too.”

“Please win some games for me. I will be watching. Will take notes on what you do not do right.”

Shane barked out a laugh. “Of course, coach. I expect good critiques.”

Ilya’s face warmed slightly. “Finally, he admits he needs me.”

It was a gloat. Almost a chirp. Shane knew that. The words still struck far too close to home to not bring tears to his eyes. He leaned forward to hug Ilya, to pull his head into his chest.

“Yeah, you’re right. I do need you.”

Chapter End Notes

whoooooooooo, another update! wasn't really planning on getting this out tonight but came home from dinner and the margarita was really speaking to me.

your comments mean the world to me, thanks for reading!

i'm unhinged-ceramic-frog on tumblr

Chapter 8

Chapter Notes

Shane didn’t particularly like airports but he was good at them. There were rules. Most people followed the rules of the airport which made it easier to deal with large crowds of people than normal. Sure, he would prefer if it was a little cleaner and didn’t make him feel so tired and grimy, but it could be worse.

The flight from Tampa to Montreal was miserable. Or he was miserable and blamed it on the airport and the flight and the Uber back to his apartment. He managed to send texts to his parents and Ilya and Hayden that he was home safe before he started a shower. He needed the airport off of him immediately.

When he was out of the shower, it was almost three in the morning and there was nothing to do but go to bed. He crawled under the covers and knew immediately that he wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Since he had Ilya had started dating for real he had noticed a difference in how he slept when they were in bed together versus when they were apart. Even when you took away the aspect of being worn out and sated after having sex, there was a peace he felt sleeping in a bed next to Ilya that he didn’t feel anywhere else.

Shane’s phone pinged. He might as well look.

You will need to sleep in to get all your beauty rest to win tomorrow.

He scowled at his screen, fingers flying to send his response to Ilya.

Why aren’t you asleep? It’s three in the morning.

Ilya responded twice in rapid succession

Not comfortable enough to sleep. I will be fine.

Laying in bed is not that tiring.

Shane considered what he could have meant by not being comfortable. The bed could be at a bad angle, his leg could be hurting, he could be missing sleeping next to each other just as much as Shane was.

I still think sleep is necessary.

The little text bubbles appeared and disappeared several times before Ilya’s next message came through.

I will try. You should too.

Shane sighed. Ilya was right. Tomorrow would suck for a lot of reasons and being sleep deprived wouldn’t help anything.

Alright, goodnight. I love you.

Ilya put a heart on the message and responded with an I love you of his own. Shane put his phone on the charger and rolled over to face the opposite direction. Ilya’s side of the bed. He groaned into his pillow and settled in for an unrestful night.

Nashville wasn’t a team he was particularly worried about. They had a half decent goalie and their first line could move the puck but the had next to no organizational depth. They wore themselves out early and games against them devolved quite quickly. Shane still gave them the benefit of his standard game day routine. At least as standard as it could be when he spent the whole time worrying about Ilya and checking every notification on his phone religiously. He made his protein shake, he did some quick stretches and headed to the rink for morning practice since it was an evening game.

He was typically one of the first players in the locker room. This did not bother him. He preferred it, actually. What did bother him was the fact that Hayden was also here.

Once upon a time, Hayden had been in the first half of players to show up; never one of the first, but early enough to still be decently early. With each Pike child that was born, his arrival time was pushed slightly back. He was very good at showing up with just enough time to suit up and get out on the ice.

“How are you doing,” Hayden asked in a low voice as Shane approached his locker. There wasn’t anyone else in the room but the risk of being overheard still loomed.

“Tired,” Shane admitted.

“Your flight got in pretty late. Thanks for texting me,” he added quickly. Shane gave him a small closed-lipped smile.

“I took the last one I could. It’ll be a while.”

Hayden grimaced. “I’m not looking forward to these road games.” His eyes darted to the large calendar that displayed the game and travel schedule on the wall near their lockers. “We will play in Florida near the end though.”

Shane shook his head. “Should be back in Ottawa by that point.”

“Worth a shot. It will be good to be home though, right?” Hayden was careful to make no mention of a specific person while they spoke. It touched Shane that he was trying so hard, even when the topic was far less general than normal.

“Yeah, I hope so.”

Hayden reached out to put a hand on Shane’s shoulder and squeeze slightly. They weren’t touchy feely friends, especially not at the rink but the touch was grounding.

“Thank you for everything, Hayd.” The words were thick in his throat but he knew he had to get them out. “You’re a really good friend.”

Hayden smiled. “Of course, man. You don’t ever have to ask.”

They continued to get ready and got out on the ice early. It was easy doing this with Hayden. Shane was really glad that he’d showed up early. He hadn’t realized how much he needed it until he had it.

The team filtered in and coach took over efficiently. Theriault also seemed to not feel threatened by Nashville but he ran warm up with his standard precision and slight aggression. They broke after strategy for the night was covered. Hayden invited Shane back to the Pike house for lunch, which he graciously accepted. The idea of sitting at home and waiting for texts from Ilya or his parents sounded a little miserable.

Jade and Ruby were excited to see Shane and launched into a dramatic retelling of their morning doll saga’s storyline as soon as he walked into the living room. Hayden left to help Jackie with the finishing touches on food. Shane curled up on the floor with his back to the couch as he listened to the girls.

He wasn’t prepared for Arthur to crawl into his lap. He was even less prepared for those small eyes to be so full of worry when he asked, “Is Ilya okay?”

Shane coughed to try to cover his startled noise. Based on the looks the twins were giving him he was sure he hadn’t done too well. “Ilya is good. The doctors are taking good care of him.” He tried to keep his voice light and warm. He wasn’t sure how much Hayden and Jackie had told the kids and he really didn’t want to scare them.

“Everyone, food is ready!” Jackie called them from the kitchen table, plastic kid plates ready to go and Amber in her high chair already gnawing at a piece of banana.

“Can Ilya visit soon? He needs a hug.”

Shane closed his eyes as he stood up with Arthur in his arms. He hugged the toddler to his chest. He was so much more perceptive than the girls had been at that age, Shane was sure of it. He didn’t quite know what to do with all his emotions other than try to channel them away from this little human.

“He’ll come over as soon as he can, Art. I’m sure he’d love a hug. He really liked your drawing.” Shane carried him to his spot at the table next to Hayden and dutifully took his own seat across from them. Jackie’s spot was to his right, next to where Amber’s high chair took the head of the table. When she sat down, she leaned over and squeezed his hand gently.

“We can talk after food, but I’m glad you’re here Shane.”

Lunch was an odd mix of normal and completely absurd. Arthur was still fairly subdued, but Jade and Ruby chattered on endlessly. They talked about school and how they wanted to play soccer in the spring and how they were supposed to see their cousins soon. Shane appreciated the routine of it all, listening as he ate, then helping the girls clean up when they were done and ready to go play again.

Hayden got the kids set up with a movie in the living room as Shane helped Jackie with the dishes in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling,” she asked softly as she loaded the plates in the dishwasher.

“A bit crazy,” he admitted. “Everything has changed but so much is the same and I’m not sure if I can be normal.”

“It can’t be easy, having to keep it all hidden, especially now.”

Hayden reappeared before Shane had to answer.

“Shane, we’ve tried to be really calm and patient but it’s time to talk.” Hayden plopped down on a barstool and looked pointedly at the seat next to him. “You never exactly updated us on the whole situation.”

The blood drained from his face. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even realize-“

“It’s okay, Shane,” Jackie insisted. “We’re just worried for you guys. We knew you were busy.”

He was a shitty friend, he thought. It was a wonder that the Pikes had ever latched onto him in the first place.

“I’m still sorry.” He swallowed, hard. “Ilya is doing okay. He has to stay in Florida for a while before they’ll clear him for travel.” He tried to tell them. The words wouldn’t come out. They just weren’t there.

“What is it, Shane?”

He rested his elbows on the counter and pressed his face into his hands. “They had to amputate his leg. Above the left knee.”

The Pikes were quiet. Shane tried to control his breathing but it was getting harder when it was all he could hear.

“Shane, I’m so sorry.” Suddenly, Hayden was hugging him. Jackie rounded the counter to come in from the other side. They stood like that, holding him in between them for a long while. He was glad he was sitting down because his legs certainly would’ve failed him.

Shane rubbed his eyes when they pulled away. “My parents are with him now and they’ll help when he’s back in Ottawa.”

“Your parents are maybe the best people to have around during crazy life events,” Hayden said. “Rozanov is in good hands.”

Shane nodded but his eyes felt misty again. He didn’t want to cry again but he what he really wanted was to be next to Ilya’s bed and that was enough to bring the tears forward.

“I’m sorry you can’t be with him right now,” Jackie said. Of course she saw it. Shane often wondered whether she was incredibly perceptive or whether he was just used to spending all his time with hockey boys. Either way, she saw through him better than most.

“Thank you, Jacks.”

“Of course, Shane. Just do what you need to do and we’ll support you however we can.”

Shane gave each Pike a little smile. They drifted around him in the kitchen, talking softly about their plans for the road game and when Hayden would be available to talk to Jackie and the kids. Eventually they migrated to the living room to watch part of the kids’ movie before Hayden and Shane had to go back to the rink. Ruby sat next to him on the couch, her little body radiating heat on his side. She was content with just the closeness.

Before he left, he gave multiple rounds of hugs to the kids. Jade gripped his neck tightly as she whispered in his ear, “Tell Ilya we love him.” He nodded and assured he would and made an exit before he started crying in front of the kids. While he didn’t think he necessarily had to hide his feelings from them, he certainly wouldn’t be up to explaining anything. It was best to avoid the subject for the moment.

The Voyagers destroyed Nashville. It wasn’t even close. It ended 4-1, Nashville’s only goal coming late in the third period when it was already clear how it was going to end. It wasn’t the best game Shane had ever played but he picked up two points and no one accused him of falling apart after a freak accident with an opposing team so he figured it went as good as he could have asked for. Once he had mostly redressed in the locker room, he pulled his phone out.

His mom had sent a quick congratulations and update for how the day had gone. She didn’t have much to say other than Ilya had been in a pissy mood after PT again and was demanding to know when he’d get to go home. The doctors still didn’t have a concrete answer. His dad had sent a picture of a bird he said he saw on a walk outside the hospital.

Ilya, true to his word, had sent critiques of his game.

Played okay. Little bit like robot.

You missed several looks but your passes were good.

I used to think you were so nice to the reporters.

I don’t think you’re even really listening to them.

He huffed out a laugh. Of course Ilya would chirp his game quotes.

They don’t want real answers. I give them the fluff they’re looking for.

Ilya didn’t respond immediately. It was getting late and he might be tired after not much sleep the night before. Visiting hours had ended sometime in the middle of the game, so it wasn’t like he was distracted by someone else in the room.

His phone pinged. I will show up to your games and ask serious questions. Maybe expose the secrets of robo Shane.

Good luck with that.

They hit the road the next day. They won in St. Louis, a team with a crazy goalie Shane had played with on the national team and a rookie that was making some good goals but a team that was otherwise having a horrible season. Then it was on to Columbus for another generic win. They lost a close game in New York and Scott Hunter invited him to dinner after the game but he declined. Every second he could get that wasn’t spent with the team he was texting Ilya or calling Ilya or sometimes texting his parents and Svetlana to make sure Ilya wasn’t hiding anything from him about how his recovery was going. No time to make small talk.

They went to Dallas next and had to go to overtime to take home the win. The road trip was rounded out by a game in Florida that they won by two goals but spent blood and several penalties to get there. It was two days after Ilya had finally been cleared to make the flight back to Ottawa. While Shane was upset he couldn’t see Ilya, he wasn’t exactly sure how he would’ve explained leaving the team to travel a few hours to see Ilya in the hospital.

When their final flight landed in Montreal, Hayden pulled him into a hug in the parking garage of the stadium after the bus ride from the airport.

“I’ll see you in a few days at the next practice. Go home. Get some rest. Let us know how everything is.”

Shane nodded. “I will, I promise. Maybe we can facetime for the kids.”

“They would really like that,” Hayden said.

“Give them hugs for me. I’ll see you in three days.” Shane waved as he headed to his car. He put his road game suitcases in the back, next to the bag full of street clothes he’d packed and left in the car. He could drive straight to Ottawa, no reason to stop at his apartment. There was no point in wasting time.

Leaving Montreal. Be there soon.

He sent the message in a group chat with his parents and Ilya. He didn’t wait for a response before putting the car in gear and hitting the road.

Chapter End Notes

a quick ctrl-f told me that i've used both the voyagers and the metros for montreal. rip just pretend i didn't.

quick chapter, but shane needed his moment with the pikes and it all didn't fit with the next chapter i've got planned. i'm fighting demons to not get side tracked on a one-shot. i'm moving into a busy few weeks but i'll try to continue to get something out somewhat reliably. thanks for sticking around!

Chapter 9

Chapter Notes

Shane was tense the entire drive. It took right around two and a half hours to get from the stadium to Ilya’s house. Since it hadn’t been a home game, he got out of Montreal with relative ease. His grip on the steering wheel didn’t loosen at all. He never got a message from his parents or Ilya acknowledging that he would be there soon, which worried him more than anything else. What reasons would all three of them have to not respond to their phones?

He tried to keep himself from a spiral but it was hard. He watched the remaining time in the drive tick down slowly and tried to listen to the radii for approximately twenty minutes before he had to turn it off. The tension in his shoulders wasn’t good but he kept his hands on the wheel so he wouldn’t start picking at the skin around his nails or scratching at his leg. There was just nowhere for the nervous energy to go while he was in the driver’s seat.

He pulled into Ilya’s driveway just after ten p.m. Both his mom’s and dad’s cars were in the driveway which allowed him to take one deep breath before he got out. He left his bag in the trunk; there would be time to get it later.

He walked along the path to the front door and hesitated. It seemed wrong to use the doorbell. It also seemed wrong to just walk in unannounced, especially after the unanswered text. Shane frowned as he pulled out his keys and settled on letting himself in while knocking lightly on the door.

“Hey, it’s me,” he called out, voice slightly raised.

“Oh, Shane! We’re in here honey!” His mom’s voice was coming from the direction of the dining room.

Shane was sucker punched by how normal the scene looked. His parents and Ilya were sitting around the table, a half-finished puzzle spread out in front of them. He could see the strategy from here; the edges had been assembled, his mom was gathering beige, his dad had a combination of blues and oranges, and there was a pile of every shade of blue imaginable in front of Ilya. He thought it might be a beach sunset picture.

“David is like a drill sergeant,” Ilya said casually. He tipped his head in Shane’s direction but he did not turn to look at him. It hurt until Shane remembered what his mom had said. The doctor had warned extensively about how important posture would be in the recovery process. Ilya was supposed to keep his legs flat and together when he sat, not favor one side much more than the other, and he would only sit upright for a couple hours at a time. Ilya had said offhandedly two days before that his back had been hurting and he felt his range of motion was limited.

So he moved to take the fourth seat at the table. David reached out to squeeze his shoulder gently. Ilya looked up as he placed a piece along the top of the puzzle, right in front of Shane.

“It was a messy game tonight. You get too tired on the road to have good cup chances.”

Shane scowled. “I don’t think a long road trip in January really inspires the same energy as a playoff run. We’re doing more than fine in the standings,” he pointed out. The Voyagers were almost certainly going to have a decent run at the end of the season.

“We’ll see,” Ilya hummed. Yuna smiled as she placed a piece and leaned back in her chair.

“I think it’s getting close to call it a night, boys.”

“Mom, I just got home,” Shane protested.

Yuna raised her eyebrows. “And you played a game today. Don’t try to tell me you’re not exhausted. Plus, Ilya needs to move a bit.”

Ilya whined. “I do not think that’s necessary.”

Yuna levelled him with a look. Shane suspected they’d had this argument a few times because David did not interfere as the two stared each other day. Finally, Ilya let out a huff and bent slightly to reach below him. He produced a set of crutches and pushed himself up from the table.

Shane knew they’d sent him home with crutches and a wheelchair to use. Ilya hadn’t talked about it, but David had mentioned that Ilya seemed frustrated trying to maneuver the chair around the house and primarily used the crutches. His hands were gripped tightly around the handles and he leaned forward slightly. Shane dutifully kept his eyes on Ilya’s face.

David stood up from the table and gave Shane a side hug. “It’s good to see you son. Let us know if you need anything, but we can talk in the morning.”

Yuna said her own goodnights and then they shuffled off to the guest room they’d been staying in for the last few days. Ilya moved away from the table and towards the kitchen. He kept his back to Shane as he leaned on one crutch and propped the other against the counter so he had a hand free to take a swig from a large water bottle left on the counter. Then he shuffled a few steps over to the cabinet and took down a couple pill bottles.

It was like watching a dance he didn’t know the steps to. Ilya’s routines were not as precise and unchanging as Shane’s, but this was something entirely new and Shane wasn’t sure where he fit into it. Or how much Ilya wanted him to fit into it, based on the hunch of his shoulders.

“Mom and Dad were probably just looking for an excuse to leave,” Shane said weakly. “We don’t really have to go to bed if you don’t want to.”

Ilya turned slowly to face Shane. He was slumped forward slightly on his crutches. Shane desperately wanted to know if it had been adjusted to his height properly but he knew it didn’t matter right now. Ilya looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes were huge. Much more pronounced than they had been in the hospital in Tampa and darker than they had looked in some of the photos his mom had sent him in updates while he was on the road.

“I think maybe going to bed is not such a bad idea,” Ilya said softly. Shane nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

Ilya had been a side sleeper before. That was completely out of the question now. Even laying on his good side wasn’t an option due to the strain it put on his back to try to keep his hips in alignment. So he laid flat on his back.

“Laying on stomach is an exercise now,” Ilya said with disdain as he settled into his pillow. “Now must sleep like corpse and have back feel tight in the morning.”

Shane hesitated as he looked at his side of the bed. Luckily, it was the right side of the bed. He crawled into his spot before he could give himself or Ilya a reason for him to be somewhere else. Ilya stretched out his arm and pulled Shane’s head to his chest. He felt more than he heard Ilya sigh. Ilya’s fingers stroked through the hair at the base of his neck.

“I missed you,” Shane said quietly.

“I missed you, too,” Ilya responded. His fingers stilled but they stayed where they were.

There were so many things that Shane probably should say. Not a single one would come to him in that moment, though. It was like he was incapable of stringing together a single sentence that made sense and wasn’t wildly inappropriate for the moment they were in. So he rolled over and turned off the bedside lamp before he returned his head to Ilya’s chest.

Shane woke to gentle taps on his shoulder. He squinted into the still mostly dark room. It was earlier than Shane normally got up and long before Ilya did.

“Shane, lyubimyy, I need you to move.” Ilya’s voice was hoarse and strained. Shane sat up immediately, the sheets pooling around his hips as he tried to focus his eyes in the dark.

“What’s wrong,” he asked as he reached out. He could feel Ilya’s arms, chest, the side of his face. He seemed a bit warm but that was normal after a night sleeping so close to each other.

“I just have to get up and move.”

Shane watched Ilya’s silhouette as he sat up in bed and moved his right leg over the edge of the bed. His back was fully to Shane but his shoulders were moving. Massaging his thigh, Shane thought. He leaned over to flick on the light on his side of the bed and moved to sit behind Ilya. He pressed his forehead to the skin between Ilya’s shoulder blades and snaked a hand to his right hip.

“You can go back to sleep,” Ilya said. Shane shook his head slightly and didn’t move.

“No, it’s fine. You’re up. I don’t think I could go back to sleep if you got out of bed anyway.”

Shane could feel Ilya’s back tensing and flexing under his forehead. Ilya grunted slightly before his hands stilled.

“Okay.”

Ilya reached for where his crutches were propped against the nightstand, his back pulling away from Shane slightly. Shane sat back up but didn’t move his hand until Ilya pushed himself upright with his crutches.

“What do you want for breakfast, I can get started,” Shane offered.

“You will eat something that is not horrible smoothie,” Ilya asked incredulously.

Shane blushed a little, grateful Ilya couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I figured we could all eat something together.

Ilya turned to face him. He was frowning. “This is not Shane. What have you done with my real boyfriend?”

Even though he was teasing, it eased something in his chest to hear Ilya say boyfriend.

“You’re being a dick,” Shane said as he climbed out of bed to pull on a sweatshirt.

“Yes, because you are not my Shane,” Ilya said as he followed him out of the room and towards the kitchen. When they moved from the carpet of the bedroom to the hardwood of the rest of the house Shane could hear the soft click, click, click of Ilya’s crutches on the floor.

Ilya sat at the table as Shane began to move in the kitchen, pulling out eggs and sausage from the fridge. Ilya watched quietly. Shane normally didn’t like to be watched so closely while he did something like he was being tested but he realized he didn’t really mind. He moved confidently through Ilya’s kitchen as the bacon fried and he toasted English muffins to make little breakfast sandwiches.

“Thank you,” Ilya said softly when Shane brought him his plate and the bottle of hot sauce from the fridge. There were some things he still felt sure of.

“Of course,” Shane said easily.

Ilya finished his first sandwich in silence. Shane watched as he ate his own eggs and bacon, foregoing the muffin. Some things just couldn’t be changed, especially in the middle of the season.

“Your parents will be up soon,” Ilya said finally.

Shane laughed. “You’re really in tune with their schedules already.”

Ilya shrugged. “Yuna is very much like you. It is not that hard.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Okay, maybe not very much.”

Ilya raised his eyebrows. Shane figured he deserved that.

Sure enough, the Hollanders joined them not five minutes later. Yuna got out Ilya’s meds and put them next to his plate wordlessly as she slid into her seat with her breakfast sandwich already assembled in front of her.

“Harris is going to call today,” she said casually. Her eyes betrayed her. She was watching Ilya intently, which meant she saw when he flinched slightly.

“What does he need,” Shane asked defensively.

Ilya sighed. “He wants to know what I want the team to post. About me.”

“Why does the team need to post anything,” Shane asked.

“The Centaurs are going to announce that they’ll start playing games again later this week,” Yuna said. “We’ve gone to great lengths so far to make sure things aren’t leaked and Ilya can tell fans only what he wants to. But they can’t just start playing games and expect no one to ask about Ilya.”

Ilya’s jaw was clenched. “I will talk to Harris. I am sure he already has it all figured out.”

Shane frowned. He didn’t like the idea of Ilya having to announce his injury. It wasn’t something most hockey players had to do; if they were injured, it happened on the ice, in a game, where everyone was already watching. There were clinical announcements from teams about players being moved on and off injury reserves but nothing like this.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to work out what feels right,” David assured. Ilya nodded absentmindedly. Shane did not feel inclined to let Ilya be left alone with some pushy social media manager who might make him say more than he wanted to before he wanted to. Even if Ilya had said he’d really liked Harris in the past.

“Miranda will be here soon,” Ilya said as he pushed himself up from the table. There was still food on his plate. “I need to change and get ready.”

“The team physical therapist has been coming here instead of Ilya having to go to the rink or the hospital,” Yuna explained with a wave of her hand. Shane stared at the half uneaten breakfast sandwich still on Ilya’s plate and nodded.

“That’s nice.”

David frowned. “Shane, it’s okay. Ilya has been prepping for what he wants the team to say. It’s just going to be a hard day. It happens sometimes.”

Shane pressed one hand over his eyes. He kept nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

Yuna pursed her lips. “Honey, I know this is hard, but you are going to need to try to stay level headed about all of this.” Her voice dropped a bit lower. “Ilya has been very reactive. We need to be able to be a strong backing for him.”

Shane huffed out a laugh. The idea of being level-headed was almost impossible to fathom. He still knew that she was probably right.

“He’s going to want us to leave when Miranda gets here,” David said as he stood up from the table and collected the empty plates. “Your mother and I just went on a walk yesterday, but it’s a bit chilly this morning. Maybe we can get out and go to the store.”

Shane hummed in agreement. “I’ll go check if he needs anything.”

Ilya was sitting on his bed in a Cens shirt and a pair of basketball shirt. Most notably, his bandages were off his leg. The skin around the scar was still angry and red. The whole thing looked a bit swollen. Ilya’s hand floated above the stitches. He started when he realized Shane had entered the room.

“What?” He snapped. He pulled a bundle of bandages over his leg. Shane looked away, up to his face, understanding the privacy he wanted.

“We’re going to go to the store while you do PT,” Shane explained weakly. He swallowed. “I just wanted to check if you wanted us to get anything for you while we were out.”

Ilya’s face softened a tad. He still kept his leg covered but his shoulders dropped away from where they’d hunched up towards his ears.

“Oh, thank you.” He thought for a moment. “In the kitchen there is a drawer to the right of the stove with some notecards. I think I have a schi recipe there.”

Shane furrowed his brow but nodded. “Okay, I’ll take a look. Is there anything else?”

“Chocolate milk.”

He laughed. “Yeah, of course. If you think of anything else, let me know.”

Shane thought about just leaving. It was the normal thing to do. This didn’t feel like a normal moment. He took the few extra steps to where Ilya sat on the bed and kissed the top of his head. He didn’t turn around as he left, scared of what he might see.

The recipe for the cabbage soup was indeed in the drawer Ilya had described. The ingredients seemed simple enough and Yuna was more than game to try to make something that Ilya was specifically requesting. They compiled their list for the store and left the house just as the team PT arrived for Ilya’s appointment.

“We’ll see you later, Miranda,” David called as he slid into the driver’s seat of his car.

It felt right to be in the backseat with his parents on the way to the store. It felt like a standard family outing until they were there looking for ingredients for a Russian soup that Ilya had requested and Shane felt a pang at the fact he wasn’t there. Grocery shopping wasn’t something they had done together even before the accident, he thought to himself. Still, it felt wrong to have the family together in one place doing something so domestic without him.

When they returned from the store, they worked together to get the groceries put away. Miranda’s car was still in the driveway but she and Ilya were still in the home gym, door firmly shut. Shane wondered if it was good or bad that he couldn’t hear anything, even dramatic cursing, from within.

Almost two hours after she arrived, Miranda slipped out from the gym. She smiled at David and Yuna and looked at Shane curiously as she came into the kitchen.

“He did good today,” she said as she took a drink from her water bottle. “He wasn’t happy about it. But he’s got a lot of core strength still and we’re trying to make sure his hip flexors don’t get too tight.”

“Is he on his front now,” Yuna asked.

Miranda nodded. “Probably will be for a little bit. He insisted he wanted to get up by himself today but I’d stay close by just in case.”

“You’re wonderful, thank you dear. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Yuna gave a friendly smile and wave as Miranda let herself out the front door. Shane’s face scrunched as his brow furrowed.

“You seemed friendly.”

“Oh, she’s great,” Yuna explained. “The first time she was here, she laid down the law. For all Ilya’s griping about hating physical therapists and trainers, he respects Miranda. She doesn’t take any shit from him.”

“I think she treats him the same as before,” David added. “Pushes him. Expects lots from him.”

Shane’s instinct was to protest. Ilya did not need to be pushed right now, he was still very much in the rest phase of recovery. However, he knew that Ilya resented pity. He probably did really appreciate that someone was still expecting high caliber performance from him, even if the parameters had been modified.

“That is probably good for him,” he admitted. “As long as she’s not going too hard.”

They sat down at the table and quietly resumed the possible they’d been working on when Shane had arrived the night before. Twenty minutes later, the clicks of Ilya’s crutches entered the room.

“The Centaurs will have to say that the plane did not kill me but their staff did,” he huffed. He was standing by the fridge, filling a glass that had been left on the counter with water. Shane had noticed his father set the glass there but hadn’t understand. As he watched now, he could see that the crutches made it almost impossible for Ilya to carry things around with him. Leaving things out where they needed to be used allowed Ilya to move autonomously without asking for help quite so often.

“I don’t think Miranda has murder in her,” David said.

Ilya scoffed. “You have not seen her. She has nothing but malice in her heart.”

“You know you love her,” Yuna teased lightly. Ilya gave a small shrug and a smile.

“I think I will get the torture over with now and talk to Harris. Rip the bandage off.”

“Let us know if you need anything,” Yuna said. Shane watched as Ilya moved to the living room, his skin still a little damp with sweat from the PT and curls sticking to the back of his neck.

“He’ll be okay.” David reached out and squeezed Shane’s shoulder. He nodded and focused on the blue puzzle pieces in front of him.

Shane listened intently as Ilya talked on the phone in the other room. He couldn’t hear any individual words but he hoped that he would be able to intuit any major changes in tone and step in if needed.

It was maybe a silly worry. He didn’t pick up anything out of the ordinary. Fifteen minutes later, Ilya came back to sit down at the table and silently began to work on the puzzle. David and Yuna didn’t seem inclined to press for any details. Shane wished he was that strong. He managed for about forty-five seconds.

“How did it go?”

“Good, Harris knows what he’s doing. I think the post will be up in less than an hour.”

Shane frowned. “That’s it?”

Ilya shrugged and pushed a piece across the table with his finger. “Not much else to know. We are telling the facts. Nothing more.”

Shane wanted to protest, to pry for more but Yuna shot him a look that kept his lips pressed together.

“Harris does very good work, I’m sure it will be nice.” Shane was a little shocked that his Dad knew what Harris’s work looked like. But his parents did follow Ilya’s career now, and went to games in Ottawa and kept tabs on the Cens.

“Yes. He also said that the next time I see him he will have Chiron. Like a reward.”

“He is a pretty cute dog,” David admitted.

“I don’t want to hear it from you two,” Yuna said. “I told you that there will be no dogs until at least summertime.”

@MLHOttawaCentaurs

The Centaur family would like to thank everyone for all the well wishes and good faith since the incident with the team plane on January 8^th. The team will resume games as scheduled beginning next week on February 1^st at the home game against the New York Admirals.

In the accident, several members of the team and staff suffered minor injuries. An updated injury reserve list will be released weekly per MLH standards.

@MLHOttawaCentaurs

While the entire organization was deeply impacted by the incident, it is with heavy hearts that we share that Captain Ilya Rozanov suffered a significant injury in the crash. He will not be returning to play with the team. He will always have a place with the Centaurs and in Ottawa. We ask that you please respect his privacy as he recovers at home at this time.

Chapter End Notes

incapable of standardizing the length of chapters. i guess there are worse vices to have.

situations like this have massive hills and valleys. these are some pretty medium days for ilya. some days will be better. some will be a lot, lot worse.

thanks for continuing on with me.

Chapter 10

Chapter Notes

Ilya turned his phone off that evening. He didn’t say he did but it was pretty clear when it finally stopped vibrating and chiming incessantly. The Hollanders had suggested watching a movie, which seemed reasonable until Shane watched Ilya sit uncomfortable upright for about forty-five minutes before he gave in and laid on his stomach on the floor. The next two days went much the same, with Miranda coming in the morning to do physical therapy which led to tense afternoons and evenings spent trying to find something quiet and relatively relaxing to do together. On the morning of the third day, Shane woke up early to drive back to Montreal for a game. Ilya huffed in bed and moaned about the ungodly hour but he did turn his phone back on and kiss Shane goodbye before going back to sleep.

The game was nothing. An easy win against Buffalo with absolutely no notable events. Ilya didn’t even have unhelpful pointers for him when the game was over. Shane wanted nothing more than to get right back in the car and drive to Ottawa, but that was out of the question. In two days, Montreal would be headed to Ottawa to play the Centaurs in their first game back after the accident. They’d have morning skate in Montreal before busing over.

It was the last game the Voyagers had before the All-Stars break, so nothing was amiss when Shane asked to drive his own vehicle to Ottawa so he could stay with family afterwards. There wasn’t a good way to get out of morning skate though so he had to spend the extra day in Montreal.

“It is fine, Shane,” Ilya had said on the phone. Shane had half a mind to still make the trip back and forth an extra time just to spend the off day in Ottawa. Ilya had put his foot down. “I do not need to be hovered.”

“I’m not hovering! I just thought-“

“No, Shane. No hovering.”

Shane didn’t have time to see Ilya before the game. He practiced with the team, got in his car, and essentially followed the team bus to the rink in Ottawa. He felt a little sick looking at the rink knowing he wasn’t going to be facing off against Ilya.

“Is he coming,” Hayden asked quietly as they walked through the hallway to the visitor’s locker room. Shane pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly.

“I really don’t know. He didn’t want to talk about it at all.”

Hayden frowned. “Do you think he will?”

Shane thought for a moment. “He will want to support the team. I just don’t think he wants to be seen right now.”

“I guess I can’t blame him for that,” Hayden said as they entered the locker room.

Shane had been shocked how little his team had talked about Ottawa’s incident. As he started to unpack his bag, he realized his luck had officially run out.

“Some Ottawa fan must’ve made a wish to a genie to get Rozanov here. They just weren’t specific enough.”

Comeau laughed loudly. “Maybe this will finally do them in, get the whole damn team sent down to the ALH.”

Shane bristled. “Have some respect, no one should have to go through what they did.”

No one said anything to directly contradict their captain but they weren’t smiling. Shane pulled on his gear and decided to try to forget they were getting on the ice to play Ottawa at all.

The rink was the same as it always was. Shane had played in Canadian Tire Center arena hundreds of times. It was actually more crowded than he had seen it in a very long time. He stood at the boards to take in the crowd before he ever touched the ice. He wouldn’t be able to think about it emotionally while he was skating, he couldn’t afford it.

The Centaurs had given three players A’s for the time being. It made sense, especially with Boodram still out because of his broken arm. Dykstra getting the letter was not all that surprising. Troy Barrett and Luca Haas joining him as alternates was a little more surprising. Haas was so young on a team with somewhat established leadership and Troy was a recent trade still proving his mettle on a new team. It made Shane wonder who had made the decision.

His eyes flashed up to the boxes that ringed the stadium. He didn’t see Ilya anywhere. He’d even been afraid to ask if his parents were coming, though they’d made appearances at every Ottawa game for years. Now it felt a little too exposing, even if no one would be able to perceive the change other than himself.

“You coming?” Hayden called from the Voyager’s side where he was stretching. Shane forced a smile onto his face and nodded before stepping onto the ice.

It was worse than he could have imagined. A video played on the jumbotron before the first puck drop, full of clips of Ottawa fans sending well wishes for the team, clips of the team on the ice earlier in the year, and a few shots from what had to be their most recent practice. Shane had to look away the first time he saw a clip of Ilya on the ice. It made him nauseous.

Ilya was not there. Zane Boodram was. He waved as Shane from the Centaurs bench the first time Shane was off shift. His back stiffened instinctively as he thought about the number of people who could see them. He nodded his head in return before turning his gaze to the ice.

The Cens played better than Shane expected. Wyatt was still unshakeable in the goal, only letting two in. Considering how little defensive backup he was getting it was proof of an amazing performance. On the other end, they weren’t able to move the puck much at all. Each line felt just a step out of touch and unable to anticipate a singular move. The puck didn’t find the back of the net even once. Still, Montreal played a brutal game. Once in the second, Olsson started to get a little rough with Luca. Shane put an end to that quickly, pushing the defensemen a little to move his focus.

“Let up on the kid. There’s no reason to be like that.” Olsson sneered but did not talk back. Something curdled deep in Shane’s stomach but he had no idea how to stop the boulder that was starting to roll within the Voyagers. It was not going to end well.

Shane was desperate to get to the locker room when the game ended. He had shaken hands with all the Ottawa players and ignored their knowing looks. He didn’t respond when Hayes told him that he’d see him at the All-Stars game. He hadn’t even responded when Brandon Wiebe stepped onto the ice to clap him on the back before he went through the boards. It was too overwhelming. He beelined for the showers and hoped the water would wash away the unease he felt.

“What do you think happened to him? To not try to come back at all?” Andropov was talking to J.J. in the shower.

“I heard someone say he’s brain dead,” Comeau said as he entered the bathroom.

“I don’t think that’s true,” J.J. frowned. “Could be lots of things, but not that.”

“What do you think, Cap,” someone asked. “What would it take to get you to hang up the skates?”

The breath was knocked from Shane’s chest. He turned the water off and turned on his heel to leave.

Shane dropped his bag just inside the door. “Mom? Dad? Ilya?”

“Hey kid,” David said as he appeared from the living room. “Good game. We all watched in the living room.”

Shane peered behind his father. He could see Yuna on the couch but not Ilya.

“Where?”

David’s smile tightened. “He went to his room. I think it was hard.”

Shane leaned down the hallway. Ilya’s door was shut at the end. “How long did he last?”

“Til the third. You took a hit and he was done.” Shane pressed a hand to his side. He had forgotten that he’d been boarded. It was clean and nothing of note. The soreness blended with the rest of the standard post-game aches.

“Thank you. For everything.” Shane gave his dad a quick side hug before he went to knock on Ilya’s door.

No response. Shane pushed the door open gently. The bedside lamp was on but there was no other light in the room. It was enough for Shane to see Ilya laying face down in his pillow, the blankets pulled up around his ears.

“Ilya? Are you awake?”

He got no response. He rounded his side of the bed and pulled back the covers. He planned to lay here and watch Ilya sleep until he felt strong enough to talk to his parents. It made it that much more surprising when Ilya’s head shifted slightly and he could see the wet tracks on his cheeks.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?”

Ilya let out a wet laugh. “It’s over.”

Shane said nothing. There were no words that wouldn’t feel hollow or be blatant lies. There was no point in telling him he’d play again. That it would be easy. That some huge part of his life wasn’t closed to him forever. Skating and hockey had been such a huge part of both of their lives it was almost impossible for Shane to pull any sense of himself away from the sport.

They’d talked once, curled in bed at the cabin, that it would be hard to retire. The free time would be great and at some point, it would be nice to not be in the constant pain that came with a brutally long season. They’d agreed it would be hard to find what they were if not hockey players. Ilya had abruptly and forcibly made that transition.

“I am sorry.”

Ilya wept. His cries were mostly silent but his shoulders shook and he buried his face in the pillow. Shane reached out to put his hand on Ilya’s back, in his hair, on his arm, anywhere to create a grounding connection.

“I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

They didn’t talk about it in the morning. They didn’t talk about it the next day either. The next, Ilya was out of bed and dressed and pacing around the house on his crutches like a caged cat.

“Do you know what’s up,” Shane asked in a hushed voice as he and his father made breakfast for the others. Yuna and Ilya were in the living room to watch the morning news.

“He had his first appointment for a prosthetic fitting today,” David said simply. Shane’s mouth gaped.

“What? He didn’t tell me.”

David frowned. “He wants to go alone. Made me promise to stay in the car when I drive him to the doctor’s office.”

Shane hummed as he flipped and omelet. “And you agreed?”

“Shane, he’s a grown man,” David pointed out. “I can’t really stop him. Plus, I don’t think he’s going to disappear if one of us doesn’t keep eyes on him.”

That hadn’t been Shane’s fear until his dad had said it. Now he was particularly worried that Ilya would cease to exist if there wasn’t a Hollander within twenty feet of him.

“I just don’t know why he didn’t tell me.”

“That’s a question you’ll have to ask him, son. Please don’t tell him how you found out.”

David took a plate of sausage and friend breakfast potatoes to the table. Shane continued to make omelets as he thought about what Ilya might not be telling him.

The next morning in the shower after a run Shane made a decision.

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not going?”

“I’m going to opt out of the All-Star game,” Shane said. Shrugged.

“No, that’s stupid.” Ilya was fuming. He looked ready to wave his crutch aggressively at Shane.

“Guys opt out all the time. I’ve been to so many. Let someone else take the spot and have a good weekend.”

“Shane,” Ilya’s voice hardened. “You would not have done this before.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” Shane sat down on the couch and tilted his head. “Before, it would have been nice to see you for the weekend and play on the same team. Now, there’s no reason to go. So I won’t.”

“I don’t want you to stay here to pity me,” Ilya ground out.

“It’s not pity.”

His eyes flashed. “Then what?”

“I’m tired. I don’t want to go to Anaheim to play some stupid three on three tournament that doesn’t matter. I’d rather have a break and stay home.”

Ilya scoffed. “And let some idiot like Dallas Kent beat your skills records?”

Shane shrugged. “The records that matter have stood for a while. I think they’ll be okay without me there to defend my honor.”

Ilya was running out of steam. “I do not understand why-“

“I just don’t want to go. It’s simple this time.”

Ilya frowned but seemed to concede. He pushed himself up with a crutch and click click clicked away to the kitchen.

Yuna must have been waiting in the wings. She swooped in as soon as Ilya was out of the room. “Shane, are you serious?”

“Yes, Mom.” He steeled himself for a fight. “There’s no reason for me to go. I’ll tell Farah right now, make sure they can pull in someone else and everything will be fine.

She didn’t push. Instead, she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and pulled out her phone. “I can handle it.

Shane blinked. “Thank you. That’s really helpful.”

“Of course, honey. I’ll send you a draft before I send it.”

Shane pulled out his phone to remove the All-Stars game from his calendar. He tried to not look at the long stretch of games that would last until at least the middle of April.

“Shane I swear to God I will send you home,” Ilya said through gritted teeth as they stood outside the car in the doctor’s office parking lot.

“And who would drive you home then?”

“An Uber! Your Mom! Anyone in the damn city of Ottawa!”

“Please, Ilya, I just want to hear what your doctor has to say.”

Ilya pursed his lips. “It is just a modelling appointment. Assessing how the swelling has gone down.”

“And talking about the timeline and process moving forward. I promise I won’t say anything, I’ll just listen.” Shane would really want to say something. He was sure he’d want to ask questions. However, if taking a vow of silence was what it took to get into the room, he’d do it.

Ilya pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not talking. No bothering the doctor. And you will leave if I ask.”

“Of course,” Shane agreed quickly.

“Do not make me regret this.”

Ilya crutched towards the office quickly. Shane held open the door and dropped his gaze. This could be a fight too if he played it wrong.

Ilya got checked in and just as soon as he sat down in a waiting room chair, the nurse was calling them back to an examination room. Shane pulled his hat a little lower but stuck to his word and did not speak as the nurse led them through the halls.

“Here you go, Mr. Rozanov, doc will be in right away. We’ll try to get you in and out today.”

Shane wasn’t sure if his no speaking rule was only for when medical professionals were in the room but he didn’t risk it. They sat in complete silence for six minutes while they waited.

“Ilya, it’s good to see you again.” The woman who entered was in her fifties, hair streaked with gray and smile lines visible on her face. She did not seem surprised to see someone else in the room at all but she only had eyes for Ilya.

“Hello, Dr. Kareem.”

“How’s the scar been the last few days,” she asked as she sat on a backless rolly chair. She was washing her hands and pulling on gloves and rolling across the room in a matter of seconds.

“Fine,” Ilya answered gruffly. “I have been doing the exercises meant to stop the, uh.” Ilya paused for a moment. “Contractures.”

“Good. It’s very easy to forget to do but it really will help in the long run, I promise.”

“When do you think the swelling will be gone,” he asked as she pulled off the bandages around his leg.

“Hard to say,” she murmured. Dr. Kareem’s fingers gently pressed and prodded at the remaining limb as she spoke. “You have been healing well. An athletic body tends to handle something like this better than the average person.”

“That was not an answer.”

She smiled a bit. Shane could see why Ilya liked her. “I would give you an answer if I thought I could bet on it. As it is, I think we’re anywhere from three to seven weeks before we can get you fitted with a diagnostic.”

“Diagnostic?”

Kareem didn’t seem annoyed or put off by explaining. “Like a temporary prosthetic. It will allow me to see how your gait is adjusting and what modifications need to be made for the real deal. You won’t have to wear it long.”

Ilya nodded. “Okay. But I would like to start this diagnostic as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry, Ilya. I think you’re on track to recover incredibly well and I see no reason for this to be any different.”

That evening, David and Yuna went to get dinner on their own and check in on their house. Shane couldn’t tell who needed the break the most. It seemed like the right idea for everyone involved regardless. Until it wasn’t.

“I just don’t feel hungry, Shane.”

“You need the nutrients; you barely ate lunch either.”

“I think I will be fine-“

“I already made that food, it’s not that big of a-“

“I said I didn’t want to-“

“Just something, please-“

“I said no!” Ilya’s yell spooked him enough to drop the fork he’d been using to fluff the rice in the cooker.

He turned to look at Ilya who grabbed for his crutches and was headed straight for the door.

“Ilya, wait.” He called again when Ilya didn’t turn around. He left the rice and went to follow.

“What are you doing?”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up and my back hurts and my shoulders ace and my leg is on fire and I just want the day to be over.”

Shane slowly reached a hand out. When Ilya didn’t flinch away, he set it on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Ilya. I wish I could fix it.”

Ilya closed his eyes and tipped his head forward. His shoulders were tense as he swagged over his crutches. “There’s no fixing this, Shane.”

Shane swallowed. “I know. I just hate to see you upset.”

Ilya’s hand twitched on the crutch cross bar. “I think I need to go to bed.”

Shane nodded. “Okay. Okay, let me know if you need anything.”

Shane listened to the click of the crutches get further away and the door to the bedroom shut firmly before he returned to the kitchen. His parents found him there, sitting on the floor, rice long cold in the cooker at eleven pm.  

Chapter End Notes

a collection of short scenes to show how (not) well everyone is handling this. the learning curve is steep. feel free to assume all the scenes you don't see are as equally tense and weird and awful.

we are montreal voyager haters in this household. fuck those guys.

thank you for following along! april and maybe are super super busy for a variety of reasons but i'm going to continue to try to get this brain worm out and to you guys. your support means a ton!

i'm unhinged-ceramic-frog on tumblr

Chapter 11

Chapter Notes

note the updated tags my friends. ilya is going through some highs and lows and while nothing in this chapter is too explicit or heavy, we are moving in that direction

Shane slept on the couch that night. His parents didn’t ask what had happened. Yuna looked between her boys with a pinched face at breakfast the next morning but never pried. Shane did notice, however, that after that his parents didn’t leave Ilya’s house together. One stayed behind with the boys every time. It stung a little and felt like he was being babysat but there was a part of him that was grateful. Sometimes Yuna was the only one who could make Ilya smile and David was the only person who could get him to do something other than watch old movies on the couch.

The night of the All-Stars skill competition, David had just stood up to start making dinner when the doorbell rang.

Shane frowned. “Are you expecting anyone?”

Ilya looked just as confused. “No, there is no one.”

Shane uncurled from his spot in the corner of the couch to go to the door. Just as he reached for the handle, he heard the clicks of Ilya’s crutches behind him.

On the other side of Ilya’s front door was Zane Boodram and a very pregnant woman. They were both holding disposable aluminum food trays.

“Hollander, I thought you’d be here when they said you weren’t going to be at All-Stars,” Bood said with a smile.

“Bood? Cassie? What is going on?” Ilya appeared over Shane’s shoulder.

“I tried to send you a text,” he said pointedly. “But we figured we could watch Hayes do some freaky goalie shit and laugh at the kids who think they’re going to touch your records. Plus, we brought food.”

Shane held his breath as Ilya stayed quiet. The afternoon had gone well, but he’d been testy with Miranda that morning and Shane was getting worse and worse at guessing how Ilya was going to respond to anything.

“Of course. Come in, you will love David.”

Shane exhaled deeply. He held the door open wide and stepped back to let the couple through. Yuna and David were waiting at the door of the kitchen, clearly as shocked by the visitors as Shane.

“This are Hollander’s parents, Yuna and David,” Ilya explained. “David, Yuna, this is Cassie Boodram and her husband Zane.”

Cassie grinned at Ilya as she set the trays she carried on the counter. “Ilya has always been my favorite for a reason.”

“It’s very nice to meet both of you,” Yuna said with a smile.

“I am excited to pick the brains of the people who made this wonderful hockey machine,” Bood said as he set his trays down and started to take off the lids. “I hope everyone is hungry. I made all my star dishes.”

“Bood loves to grill,” Ilya supplied. “He is quite good at it.”

They fell into a surprisingly easy rhythm. David took Cassie to the table so they could sit and asked about her work and the baby and their plans for the offseason. Yuna and Bood talked hockey as they got out plates and laid out the food to be served, with Ilya interjecting as he saw fit. It was the most animated that Shane had seen Ilya since he’d been in Ottawa. He watched quietly and took his seat at the table when it was time and dutifully tried all the meats, though he stuck to grilled zucchini for his side.

“The team was starting to worry when we hadn’t heard from you,” Zane said softly to Ilya as he reached for more chicken.

Ilya ducked his head slightly. “I did not mean to make you worry,” he admitted. “I just…did not know what to say.”

“We’re not looking for locker room speeches or anything. Just proof of life, man.”

Ilya gave him a weak smile. “I will try to do better.”

Bood smiled. “All I can ask for. That, and some of the good Russian vodka that I know you have stashed in the freezer.”

Ilya and Bood went to the kitchen together, Zane slowing his steps to keep Ilya’s pace on his crutches.

“Thank you for coming over,” Yuna said to Cassie.

“Of course,” she said with a wave of her hand. “We love Ilya, we were worried about him. Although it’s wonderful that he has you here for support.” She smiled at Shane. He nodded and tried not to think too hard about the fact that he was no longer completely in control of how many people knew about he and Ilya’s relationship. One thing at a time.

“Has he really not talked to anyone on the team?”

Cassie pressed her lips together. “No, not that we know of. I know Zane and Wyatt have tried several times. Even Coach said something about not getting a hold of him.”

Shane glanced at his parents. They seemed just as shocked by this information as he was. Ilya hadn’t ever deliberately said that he was or wasn’t talking to people outside of the house but it had been assumed. Shane was far more worried now that he was missing something.

“I’m glad you didn’t take no answer for an answer,” David said. He artfully steered the conversation somewhere safer before Ilya and Bood returned. Shane scratched at his palms under the table as he tried to replay the last few days in his head.

“I think they’re starting soon,” Bood said easily when they returned. This led to an immediate flurry of activity. Zane helped his wife up from the table and sent her off to the living room with a glass of water. Shane and David cleared the plates and efficiently loaded them in the dishwasher as the others settled on the large sectional and smaller loveseat in the living room and turned on the skills competition.

Shane took his standard corner spot and spent more time watching the profile of Ilya’s face than he did the TV. He jeered when Scott Hunter lost the stick handling competition. He booed when Dallas Kent took off in the speed skating comp and looked incredibly smug when he didn’t touch Shane or Ilya’s personal bests. He cheered and pumped his fist when Hayes made the most saves of all the goaltenders in the one-on-one. He talked to Bood and Cassie and Yuna and sometimes he looked at Shane and smiled.

With a little bit of spark present, it was easy to see how flat Ilya had been recently. Shane had known, naturally, that something was up. He just hadn’t realized the full extent.

After the skills competition was over and they stopped broadcasting player interviews, Bood and Cassie packed up and said their goodbyes and made Ilya promise to respond to their texts.

“I think Haas might lose it if you don’t talk to him, man,” Zane said as he gave Ilya a hug. Ilya’s smile tightened.

“I will make sure rookie does not have breakdown,” he said. Bood gave him a firm pat on the shoulder and waved to the Hollanders as he walked Cassie to their car.

“I can see why he made a good A,” Yuna mused as she watched them from the front door.

“One of the best,” Ilya said softly.

Something tickled the back of Shane’s mind. “Have you heard from Cliff?”

Ilya’s head snapped towards Shane. His lips were pursed tightly. “He has reached out, yes.”

Shane knew enough now to know that Ilya hadn’t responded. It made his chest ache, for Ilya not having support and for the Boston teammates somewhere that don’t even really have proof their old captain is alive.

“You should talk to him. I bet he’d appreciate it,” David said. It helped dissolve some of the lump in Shane’s throat, but not all of it.

The next day is the actual All-Stars game. As a three-on-three tournament, there is no defense to be seen and mostly just showboating. Ilya insists on cheering for Hayes and pretends to think Scott Hunter is tanking his team.

Two days later, Shane has to go back to Montreal. He’d been watching the calendar creep closer. Until the playoffs started in mid-April, he would only have a couple instances of more than one or two days off at a time. Mostly, he’d spend all his time playing in Montreal or preparing to leave and play a game in another city. There weren’t ridiculous stretches of road games but there wouldn’t be much time for trips to Ottawa.

“Sveta will be here tomorrow,” Ilya said as Shane packed.

“Does she know how long she’ll stay?”

Ilya shrugged. “At least three weeks. Maybe longer.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’ll get to see her a few times.”

Ilya nodded as his gaze tracked Shane’s hands. He was sitting on the bed with his back on the headboard. He had his compression sleeve off his leg and was gently massaging down his thigh.

“At least it is easier than trying to coordinate two hockey schedules.”

Shane’s eyes darted up. “Ilya.”

He waved his hand and looked away. “Do not make it a big deal. I am just saying the truth.”

“You are worth more than the most complicated conflicting schedules in the world,” Shane said as he moved to stand next to the head of the bed. He reached out to hold Ilya’s face in his hands. Ilya nuzzled his cheek into the palm of his hand.

“I will miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Ilya.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to Ilya’s forehead. The other man’s eyes were closed. He looked caught somewhere between pain and content.

“If you can not make it in from Montreal, I will understand.”

“I’ll make it,” he said firmly.

Ilya pressed his face harder into the hand on his cheek. “You should win the cup again this year.”

Shane laughed. “Yeah, that is typically the goal.”

Something crossed Ilya’s face briefly but he didn’t vocalize the thought. “I just think you have a good chance, is all.”

Shane stroked his thumb across Ilya’s cheek. “It’ll be for you.”

“Oh, I could be like Scott Hunter’s hot young boyfriend and come down to ice to kiss you better than they did.”

“There is no way you’d do that,” Shane sighed. Ilya raised one eyebrow. “No.”

Ilya’s turn to sigh. “Whatever you say, moy lyubimyy.”

Shane continued to fold his clothes and stack them neatly in his duffle bag. He played a home game in Montreal first, then he’d had to pack again to go to Boston. Now that Ilya wasn’t there, Shane hated playing games in Boston. He suspected it would be even harder than usual.

When the laundry was folded and packed away, he crawled into bed next to Ilya, who went soft and pliant in his arms. Shane kept one hand on the side of his neck, cradling his face, while the other twisted golden strands of hair around his fingers. Ilya’s eyes were getting heavy and Shane knew that he’d have to move into a better position and put his compression sleeve back on or he’d be in a world of hurt in the morning but in that moment it was impossible to move.

He leaned down and gently, gently pressed a kiss to Ilya’s lips. When Ilya sighed into it and truly became dead weight in his arms, Shane realized it was the first time they’d actually kissed since they’d fought on Boxing Day. It was enough to make him cry.

He got updates from Svetlana and his parents while he was away. After the Boodrams showed up on his front porch, Ilya apparently had been responding to text messages. Svetlana said he’d talked on the phone with Luca for a bit, had answered Coach Wiebe and Harris, and had even spoken to Scott.

“He misses the team very much,” Svetlana said one night. Shane had just gotten home from Boston. His ribs were a bit bruised and he was incredibly tired.

“He should go into the arena,” Shane suggested.

“He won’t. He does not like to use his crutches in public.”

Shane frowned. “I guess it’s not that much longer until he gets fitted for his prosthetic.”

Svetlana clicked her tongue. “His temporary fitting prosthetic. And even once he gets the real one, he will have to ease back into use. He will be using the crutches for a while. He might never stop needing them at least sometimes.”

Shane knew this, of course. He’d poured over every resource he could find. Mostly generic “what to expect” instructions from doctor’s offices online, but sometimes there were things that were helpful.

“Still, I think he and the team need each other.”

“The Centaurs are screwed if they don’t get it together. They need a better draft pick next year and there’s a lot of games to win before that’s on the table.”

Shane hummed softly. “I’ll try to think of something to get him to talk to them.”

“Good luck with that,” Svetlana said.

Three days later, Shane was finally able to make it back to Ottawa. He’d only be there for thirty-six hours, but it was more than nothing and it had been a week since he’d seen Ilya last.

He sent the usual on my way text to a group that now had his parents, Ilya, and Svetlana. Her being in Ottawa was really helpful. Shane was grateful for how his parents had stepped up for Ilya, but staying full time in someone else’s house and acting as a caretaker was hard. This way, they were able to give each other breaks and keep Ilya from going insane. Win win situation.

 It is not a very good day.

Svetlana’s response was ominous. Shane squinted at the message as he drove. Tried not to think about what that would entail.

When he made it to Ilya’s house, it was pretty clear. The fair felt thick and the whole house was quiet. Normally, there was music playing somewhere. Ilya rarely sat in silence.

“He’s in his room,” Svetlana said from her spot on the couch. She was as dressed down as Shane had ever seen her, in black lounge pants and a deep burgundy sweater that looked just fashionably oversized.

“How long?”

She cringed slightly. “About five yesterday.”

Shane blinked. “And you haven’t made him get up?”

Svetlana gave him a stern look. “He’s not a child. I can’t make him do anything. Besides,” she softened. “This isn’t a tantrum he’s throwing. I think it’s just been a hard day.”

Shane moved down the hallway quietly. Maybe he should have telegraphed his arrival a little more, advertised his presence. But he wanted to see what state Ilya was in.

He was lying flat on his back in bed. His fingers were folded together over his stomach but his hands were tense. Ilya’s eyes were open but hazy; he stared straight up at the ceiling. He didn’t even twitch when Shane pushed the door open.

“Ilya?”

No response.

“Ilya, do you need anything?”

When there was still no response, Shane moved to sit on the bed next to him. He reached out to Ilya’s hands and placed his on top. Proved his presence.

Ilya stayed quiet for several moments. “I wanted to be like her, so much.”

“Who?”

“Mama,” Ilya said with a sad smile. His eyes moved to meet Shane’s. “She was so kind. I thought she was the best person I knew.”

Shane gave him a little smile and squeezed his hand. Ilya pressed his eyes closed.

“I did not want to be like this part of her. I am scared.”

Shane’s stomach dropped. “Ilya-“

“I am okay, Shane.” His voice was so, so sad. “I do not want to. But sometimes it is hard not to think about.”

Shane leaned forward to press his forehead to their hands. He took deep breaths. He blinked the tears out of his eyes before Ilya could see them.

“Ilya, have you been talking to anyone?”

He hesitated. “Some of my friends. Small things.” Shane gave him a pointed stare. “Not Galina. I do not know how to put it into words for her now.”

Shane let out a deep breath. “Your therapist is there to help you find the words. I think she could be helpful.”

Ilya nodded and closed his eyes again. “I will try. I promise I will try.”

Shane let out a shaky breath and kissed the back of Ilya’s hand. A promise would have to do for now.

Chapter End Notes

i have no recollection of when bood’s baby was born in the canon timeline so I have decided that it hasn’t happened yet because i said so

also because i say so my fictional version of a fictional version of the nhl handles draft picks the way the pwhl does so tanking has no value and teams are incentivized to play well after they are mathematically eliminated from playoff contention. i hate teams that tank and more so i hate the system that allows tanking to be beneficial

shane does not always handle the idea of therapy and ilya talking to people well. i don't think it's all stinkers but moving forward, it's going to be a pretty mixed bag that is kind of hard to swallow at times. this chapter's shane has been In A Bubble and hockey brain shane unfortunately handles things a little differently.

as always, thanks for following along. your support is so greatly appreciated.

Chapter 12

Chapter Notes

They ate dinner in bed that night. It was a fight to get Ilya to eat anything at all, but then Svetlana appeared with pelmeni. Shane was willing to let the three of them curl up on top of the sheets to eat together and some of the exhaustion faded from Ilya’s face. He only ate a few of the beef and lamb dumplings but dipped them generously in sour cream and drank some water. Shane figured he couldn’t ask for much more in the moment.

Shane got to stay the entire next day. Ilya got out of bed, had his normal appointment with Miranda, and stayed in the living room to talk in quiet Russian with Svetlana. Once again, Shane wished he’d learned more but he was grateful that Ilya was talking to someone. Maybe it was easier in his mother tongue.

He had to leave early the next morning to get back to Montreal for a flight to New Jersey. Ilya kissed him goodbye at the front door.

The Montreal season continued to be mostly unremarkable. They were winning games, far more than they were losing, but it just felt like a solid season. Shane wanted the cup again, badly. There was still a small part of him that guessed they’d only make it to the second round of the playoffs.

The Centaurs weren’t playing as bad as he (and many others) had expected. Mostly, they were playing similarly to how they had before the crash. To say, not great, and certainly at a loss without Ilya, but they hadn’t completely tanked. Bood would be a solid addition when his arm was healed up. They might even have a shot at a half decent draft pick.

It was still almost two months until the playoffs would start, though. And Shane was exhausted. He had been playing hockey professionally for years, and was used to the schedule. But now every moment that wasn’t spent playing or practicing he was driving to Ottawa. It wasn’t even remotely restful to be there on his days off as he worried over Ilya.

“Shane, you do not need to follow me into the kitchen,” Ilya chirped one day as he crutched out of the living room. Shane was already halfway up.

“I’m refilling my water,” he protested weakly. Ilya shot him a dark look as he moved to the fridge. In between visits, Svetlana and Shane’s parents had clearly been helping Ilya adapt the kitchen. It had taken Shane a moment to remember that the glasses were now one cabinet over from their old position, but now Ilya didn’t have to move from the cabinet to the sink to fill it with water. The snacks were next to the plates and reusable ziplock bags had appeared that allowed Ilya to carry things out of the kitchen with less risk of mess.

“Your water is already full,” Ilya tsked. He pulled a bag of shredded cheese from a drawer and began to eat small handfuls of it.

Shane made a face. “I could make you food if you wanted.”

“No, this is what I want.”

“Offer stands,” he muttered as he moved to fill up his water. Ilya had been right, it was almost full.

Seemingly satisfied with his several handfuls of cheddar, Ilya crutched back to the living room where Svetlana was working on her laptop. Shane was left idly wondering how well Ilya could reach the bottom cabinets in his kitchen.

A week later, Shane was on a bus leaving the stadium in Seattle when he received a text from Ilya.

Boston played in Ottawa tonight.

Shane frowned. Ilya hadn’t been talking much about the Centaurs or their schedule. He talked even less about Boston since he’d left the team.

How did it go? Haven’t been able to check scores yet.

Boston won in overtime.

The little typing dots did not go away. Shane rubbed his palm across the top of his thigh as he waited for the next message.

Marlow texted me. They do not fly out until tomorrow afternoon.

Shane bit his lip. He wasn’t sure what the correct response in this situation was. He was relieved that Cliff had reached out to Ilya. He wanted them to hang out or keep texting at least. If Ilya had brought it up, he must be considering it at least. Shane didn’t want to scare him away from it.

That’s nice. I know it’s been a while.

I asked him to come over tonight.

Shane let out a quiet sigh. Hayden shifted next to him and raised an eyebrow but he ignored it.

He wasn’t surprised that Ilya hadn’t suggested meeting somewhere in public. Other than going to his doctor’s office, he hadn’t left the house. A few days ago, Svetlana had sent Shane a text that she’d drive them to the store because he thought he was up for it. Instead, he sat in the car with his hood pulled up and his chair leaned back.

Even if he wasn’t going out, it was huge that he invited Marlow over. Ilya had texted some of his teammates but hadn’t seen anyone since Bood had showed up to the house. He didn’t see anyone other than Miranda for PT, Svetlana, and the Hollanders.

Sounds great. I hope you guys have fun catching up.

Shane locked his phone and glanced out the window. He could see Hayden’s reflection. He was very unsubtly watching Shane.

“He’s hanging out with Marlow tonight,” Shane said quietly. Hayden’s face softened.

“Good for him.”

Shane nodded. He was about to elaborate when his phone buzzed again. Another text from Ilya.

Is it okay if I tell him about us?

Shane instinctively flipped his phone over so the screen was against his leg. Hayden gave him a pointed look but didn’t ask anything. Shane didn’t provide.

He also didn’t answer Ilya’s text.

Ilya doesn’t say anything about it. Shane feels a little nauseous every time he thinks about it but he isn’t guilty enough to bring it up. In the last two months, the number of people who knew about their relationship ballooned drastically. It freaked him out, honestly, that he no longer had a firm grasp on just how many people knew. Pretty much everyone involved with the Centaurs had seen Shane or the Hollanders around after the crash. That meant that any of their partners or families or friends might also know.

From everything Ilya had said, Cliff was a good friend. Still, the possibility that it would spread through the Bears was enough to make Shane balk. The further it spread through the league, the more likely it was to affect the games and all the more likely it’d be leaked to the public. It was a can of worms Shane couldn’t afford to even look at.

The rest of the road trip in Seattle and Vegas went fine, even with Shane’s worrying. He was just glad they’d be rewarded with back to back home games and just enough of a break in between to make it to Ottawa.

“The kids and Jackie say hi,” Hayden said as they put their suitcases in the trunks of their respective cars. “I’m sure the girls could whip up more pictures if he wants.”

Shane shook his head with a sad smile. “He really enjoyed the last ones. I just think it’s hard for him, y’know. To think of them but not be able to come visit.”

Even if Ilya could handle the idea of being seen in public it wasn’t likely he’d make the drive to Montreal. It was right at the limit of the amount of time he felt comfortable sitting in one place and the idea of trying to use crutches around rambunctious toddlers seemed a little bit like a nightmare.

“Maybe when the season is over the Pikes can round up and make a trip to the nation’s capital,” Hayden offered.

Shane bit his lip. “We’ll see. I hope that’s on the table.”

“Have a safe drive, man.” Hayden gave him a clap on the shoulder and slid into the driver’s seat of his own car. Shane

Shane had made the drive between Montreal and Ottawa several times since he’d been drafted, but now he was confident he could do it in his sleep. He sent the usual texts and turned on the radio for something to distract himself with on the drive.

Ilya had been in a good mood when Shane made it home. He had plenty to say about the road games and how Shane had played. Svetlana was leaving in a few days so Ilya was wrapped up in her presence. Shane’s parents came for dinner. Ilya ate and laughed and things seemed almost normal.

The mood held into the morning. Ilya was up and eating breakfast with Shane, which had been a rarity even before.

“Shane,” Ilya started as he took a bite of an apple. “Will you come with me to my appointment today?”

Shane scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, of course. Something special?”

He nodded. “Today, they use the diagnostic to make final fit adjustments for my temporary prosthetic.” He said the last word carefully, clearly enunciating each syllable.

“Oh? I thought you still had a week or two before you did that.”

“Doctor said my swelling was down lots,” Ilya preened. “So it’s time for next step.”

“That’s great,” Shane said honestly. He was glad that Ilya was so excited about it. In airports and hotel rooms and on buses, he’d been doing lots of research. Not all amputees wanted a prosthetic or were a good candidate for one. As far as Shane knew, it had never occurred to Ilya to not wear a prosthetic leg. However, many amputees felt conflicted about their artificial limbs and the process of getting used to it. Ilya hadn’t shown any signs of that. He really, really hated the crutches and seemed pretty willing to do whatever it took to get rid of them as soon as possible.

“And if I am good maybe we can get a treat afterwards.”

Shane scoffed. “Yeah, we’ll see about that. First step, you’d have to be good.”

Ilya gave him a frown, then widened his eyes. “Me? But I am always so perfect.”

Shane laughed and Ilya went back to eating his apple. It felt easier to talk than it had in a while.

Naturally, it didn’t last. It took all of twenty-five minutes in the doctor’s office for Ilya to be agitated and ready to fight anyone who breathed in his direction.

Shane had watched silently as they’d instructed Ilya how to put on his ‘stump sock’, which was a name that felt so fake Shane had a hard time believing that’s what it was really called. Then, they pulled out the leg. The top, where it would connect to Ilya, was a clear plastic. That was the whole point of this version of the leg. They were looking to make sure the molds they’d taken were accurate and that nothing would rub or pinch or squeeze.

“Okay, Ilya,” Dr. Kareem starts. “We’ve talked a little bit about technique, so I want you to try to put the socket on yourself. Don’t try to stand yet, let’s just see how it feels without any weight.”

Ilya tugged on the stump socket one more time before reaching gingerly for the leg. Below the clear plastic socket was an exposed joint in the place of the knee and a metal rod that led to another joint for the ankle and an almost hilariously fake looking foot.

Ilya clenched his jaw as he pulled the socket onto his leg. He stared at the leg and how it bent slightly at the knee to stick off the edge of the table at a weird angle. When he finally let out a breath, his mouth was pulling down into a frown.

“How does it feel? Is it way too tight?” Dr. Kareem wasn’t looking at Ilya’s leg, she was looking at his face. Her hands were folded in her lap. She was letting him talk through it.

“It feels snug.” He didn’t elaborate further.

“Well, that is the goal. If your liner or socket is too loose, they’ll rub and cause blisters like a pair of shoes that fits wrong. May I?”

Ilya nodded as she reached for his leg. With gentle fingers, she poked and prodded around the top of the socket. It made Shane think of trying on skates as a kid with his mom, pushing on his toes and making him walk up and down the aisle in the store.

“Everything looks okay so far,” Kareem said softly. “If you’re ready, I think it’s time to try to stand and put pressure on it.”

Ilya took a deep breath and nodded. He braced his hands on the edge of the table he was sitting on. He looked like you snapped a picture of someone pushing themselves off in a rush. A picture, because he was frozen. He was staring at his legs, but he wasn’t moving.

Shane’s heart was caught in his throat. He pushed the soles of his own feet into the ground hard to keep from moving.

Finally, Ilya pushed off the table. He came down on his right leg first, then slowly brought the foot of the prosthetic to the floor. Shane was almost shocked that he wasn’t immediately lopsided; the prosthetic just looked so much shorter than how he envisioned Ilya’s leg.

“How much of your weight would you say you have on your left leg,” Dr. Kareem asked Ilya as her eyes darted quickly to assess his posture.

“Maybe 30 percent,” Ilya said with slightly gritted teeth.

“Are you hurting? You can sit back down,” Shane said quickly. Ilya’s eyes flashed.

“No.”

“Shane’s right, it’s always okay to take a break,” Dr. Kareem said quickly. “But it’s okay if you’re just trying to get used to the sensation. Your back and hips haven’t had any weight on that side of your body in weeks. It’s a shock to the system.”

Ilya closed his eyes and slowly lifted his hands off the table behind him. Shane watched as he swayed slowly to the side to evenly distribute his weight. His jaw stayed clenched but he looked like he was trying to hold his face neutrally. Shane regretted saying anything. It felt like he was being locked out.

“How does it feel?” Dr. Kareem had her hands outstretched slightly like she was braced to catch.

“Weird.”

She nodded. “That’s expected. Do you feel any sharp pain anywhere?”

“No, nothing sharp,” Ilya said.

“That’s good. We’ll hold stationary like this for a few minutes before we try any movement.”

Dr. Kareem asked a few more questions but mostly allowed Ilya to pass the time in quiet. Slowly, he seemed to relax a little into the posture. He shifted from side to side experimentally and his face only pinched in pain once or twice.

A physical therapist from the office joined at that point. Shane didn’t catch his name but watched intently as he described to Ilya how he would shift his weight to move with the prosthetic. The joints on this model were simple, so it would be best to stick with strictly forward motion for now. He should try to keep his gait as even as possible but he’d need to move slower than he thinks he does. It would be disorienting to not have the feedback of the foot hitting the floor instantly, he could take a break whenever he wanted.

“Should I take small steps?”

The PT smiled. “Yeah, for now. If you’re feeling good maybe we can experiment with it.”

Shane narrowed his eyes. He took in the physical therapist again. He was probably a few years younger than them. His dark hair was wavy, his skin was incredibly tanned for the middle of winter in Ottawa, and his jaw could probably cut glass. He was shorter than Ilya and Shane both but he had the build of someone who had been an athlete.

“Promise to catch me if I fall,” Ilya said a little breathlessly.

“There won’t be any of that on my watch, trust me.”

It was Shane’s turn to grit his teeth. He was grateful they both were turned to face away from him.

Slowly, slowly, Ilya began to take steps. The PT walked with him, watching each step like a hawk. His hands didn’t hover but he was clearly braced to step in if necessary.

That’s about when Ilya’s mood began to take a turn for the worse. He took small shuffling steps across the flatweave gray carpet. He was picking his left leg up higher than he typically would while walking and the effort was strained immediately.

He made it five feet to the chair that Dr. Kareem had set up across from the table he’d started at.

“That’s good Ilya. Take some deep breaths, and we’ll try it again,” Dr. Kareem said. Ilya’s eye twitched.

“How far do I have to walk today?”

“We can stop at any time,” she said carefully. “But to truly evaluate the socket, we’d like to see you spend at least another twenty minutes with the prosthetic on.”

Ilya scowled. “I will walk. Just give me a moment.”

The therapist gestured to the chair but Ilya held his hand out firmly and remained standing. After a long, quiet forty-five seconds, he began to shuffle back towards the table. As he moved this direction, Shane had a good look at his face.

Ilya was deep in concentration. He’d seen this look before on the ice. When they worked out together during the summers and he tried out new tricks or movements. He was putting all of his thought into the coordination of his body. Another look was growing that Shane had also seen before. Frustration.

When the puck didn’t move off the stick the way Ilya had expected or the ice was catching wrong under his blades, Ilya’s face didn’t hide the anger. Mostly at himself, but Shane had seen it taken out on the puck or stick or groove in the ice that he’d deemed responsible.

Ilya was frustrated with the leg. With himself. This time, Shane didn’t have any pointers to help or a way to try to do it himself and prove to Ilya that he also struggled with a move. He was just stuck watching and waiting for the frustration to boil over into something else.

Ilya made the trip between the table and the chair two more times before he finally sat down. He leaned forward to brace his elbow on his right knee and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“I feel like I can feel my foot but it is not the one hitting the ground,” he said finally.

“It takes a lot of practice to rewire the brain to accept the prosthetic as normal,” nameless PT man said. Ilya just grunted, which did loosen something in Shane’s stomach.

“You’re doing great today, Ilya,” Dr. Kareem supplied. “It’s hard to move in the diagnostic limbs but you’re managing decently.”

Ilya scoffed at that.

“I’ve taken some notes on your gait and what might be important to focus on when you start with your temporary prosthetic. If you’re feeling up to it, you can stand and we can get some measurements on how your hips are sitting and then we can talk about fit and what changes we might need to make.”

Ilya did okay once there was a plan in place. They determined that the next prosthetic probably needed to be just a little bit longer so he wasn’t lopsided. After some serious prompting, Ilya finally admitted there was a weird pressure point on the front of the socket that wasn’t fully conformed to his leg. Dr. Kareem dutifully noted down everything and began to explain the next steps.

“You’ll probably be sore after today,” she said simply. “It’s a lot of stress on the body. Do some of the same physical therapy you’ve been doing for the next few days and then you can really start to focus on some hip flexor and back exercises. You’ll also want to make sure you’re keeping your core strong for balance.”

Ilya’s eyes started to glaze over, but Shane was here. He pulled out his phone to take notes.

“It’ll probably be at least another three weeks before your temporary prosthetic is ready to be used. We’ll have an appointment before then to talk about how your PT routine will change and build a use schedule to ease you into it.”

“Thank you,” Shane said when Ilya didn’t respond. “You’ve been so helpful.”

Kareem smiled. “Of course. Please let me know if you have any issues or if the discomfort from today lasts longer than twenty-four hours.”

The PT gives Ilya some instructions on a stretch to try tonight. Shane can’t really help himself when he steps up to Ilya’s side with the crutches and keeps a hand on Ilya’s back as he balances himself to stand.

“Let’s get you your treat,” Shane said jokingly as they left the office.

“No, I want to go home.” Ilya threw his crutches into the car and slunk into the passenger seat.

Shane took a deep breath and tapped his hip a few times before he got into the car to drive them back to Ilya’s house.

Chapter End Notes

gonna be honest guys, not sure how i feel about this one. not sure if that's from a quality of writing perspective or if it's just a little hard to sit with the feelings of the chapter. here's to hoping it's the latter.

all that being said, thanks for your continued support of this circus. it really does mean a lot. i'm unhinged-ceramic-frog on tumblr if you ever want to chat.

Chapter 13

Chapter Notes

It was the first week of March and Shane was on the road. They were doing a home and home with Philadelphia and the away game was first. At the beginning of the season, he would have been completely unbothered by the prospect of playing in Philadelphia. In recent weeks, they’d been on fire, and were very likely to take an eastern conference wildcard spot. The goal was to win every game he played, but Shane really didn’t want to lose this one.

Most of the team was sitting in a conference room at the hotel waiting on the film session to start.

“The girls are already talking about their Halloween costumes for next year,” Hayden said with a sigh. “They’re insisting we start making them now but there’s no way they’ll fit or be interested in them by then.”

Shane shrugged. “So they have extra costumes. Won’t hurt anything.”

“Please don’t ever say that in front of my children,” Pike said with a scowl.

“Someone has to be on their side.”

“Jackie and I are outnumbered two to one!”

Shane laughed. “You got yourself into this mess man.”

Hayden looked like he had a way to protest that too when Shane’s phone rang. It was a facetime request from Ilya.

Shane frowned and stood up, eyes immediately scanning for a way to get out and take the call.

“Go to the room, I’ll cover if we start,” Hayden said easily. Shane gave him what he hoped was a thankful look and slipped out the door of the conference room. Only J.J. seemed to notice him leave at all.

Shane made it down the hallway and was keying into his room before he hit the button to accept the call. He was met with a close view of one of Ilya’s eyes.

“Hey, what’s up?” Shane asked. He was hesitant. Ilya normally asked before calling, especially in the middle of the day when Shane was likely with the team.

“Moya dusha, I have put on my new leg!”

Shane blinked. Ilya pulled the phone further from his face and flipped the camera around. He was standing in a large room full of exercise equipment and props. The wall in front of Ilya that the camera was pointed at was covered in mirrors. Shane could see the prosthetic clearly. It looked a little more refined than the diagnostic had been. It was mostly black metal and plastic, and one of Ilya’s tennis shoes was over the foot. Ilya looked stable, better balanced than he had at the diagnostic appointment.

When they’d gotten home that evening, Ilya had brushed off the questions about the fitting and timeline moving forward. He was antsy at dinner and spent most of the evening on the floor. He had been massaging his thigh when he thought no one was looking. Shane was looking the whole time.

“Wow, how long have you had it on?”

Ilya hummed. “About an hour. Dr. Kareem and Patrick say I must take it off soon but I wanted you to see.”

Shane watched as Ilya took a few steps forward towards the mirror. He was much, much steadier than he had been before. He was also incredibly concentrated. Shane could see the deep line between his eyebrows.

“How does it feel,” Shane asked quietly.

Ilya paused for several moments, considering. “Hard to control. More steps to think about than I guessed.”

“I’m glad you called me,” he admitted. As he sat on the bed of a hotel room several hundred kilometers away he felt the pang of missing a big moment like this. Ilya seemed like he was in a good mood but that could change in an instant. He wished he was there. He’d considered asking Ilya to schedule his big appointments for when he could be in Ottawa but that was absurd. The opportunities for free time dwindled at this point in the season. The entire team would be expected to buckle down and get serious leading into the playoffs, Shane included. He should be the most serious, leading the charge.

“Just wanted to brag,” Ilya said easily. Shane gave him a tense smile.

“I’ll try to make it home after my game in Montreal tomorrow,” Shane explained. “I’m sure you’ll be a pro by then.”

“I am only supposed to wear it in PT for now,” Ilya said with a frown. “Apparently, I have much more to learn about walking. But soon I can use at home.”

“I love you, Ilya.”

Ilya’s eyes scrunched up slightly. “I love you too, Shane. Good luck tonight.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you soon.”

Shane hung up the phone and gave himself thirty seconds to breath before he went back to the team to watch film.

They won 3-2 that night. Shane felt like he’d been run over by a cement truck and he was fighting to stay awake by the time they’d made it back to the hotel. They’d stay in Philadelphia for the night and leave for Montreal early the next morning. While Shane normally preferred to sleep at home during a home and home, he wasn’t sure he would’ve been able to stay awake long enough to manage to get home that night.

Still, there was something eating at him. Hayden was in the bathroom brushing his teeth when Shane curled up on his bed and dialed his dad’s number.

David picked up immediately. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Hey dad,” Shane said softly.

“Is anything wrong, son?” Concern had flooded his voice. He was still calm but braced for something horrible.

“No, I’m okay,” Shane said. “Just tired.”

David let out a quiet breath. “You played a hard game. You should probably be getting some sleep.”

He heard murmuring on the other end of the line. His mom, moving around and talking somewhere nearby. “I just wanted to know how he did today. After his appointment.”

“Shane, he’s doing fine. Dinner was good, he called Svetlana. We watched your game. Everything was normal.”

Shane let his head fall back onto the headboard behind him. “That sounds great.”

Shane could hear the sad smile in his dad’s voice. “He’s doing okay, Shane. He misses you, and some days are hard, but today wasn’t one of them.”

“After his last appointment, I was just worried-“

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I understand.”

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Anytime. Get some sleep, Shane. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I thought you would drive in the morning,” Ilya said when he opened the front door for Shane the next night. The game had been in the midafternoon, so it wasn’t even that late. Shane was still exhausted. He’d almost pulled over on the road between Montreal and Ottawa.

“Wanted to sleep here,” he said as he pushed through the door. He went straight to the bedroom and dropped his bag in front of the closet. He then let himself fall face first onto the bed.

“Shane, dear, have you eaten?”

Whatever he said was muffled into the mattress.

“Okay, yes, we can sleep.” Ilya’s voice was soft and fond.

Ilya disappeared for a few minutes, presumably to turn off the lights in the house. Shane strained his ears for the click of the crutches echo through the hall. He pulled his shirt over his head and burrowed into the pillows as he heard them approaching again.

Ilya turned off the big light in the room, leaving only the soft glow of the lamp on his bedside table. Shane turned his head to watch as Ilya lowered himself to the bed and propped his crutches against the nightstand. He took care to turn himself and lay flat on his back.

They’d slept in the same bed every night Shane had been in Ottawa but the one time they’d fought. Still, they’d kept neatly to their sides of the bed. Ilya was so careful to sleep in a way that wouldn’t hurt his back or hip or put any weight or torque on the left side of his body. Shane was far too scared he’d touch Ilya’s leg wrong or be too pushy or heavy or move too much so he’d kept himself on the far side of the bed.

But that night he was tired. He’d played two incredibly long games in less than twenty-four hours. He felt bruised all over. And he missed Ilya so very badly.

So when Ilya laid down, Shane scooted closer and closer and laid his head on the right side of Ilya’s chest and slung his arm across his torso.

“This ‘kay?” He mumbled into Ilya’s shoulder.

“Yeah, is okay.” Ilya voice was soft. Slowly, he lifted his hand and put it on the back of Shane’s neck. After several still moments, he began to comb his fingers through Shane’s hair.

Shane hummed. It felt like the weight was sinking his body into Ilya and the bed. Maybe it was selfish but he didn’t ever want to move from exactly that spot.

He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or just close to it when he heard Ilya speak softly in his native tongue and press a kiss to the top of his head.

Shane woke up feeling more rested than he had in a long time. Neither of them had moved during the night and Ilya was still deeply asleep. Shane carefully pulled himself out of bed and pulled the covers up over Ilya before he slipped out to start on breakfast.

He found his mom in the kitchen.

“Hey honey, sorry we weren’t up when you made it home last night.”

“It’s okay, I crashed immediately,” he said as he opened the fridge. He began to pull out what he needed for omelets.

“You needed the sleep. You were really starting to slow down in the third period last night.”

“Mom,” he said sternly. Yuna raised her hands in defense.

“I just call it like I see it. And I know what it looks like when my son is tired.”

He sighed. “It’s just that point in the season. Everything is a grind, but it’s not the home stretch yet. I’ll make it through.”

Yuna reached out to hold his face in her hand, gently brushing her thumb over his cheekbone. “Of course you will. It’s just hard to watch sometimes.”

Even a few months ago, Shane would have thought he understood what she meant. He thought of watching Ilya play and how when you knew him you could see a million new tells when he was on the ice. How he held himself, how he skated, how he was holding his stick, what shots were landing. It was easy to read Ilya on the ice. Sure, it was hard when he knew Ilya was playing with a twinged shoulder or a bruised knee that had caught a puck. That was just part of the game.

Now he thought he was a little closer to understanding his mom and how worried she could get when she watched him play. When he was fourteen, he’d almost yelled at her for fussing and stepping in when he tried to play through an almost rolled ankle. It hurt but he could still skate. He’d played through worse. There was no reason to stop him.

The instinct made a little more sense now.

“Mom, thank you. For being here. For him, but also for me.” Shane swallowed. “You’ve always been so good at it. Being here and knowing what to do.”

Yuna laughed wetly as she pulled Shane into a hug. “It’s selfish, hon. I like being here because I can’t stand to be away.”

 “I can still thank you for that,” he said. She pulled back, kept her hands on his arms, back far enough to see his face and no further.

“I wish I could make everything easier for you.”

Shane could feel the tears starting to overflow and make their way down his cheeks. He sniffed and rubbed his eyes to disperse them.

“You could start by helping me cut peppers for these omelets?”

One side of her mouth quirked up. “It’s a good a start as any.”

David joined them not longer after and started a pot of coffee. Either he had a sixth sense for circadian rhythms or Ilya had caught the aroma of breakfast. Either way, David was setting down a third coffee cup full of too much creamer to maybe even be considered coffee anymore when Ilya came into the kitchen.

Shane hadn’t even really noticed them before but he could see now that the bags under Ilya’s eyes were just a little less pronounced. His cheeks were a little gaunt but they were pink. His hands gripped the crutches hard but his shoulders were relaxed.

“Good morning, Hollanders,” he said as he shifted into a seat at the dining table where he could turn and still see everyone standing at the counters.

“Good morning, Ilya,” Yuna said as she carried forks and napkins to the table. She reached out to squeeze his shoulder as she passed. Shane’s heart swelled at the easy intimate touch. Over the last month, Ilya had spent so much time with his parents. It felt horrible to see any bright side in the situation but he was glad that they’d gotten closer.

“Are you ready for Miranda this morning,” David asked as he helped Shane carry the omelets to the table.

“Miranda is not ready for me,” Ilya declared as he sipped his coffee David had also wordlessly carried over.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Yuna tsked. “She’s been waiting for this too. I think you’re in for a tough one today.”

Ilya huffed. “I am ready.”

Miranda showed up not longer after they finished breakfast. They disappeared into the home gym to do their session with a warning that it would probably be a little longer than usual today. For now, all of Ilya’s time with his prosthetic would be during appointments until he built up enough strength and good habits to begin to use it day to day on his own.

Shane tried not to hover. He did the breakfast dishes, he tidied the living room, he even started a load of laundry. Through this, he continued to drift in front of the door to the gym. He told himself he wasn’t listening but it was hard not to notice when the voices inside were slightly raised or some piece of equipment rattled.

After about an hour and a half, Miranda opened the door to the gym and grinned. “It’s time for show and tell.”

The Hollanders dutifully entered the gym. She had set up a pair of wooden bars that looked a little like what you would see in a dance studio. Ilya stood on one end, across from the Hollanders. Slowly, gently, with his hands on the rails, he moved between them to walk towards the family. Sometimes he held onto the bars a little tighter and took a moment to pause and breathe. His steps were careful and his strides weren’t that long but even Shane could see that he was shifting his weight back and forth between his legs smoothly. Just very, very slowly.

“Soon I will be expert,” Ilya said when he reached the end of the bars. He looked up and caught Shane’s eyes. “I can teach baby Pike when she is ready.”

Shane let his head fall back as he laughed. “I’m sure Hayden will be thrilled.”

“He will hate it,” Ilya said with a grin.

After another trip down the length of the bars Miranda declared they were done for the day. Ilya sat down and began the process of taking off his prosthetic and his stump sock. Miranda made a quick check of his leg and seemed to take a few notes before she left with a promise of being back the next morning.

David and Yuna made their way out behind her. Shane stayed to watch Ilya begin to gently message his leg.

“You’ve already gotten a lot better,” Shane said carefully.

Ilya hummed. “Yes. I take practice seriously.”

“It looks like you’re concentrating hard.”

Ilya’s gaze sharpened slightly. “Yes. It is like I can feel my real leg still but it is not there and I am moving a leg that I can’t feel. It gets tangled.”

“How-“

“Shane.” Ilya fixed him with a look before he went back to massaging his leg. “I do not have the words for it right now.”

“Yeah, of course. I love you.”

“I love you too, Shane.”

The rest of the day passed like most of the days Shane was in Ottawa. Ilya was a little more worn out, and took a nap mid-afternoon, but he more than deserved it after his efforts in physical therapy. The Hollanders made dinner together and ate at the table while Ilya told them a Russian fairytale fragmented between bites of his pasta. David and Yuna turned in for the night shortly after the dishes were cleared from the table.

Ilya and Shane settled in on opposites ends of the couch, legs stretched out towards each other.

“My appointments with Galina have been going well,” Ilya said as they sat scrolling on their phones. Shane looked up. Ilya’s voice was so very carefully casual. He tried to keep his fac neutral but his jaw was too tight and his eyes were locked on the screen.

“I’m really glad you’ve been seeing her.”

Ilya glanced up and back down. “David reminded me that it is good to return to normal routine.”

Shane’s heart clenched. Bless his sweet, sweet father. “Well, he’s not wrong about that.”

“Galina thinks so too,” Ilya said with a soft exhale that sounded almost like a laugh.

“Is there anything you want to tell me? About your sessions?” Shane wanted to be careful. He had no right to demand to hear what Ilya had told his therapist. He didn’t even want to. He did want Ilya to talk to him about something. If he moved too fast or pushed too hard, Ilya would spook.

“I am trying to get better at identifying the hard days.” Ilya swallowed. “And letting people know about them.”

Shane nodded slowly. “Have you had many hard days, recently?”

Ilya thought for a moment. “Not days. Some moments. Going to bed is hard,” he admitted.

“Is there anything I could do to help,” Shane asked.

“No. Maybe,” he amended. “Maybe I will try to check in before bed more.”

“Of course. And if it doesn’t help, we can work something out.” Shane’s gears turned immediately on how hew could orchestrate time with Ilya in the evenings. What would help him feel more relaxed and supported. It would be hard when he was on the road but certainly not impossible.

“Thank you,” Ilya said.

“Of course.” It was reflexive. There was no world in which Shane wouldn’t do these things for Ilya. It was unfathomable.

Ilya’s face grew more serious. “Still, when there are hard days. Is not your fault.”

Shane pressed his eyes closed. He didn’t know how to handle this.

“I know. I just want to help always.”

“You do, lyubimyy. You help.”

They talked softly until Ilya was struggling to keep his eyes open. He didn’t even protest when Shane helped him up from the couch and kept a hand at the small of his back as he crutched to the bedroom. It was because Shane couldn’t stand to not be touching him, not because he thought he’d fall. Shane slept tucked into Ilya’s side and snoozed his alarm twice the next morning before he went back to Montreal.

Chapter End Notes

selfishly, really needed ilya to be having a slightly better time this chapter. certainly not out of the angst woods but dealing with injury and disability is so so so not linear and the process never really ends. the good days do happen. i can't pretend they're not there to maximize angst (i have no need to maximize the angst i have other fics for that)

i only have the vaguest idea of the timeline please don’t look too closely or think about it too hard. when the date is important i'll tell you and otherwise. it's just Vibes

your comments have been such a big boost lately and have made it possible to keep up the drive for writing while i've been super busy. can't say often enough, thank you so much for your support!

Chapter 14

Chapter Notes

be mindful with this one. big feelings.

Shane was doing press for a completely unremarkable home game against the St. Louis Notes. He expected to be able to do the conference on autopilot. At worst, they might ask about whether he believed the rumors that the Notes would be trading for a legacy MHL player who wasn’t producing many wins for the Canadian team he currently played for. The dude was an asshole, but Shane had prepped a canned answer about not knowing anything about the movement of players outside Montreal.

He was not ready to answer questions about Ilya.

“Shane, there hasn’t been any word from the Irina Foundation since the Ottawa plane crash. There’s really been no news about Ilya Rozanov at all since the Centaurs have returned. Have you been in contact with Ilya?”

Shane was dumbfounded. The Foundation had been the very last thing on his mind for months now. He vaguely remembered his mom saying they would take the prospective camp dates off the website until things settled a bit but they hadn’t discussed it again. More importantly, he hadn’t talked with Ilya at all about what to say to the press about him.

“Yes, Rozanov and I have been in touch,” Shane said. He fiddled with the microphone to give him a few more moments to think. “The Irina Foundation is still very important to both of us but everyone involved is in full support of Rozanov taking all the time he needs to focus on his recovery.”

“Is there anything you can tell us about Rozanov’s injury?”

Shane didn’t recognize the reporter who had asked it. He couldn’t help it when he frowned.

“No, I won’t comment on any player’s medical history. Especially not that of a friend I respect.”

A silence hung over the air for several moments. The conversation was closed. There would not be any more questions about Ilya that night.

There were a few more of the nothing, fluffy questions that Shane had expected before the reporters gave up. His response to the questions about Ilya had really sucked the life out of the press conference. He couldn’t bring himself to care when it meant he got to go home early.

He checked his phone in the locker room when he went back to pick up his bag.

I am respected friend now? I am honored.

He rolled his eyes but a smile crept onto his face. He tapped out a quick reply.

Sometimes I lie to the media to get them to stop asking questions.

His phone dinged with a response almost immediately.

I am wounded.

I won’t ever recover.

Shane stuffed his phone in his pocket and tried to school his face. Most of the team had cleared out already but there were still a few guys in the locker room.

“If you’re free after skate tomorrow, a grand tea party is being thrown and your presence has been requested,” Hayden said with an elbow nudge. “Jackie is convinced she’s found a cookie recipe that you’ll eat.”

“I seriously doubt that,” Shane said. “But I could definitely make an appearance at a tea party.”

Hayden grinned. “They’ll be so excited. Thank you, Shane.”

“Of course. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

In the time before the crash, Ilya and Shane had done a decently good job at splitting their time evenly between Montreal and Ottawa. Logistics often determined what city they decided to sleep in on a given night, with only a slight preference for Ottawa so Shane could see his parents. Now, Shane only stayed in his apartment if he had back to back days of commitments in Montreal.

The apartment looked the same. The décor was still up on the walls, it was just as clean, just as meticulously organized. It not longer felt lived in. The apartment served as a crash pad and a place to pack his bags and nothing more. He ached as he thought about Ilya’s house and turned on the lights in the empty apartment. He barely kept food in the fridge anymore. He ordered what he needed as he needed it and rarely more because most food would go bad by the time he spent he spent another night in Montreal. He sent his little robot vacuum around to clean when he remembered to and dusted occasionally.

The thought of continuing like that indefinitely was bleak and he did his best not to think of it when he went to sleep in a bed that felt too big.

“Uncle Shane!” Jade hollered as he opened the door. As soon as he was through the threshold he crouched down to receive hugs from the twins.

“Hello beautifuls,” he said as he smoothed a hand over Ruby’s hair. “How are you guys today?”

“Mom made us clean before you could come over,” Ruby said solemnly.

“She said you like things really really clean?” Jade said it like she had asked Shane if he as an alien.

Shane nodded. “Your mom is a smart woman, and right.” He stood up and smiled at Jackie as she rounded the corner with Amber in a sling on her chest.

“Hi Shane, I’m glad you could make it.” She gave him a side hug. “Hayden and Arthur are getting the cookies out of the oven.”

“We made normal cookies and then we made a special recipe just for you, Uncle Shane!”

Shane knew no matter what crazy recipe Jackie had found on the internet he’d be eating at least three of the cookies if the girls continued to look at him like that.

The twins talked a mile a minute about the menu and décor and costumes as they led him into the living room. Low and behold, a folding table with a frilly pink table cloth had been set up smack in the middle of the room, the couch scooted back a bit further than it normally was. Each spot was set with a plate that had little animal ears or feet as separate sections and a princess tea cup. Handmade signs designated spots. Shane’s was mostly red and blue scribbles with a very clear ‘S’. There was a small picture of Ariel on his teacup.

“Here, this is for you.” Ruby held out a crown and stack of bracelets. Shane accepted them graciously and began to put them on carefully. Jackie or Hayden must have been involved in the process of the bracelet making somehow because he doubted the girls would have made it big enough for his wrist on their own.

“Girls, will you help me get everything we need from the kitchen?” Jackie led the two girls off with a wink at Shane. He settled into his seat and admired the set up. There really was a lot of attention to detail for the tea party of a couple of seven-year-olds.

“They really wanted to leave a seat for Ilya,” Hayden said softly. He set Arthur down next to some toys on the floor and took the seat across from Shane that had been marked for him with green glitter glue.

Shane swallowed around the lump in his throat. “That’s really sweet of them.”

“I think they just miss having a fellow kid around,” Hayden joked.

“Ha ha,” Shane deadpanned. “Very original today Hayd.”

Hayden’s face grew more serious. “How is he doing?”

“Okay,” Shane said with a sigh. “He’s using a prosthetic during physical therapy but needs a lot more practice and tolerance built up before he can wear it around the house.”

Hayden didn’t really have a response and Shane couldn’t blame him. It was hard to find words that felt appropriate. He was mostly just relieved have someone to tell. Hayden wasn’t going to make him talk about the big feelings and that was perfect.

“We’re ready!” The girls were loud considering how little their lungs were. Shane and Hayden sat back as Jackie, Jade, and Ruby emerged from the kitchen carrying trays. Jackie had the teapot and what Shane could only assume were cream and sugar. The girls were carrying little sandwiches and cookies. The twins set down their plates with a flourish and two little curtsies. Jackie set the tea in the center of the table before she took her own seat, her hand coming up to adjust Amber in her sling slightly.

“I have to admit something,” Shane said in a low voice. The twins looked at him with wide, expectant eyes. “I haven’t ever been to a tea party before.”

They guffawed loudly and practically fell out of their seats. “Never?”

“Never ever.”

“It’s not that hard,” Jade said seriously.

“But we can help teach you,” Ruby added.

They launched into an elaborate description of how they brewed the tea and what it was supposed to taste like and how he could add things until he liked how it tasted.

“Daddy says you have to hold our your pinky when you hold the cup but really you only do that if you want to.”

Shane nodded seriously. “I’ll try both ways.”

They continued to describe the sandwiches they’d made and the cookies they’d helped with and how to set the table and which order to use his forks. Shane didn’t really think they would be using any forks at all but it was a decent etiquette lesson anyways. Maybe Jackie had some serious ulterior motives to allowing such an elaborate tea party.

“Just be careful, the tea is hot,” Jade said finally.

“You guys really know a lot, thank you. I think I’m ready,” Shane said with a smile.

The girls asked Hayden to pour the tea. He took his part very seriously. Once everyone’s cups were filled, the adults helped pass around the sugar and cream and doctored the teas. Shane was pretty sure the girls’ cups were just milk with a dash of tea at this point but they seemed to be enjoying it. He realized as he sipped from the tiny teacup that he practically had to stick his pinky out because he couldn’t fit all his fingers onto the handle at once.

He was seriously enjoying himself. The twins rules the table but they were benevolent leaders. He and Jackie and Hayden were getting plenty of laughs out. At some point, Arthur crawled up into his lap and watched the proceedings with skepticism until Jackie suggested Shane give him a cookie. He was really into it after the cookie. Even the cookies that had been made specifically for Shane weren’t atrocious. He was shocked.

“I know you haven’t been to a tea party before but you’re doing great Uncle Shane,” Jade told him with an encouraging smile.

“Thanks, I had great teachers.”

The girls giggled and turned to their parents to ask a question as Shane felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He gently shifted Arthur in his lap to fish it out.

He frowned at his mom’s contact photo on the screen. “Hello?”

“Honey, are you done with practice?” Yuna’s voice was strained and frantic. Shane leaned a little further away from the table as if to hear her better.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“I think you need to come home.”

His heart rated spiked. Shane stood up from his seat but kept an arm around Arthur absentmindedly. He balanced the toddler on his hip as he stepped away from the table into the entryway.

“What happened? Is everyone okay?” Logically, he knew that if it was something really serious, she wouldn’t have left room for argument. She would have told him he needed to get back to Ottawa as soon as possible. Somehow, this weird middle ground felt more ominous.

“Ilya fell in physical therapy today,” she said quickly. “Everything is okay! He didn’t get hurt too badly. But I think it really shook him up and. And it seems like it’s getting worse and not better.”

Shane hadn’t ever heard his mom talk like that. She was just so clearly distressed and more frantic than normal.

“What is he doing now,” Shane asked as he walked back into the living room. The twins were still talking to Hayden with wide sweeping hand motions. Jackie looked concerned. Shane passed Arthur off to her.

“Dad is with him. I don’t think they’re doing much of anything but they’re together.”

“Okay, good. Good, I’ll be there soon.” Shane went back to the entryway and shoved the phone between his cheek and shoulder so he could bend over to put his shoes on. Jackie followed wordlessly.

“Don’t speed. I’ll call again if I need to.”

“Thanks Mom. Please,” his voice cracked. He had to swallow and close his eyes. “Please keep him safe.”

Jackie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is everything okay?”

Shane continued to tie his shoe. “I guess he fell in PT today and things, uh. Aren’t going well.” He blinked hard to try to keep the tears out of his eyes.

“Oh Shane, go. Let us know if you need anything.”

“Let me say goodbye first,” Shane whispered. Jackie gave him a small smile and a nod and moved out of the way so he could get back to the living room.

“Uncle Shane, who was that?”

“My mom,” Shane said. He took a deep breath in an attempt to get his voice under control. “She needs my help, so I’m going to see here. I’m sorry I have to leave the tea party early, but I had so much fun. Thank you for having me.”

Hayden’s brows furrowed as he watched Shane give the girls hugs. He straightened and turned to Jackie to give her shoulder a squeeze and drop a kiss to the top of Arthur’s head.

“I’ll try to come over again soon.”

The kids wished him goodbye in a chorus of tiny voices. He waved from his car in the driveway and tried not to notice the way Jackie gripped Hayden’s arm and leaned in to whisper into his ear. He couldn’t really afford to think about anything other than getting out of Montreal and what would be waiting for him in Ottawa.

Yuna was waiting for him on the front porch.

“Where are they?”

“In your room.” She grabbed at his arm as he went to move past her. “Shane, wait.”

“What, Mom?” He didn’t mean to be snappy but he’d had a two-hour car ride to catastrophize. He needed to see Ilya with his own eyes immediately.

“I know you’re scared. It’s okay. Remember to be calm.”

Shane nodded. He kissed her cheek before he moved into the house as a more controlled speed. Calm was hard. Relaxed was hard. He could be controlled.

He moved quietly through the living room and the hallway. The bedroom door was closed. His heart was in his throat when he knocked softly on the door.

“Come on in, son.”

David was sitting on the floor next to the bed. Shane’s forehead creased as he looked for Ilya. A quick sweep of the room gave him nothing. The bathroom door was closed, though, and he heard running water.

“Dad?”

“He’s been in the shower a while. I keep checking in on him from out here but he says he’s okay.”

Shane pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He just needed a second and he’d be able to get it together. To deal with whatever was on the other side of the door.

“Thank you for being here, Dad,” Shane said quietly. David looked concerned. He slowly pushed himself up to stand next to Shane.

“It’s nothing, son. I can wait outside but let me know if either of you need anything.”

Shane nodded and turned back to the bathroom door. Another breath. And another, for good measure.

“Ilya?” He knocked softly. No response. “Ilya, babe?”

A grunt. Nothing more.

Shane pushed the door open slightly. The air was thick with steam. The glass of the shower had clouded a little, but Shane could still see through. Ilya was sitting on the ground with his back to the tile wall opposite the shower head.

“Ilya, why are you on the floor?”

The shower chair he normally used was pushed to the side, half in and half out of the direct stream of water. Ilya tapped it with his big toe.

“Needed to sit.”

Shane frowned. That could be a whole other argument but he felt it probably wasn’t the best time to point out the chair was perfectly fine for sitting.

“Can you get up?”

Ilya turned to look at him with blank, glassy eyes. “Haven’t tried.” His accent was thick and his voice was low and rumbly. The lights were on but Shane couldn’t really tell if anyone was home. If Ilya was really there. It happened sometimes. He left and went somewhere Shane couldn’t imagine, couldn’t follow. Sometimes he still responded to Shane’s voice and questions but others he was completely unresponsive.

“Do you want to get up?”

“No.”

There was no point in trying to make him. For one, it wasn’t hurting anything. It would be hard to remove him be force, with everything wet and slippery. Not a risk Shane was willing to take, especially if Ilya had already fallen once today.

So he sat down outside the glass door of the shower and looked. There was a faint bruise blooming on Ilya’s cheek, like he had hit something on the way down. The scar on his left leg looked red and angry but Shane couldn’t really tell if that was from the fall or Ilya scratching at it or just the hot water of the shower. He realized with a jolt that it was a bit odd for Ilya to be completely naked in front of him and he was fully clothed but that wasn’t a helpful thought. Just a note of something different than usual. Even though he wasn’t really sure what was usual was anymore, he thought bitterly.

“You do not need to babysit me,” Ilya said finally. Shane met his eyes again. He seemed to be there.

“Not babysitting. Just sitting.”

Ilya frowned. “Seems like babysitting when you come all this way to watch me. Make sure I don’t hurt myself.”

Shane jolted. “And would you? If I wasn’t?”

Ilya looked tired. He slumped further against the tile. “I don’t think so. I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m here.” Shane couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was like all the air had left the room.

“Is okay, I will be okay. Just give me a minute.”

“Ilya,” Shane breathed. “It’s okay. No one needs to go anywhere. We can sit if you want to sit.”

Ilya closed his eyes and tipped his head back slightly. Shane could see his pulse thrumming, hard, in the veins in his neck.

“I feel bad. That I make everyone worry.”

Shane pressed his nails into the palms of his hands. “We worry because we care.”

“Sometimes I feel you should not.” Ilya opened his eyes to meet Shane’s again. For several long moments, they were quiet. The only sound in the room was the water hitting the floor of the shower.

“You can’t stop us now,” Shane said finally. “Care so much. Not ever leaving.”

Ilya made a sound like the air was punched out of his lungs. “I want to promise to not leave.” The rest was left hanging, unsaid. But he couldn’t promise that.

Shane’s eyes were stinging. He absolutely couldn’t cry right now. He was not the focus of this conversation.

“We can work one day at a time. You can promise to come to bed with me tonight.”

Ilya nodded slowly and looked away. Like the eye contact was burning. “I can do that I think.”

Shane pressed his lips together in a grave smile. “Well, you’re going to need help getting up. Just let me know when. I’ll be right here until you’re ready.”

They sat on the floor of the bathroom, separated by the glass door of the shower for twelve more minutes. Finally, Shane could tell the water was starting to run a little cool.

“I am sorry I cannot do by myself,” Ilya said slowly as Shane slung Ilya’s arm over his shoulder to pull him upright.

“No sorries,” Shane said shortly. He wrapped on arm around Ilya’s wait and gripped, hard. The wet skin under his hands was warm and pliant.

“I am,” Ilya said firmly. He gripped the sleeve of Shane’s t-shirt as they moved over the threshold of the shower. Shane pulled over the folding chair they’d set up in the bathroom and flung a towel over it. Slowly, they lowered Ilya to the chair. Shane handed him another towel and watched wordlessly as Ilya slowly dried himself off.

“Dad, we’re gonna come out to get dressed,” Shane shouted through the door.

“I’ll be in the living room. Holler if you need,” David said. Shane heard the bedroom door shut softly.

“Your parents care so much.” Shane had to turn to make sure it was Ilya who had spoken. His voice sounded more broken than he’d maybe ever heard it.

“Of course they do. You’re so wonderful. And they’re good people.”

Ilya nodded with a huff. “Good people. I am glad.” Shane’s jaw stiffened as he thought about the Rozanov family. He didn’t have the bandwidth to even begin to think about Ilya’s family.

Once Ilya was dressed in comfy sweat shorts and a t-shirt that Shane was sure was once his, Ilya laid back on the bed and closed his eyes.

“Can we just lay here for a while?”

“Yeah, we can do that.”

Shane pulled the covers back and helped Ilya roll in. Shane laid on his back as Ilya moved to his front, his hand wrapped around Shane’s waist and his head rested on Shane’s arm. They stayed still long enough that Shane wasn’t really sure when they fell asleep.

Chapter End Notes

this is me coming out as a st louis blues fan, for better or for worse. if they sign one of the tfuck brothers I will lose my shit. we can now go back to our regularly scheduled use of hockey as a plot device.

the idea of shane hollander eating off a zoo pal plate is so important to me.

lots of really big feelings for the boys this time. next time, they'll actually have to talk about them. at least a little bit. they just can't keep getting away with mostly brushing it off.

Chapter 15

Chapter Notes

All things considered, they didn’t sleep that long. It still made a world of difference to Shane. He woke groggily when the door squeaked open. Shane blinked his eyes open to find Yuna’s face peering in at the doorway. She watched them for a few moments before she started to pull the door closed again.

“Mom, it’s okay,” Shane called softly.

“I’m making dinner. Just wanted to see if you had any input.”

“Pick a favorite. We’ll be down.” Ilya hadn’t even stirred at the sound of their voices. Yuna gave them both a fond look before she shut the door and padded down the hallway. Shane wrapped one of Ilya’s curls around his finger and closed his eyes again.

He would need to drive back to Montreal early the next morning. Really, all things considered, he should drive back that night so he could way up in his apartment and do his full game day routine. He already knew there was no way he would leave Ilya alone though. Sure, he wouldn’t be completely alone; his parents would be down the hall. Shane still couldn’t shake the look on Ilya’s face as he sat on the floor of the shower, completely unmoving.

“You are thinking loud,” Ilya whined. His face pressed hard into Shane’s chest.

“Sorry, babe. You can go back to sleep.”

Ilya sighed and rolled so he laid on his back. “No, no more sleep.” He rubbed at one eye as he yawned. He didn’t even look up at Shane’s frown. “I am fine, lyubimyy.”

“Fine by what standard,” Shane asked.

Ilya groaned. “I do not need more sleep. Fine awake.”

Shane hummed and pulled slightly at Ilya’s curls. “Forgive me for wanting to keep you safe and wrapped up in bed right now.”

Ilya let out a quick, pained breath. “Shane, I-“

“No,” Shane interrupted. “I am here because I want to be and because you had a day that sucks. It happens sometimes. You can tell me about it if you want, because I’m here and I want to support you.”

He made a face. “You still do not have to.”

“That’s part of it, Ilya.” Shane moved his hand so it was on the side of Ilya’s face. He thumbed at the spot where his ear met his jawline. “I don’t have to be but I still am because I want to be. You deserve that. You deserve to be wanted.”

Ilya pressed his eyes closed. “Stop that.”

“I don’t think I will.”

“It is my hard day,” Ilya pouted. “You have to treat me how I want.”

Shane laughed. “It doesn’t quite work like that.”

“You are changing your silly rules all the time,” he grumbled. There was no heat behind the words. Shane smiled down at him and leaned to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“We could stay in here all night. Mom would bring food in here if we asked,” Shane offered.

“No, I cannot.” Ilya shook his head slightly. “I need to apologize. I was asshole today.”

“They understand, you don’t need to say anything.”

“Then I want to. They deserve that.”

“Touché,” Shane chuckled softly. “See, you learn the rules to the game quickly. You just don’t like when they’re used against you.”

“Just give me five more minutes. Then we can go.” Ilya sighed and closed his eyes. He seemed to sink just a little further into the bed.

“Of course, babe. Whatever you need.”

Dinner was mostly normal. Yuna made udon noodles in a thick brother that warmed Shane to his core. Everyone talked softly like they were worn out from the day. Shane stayed firmly planted at the table as he watched Ilya find excuses to follow Yuna or David into the kitchen to talk to them one on one. They all didn’t acknowledge the fact that both of the Hollanders returned from their chats teary eyed. While Shane desperately wanted to know what Ilya had said to them, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not today. Maybe not ever.

“Are you leaving soon,” Ilya asked quietly when the table was being cleared.

“No, I’ll go back in the morning,” Shane said with a wave of his hand.

Ilya frowned. “Your game day will be off.”

“It’s okay,” Shane shrugged. “It’s a late game anyway, I have time.”

Ilya’s brow stayed creased but he didn’t push further. Shane was glad. He didn’t want to address the fact that he was just as scared of being alone as Ilya looked.

They called it a night early. Some Western Conference game was turned off in the middle of the second period, not interesting or important enough to warrant staying up to finish. Yuna kissed both of her boys’ foreheads and David squeezed their shoulders before they made their way to the guest bedroom.

“They are very nice for staying with me,” Ilya said as he crutched down the hallway to their room. Shane followed patiently behind. “Soon, I think I will tell them they can go home. I am very good with my crutches. We have rearranged lots of things so I can use them.”

Shane’s heart clenched. The idea of Ilya alone in the house was overwhelming. “They really don’t mind. It’s not like they’re all that far from home.”

“Exactly,” Ilya said. “They are close enough they can see me often and get here quick if needed. No reason for them to stay full time.”

“I’m sure they’re okay staying longer-“

“Shane.” Ilya stopped crutching just short of the door. “I love your parents. You know this. I just do not want to be with them all of the time. It is not personal.”

Shane sucked in a deep breath. If he wanted Ilya to talk to him, he would need to talk to. “I’m worried. If there’s not someone around to help or keep you company.”

Ilya’s eyes looked sad. Not quite resigned. “For a little while longer. But soon.”

“Thank you,” Shane whispered. They moved into the room and Shane sat on the bed while Ilya crutched into his closet.

“Anything for you, Shane Hollander.” Ilya’s voice was sweet and fond. The words scratched at something in Shane’s brain that made him uncomfortable, though.

“Okay, that’s laying it on a little thick,” he said with a nervous laugh. Ilya turned to give him a stern look. Something flashed in his eyes.

“You want to do this again?”

Shane backpedaled. “No, no, I was joking. I appreciate you, Ilya.”

Ilya’s face softened and he turned back to the closet. Shane watched his closely as he sat on the small stool that had been pulled into the large closet to pull off the sweats he’d been wearing and pull on shorts. He ditched the shirt entirely. His back muscles tensed as he leaned over to grab his crutches again and push himself up.

“You have a staring problem,” Ilya said finally as he crutched back to bed.

“Only with you.”

He laughed. “I do not think that’s true, lyubimyy, but I’m glad you think so.”

Shane blushed slightly. Maybe he needed to start paying attention to how long he was looking at one point while he was thinking.

“Go shower. I know you want to be clean. Then we can sleep.” Ilya already looked boneless, sprawled across the bed. Shane leaned over to give him a quick kiss, he couldn’t help it. Then he followed orders to a T.

Ilya didn’t stir when he got up in the morning. Shane pressed a kiss to his forehead, but couldn’t bring himself to wake him. It felt cruel when he looked more peaceful than he had in days. His parents also weren’t awake, but that was to be expected at five in the morning. He needed to get on the road and get home so he could manage breakfast and make it to morning skate on time.

Skate was fine. They were playing New Jersey. It would be a scrappy game, so they tried to keep the energy expenditure low and the attention to detail high. Shane was talking to Hayden in the locker room afterwards when he heard it.

“Does anyone know if St. Simon made it off IR for the Boston game tonight?”

“Dunno, maybe Cap can ask his respected friend.” There was a snarl in Drapeau’s voice that made Shane’s neck snap towards him. He was a few stalls away, peeling off his shell in the slow, methodical way most of the goalies Shane had ever known did.

“I think he’s playing,” Hayden said with maybe a bit more force than necessary. Shane wasn’t sure how Hayden could possibly know that or if he was just lying out of his ass.

Shane pressed his lips together as he continued to change. He’d gotten plenty of ribbing about Ilya over the years. Most of his teammates thought he really hated Ilya, as a player and as a person. It didn’t help that Ilya seemed to be extra ill behaved whenever he played the Metros over the years. When they’d started the Foundation, a couple of the guys had asked whether it was a publicity stunt their managers had set up. Shane had brushed them off.

He was still thinking about it and had started to chew on is lip as he went to the showers. As soon as he entered, Comeau gave him a quick glance and turned off the water. He grabbed a towel and left immediately, not even performing the perfunctory initial dry off before going back to the main room. Shane dug his teeth further into his lip. Something was wrong.

“Everything go okay yesterday?” Suddenly, Hayden was standing beside him. Shane blinked and went to turn on the shower.

“Yeah, as good as it could, I guess. He was pretty out of it when I got home but things got easier.”

Hayden hesitated. “I know Roz and I aren’t all that close,” he started. Shane gave him a sharp look. Hayden normally did so good not mentioning Ilya’s name. “But I just want to know if there’s anything me or Jacks could do. For him or for you. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“You guys are helping,” Shane said slowly. “You let me show up at your house and leave rudely and still invite me back. You’re doing plenty.”

“Okay, man. Just let me know if that changes.”

Shane nodded. “I will. Promise.”

They won against Jersey and went to play a game in Florida and then another in Toronto. They lost in Toronto, but they hadn’t gone in expecting to win. There was more than one guy on short term IR and the backup goalie was in. They were conserving energy and players. It was mid-March and they were only a few games away from clinching a playoff spot. A secured spot would give them a little bit of room to relax and rest for a grueling cup run. Still, they couldn’t fall too far in the standings if they wanted to be seeded well. It was a give and take, something Shane had to talk about with the coaching staff constantly.

On the way to the airport in Toronto, he was texting Ilya about his opinions on the backup goaltender. While Shane considered himself good at reading players, Ilya had a weird sixth sense for who was going to perform well under pressure.

“You have been glued to your phone recently,” Andropov said from the row across from Shane. “Have you finally found yourself a girl, Cap?”

Shane willed himself not to blush. “No, just some family stuff. Have to be available.”

He thought he heard someone snort behind him. He turned his head just a fraction but there were no further sounds or comments.

Andropov backed off immediately. “That is too bad. I hope everything is well.”

Shane gave him a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just stressful sometimes.”

“You going back to Ottawa lots then,” Olsson asked. “To deal with this family stuff?”

Something in Shane clamped down tight. He hadn’t told anyone other than Hayden that he was spending all his time driving back and forth between Montreal and Ottawa.

“A few times, yeah. My parents are still out there and I always try to see them when I can.”

He thought he was saying the right things but it felt a bit like drowning. He was taking on water way, way too fast.

“I keep him busy, too,” Hayden added. “Never found a better date night sitter than Uncle Shane.”

Andropov laughed. “Is Uncle Shane disciplined or a pushover?”

“Somewhere in the middle. I’ve got a soft spot for Arthur.” Shane convinced himself he didn’t hear another scoff.

“Son, I really think he’s going to be okay.” David’s hand was on his knee. They were sitting on the back porch and it was dark and the air was cold but being inside was suffocating.

“I can’t believe they already cleared him to drive.”

His dad gave him a small smile. “He’s doing a lot better. For all he jokes, he takes physical therapy really silly. He’s limited to automatics for now, yeah, but I think he’s perfectly capable of getting around on his own now.”

Shane scratched at his palms. It had only been a week and a half since Ilya had fallen in PT. A good week and a half was a statistical anomaly. There was no way to know if this would stick.

“Shane.” David’s voice was soft. “Mom and I will be close. We’ll still probably be here for dinner most nights. But if he wants us out of his space, and he’s doing okay, then we have to go.”

“What if something happens,” he whispered. His voice cracked as he continued. “What if something happens and no one is here and we don’t know.”

“We’ll still check on him, we’ll still see him. It’s not like Ilya will be isolated.” David squeezed the hand that was on his knee. “You can’t keep him in a perfectly controlled bubble forever.”

Shane squeezed his eyes shut. Took two deep breaths. “Yeah, I know.” He willed his voice to be less shaky. “Doesn’t make it less scary.”

David wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in. “It never stops being scary to let the people you love out into the world. But being independent and making choices for himself is a big part of recovery. It’s time.”

“I really hate it when you’re right,” Shane grumbled as he turned his head into his dad’s shoulder. They weren’t always touchy like this, but the comfort was undeniable. David was good at this.

“Your mom tells me that all the time too,” he laughed. It settled into a comforting silence. Shane wished he could see the stars better.

“Thank you, Dad.”

“Of course, son.” David softly kissed the top of his head. “Are you ready to go back in there? If we leave them alone for too long, they’ll start scheming.”

Ilya and Yuna were on opposite ends of the couch, talking softly. Ilya’s cheeks were still slightly flushed from when they’d yelled at each other over dinner. Yuna’s feet were tucked up underneath her and she held a mug of tea in one hand. Shane curled into a spot on the floor in front of her; her hand was in his hair almost immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Shane said. His voice was thick. “I know you’ve been doing really well lately. And I’m really glad. I’m scared of you being alone here but I respect your decision if you think you’re ready.”

Ilya watched him carefully. His jaw moved a few times before he began to speak. “I understand you are scared. If I did not do things you were scared of, I would not do many things. You and Mom and Dad will still be here lots. I will be okay.”

Yuna’s hand stilled in Shane’s hair slightly. Shane realized with a shock that it was the first time Ilya had referred to them as just Mom and Dad. Not his parents, just parents. It felt huge. Shane wished it was happening in literally any other moment.

“As long as you talk to Galina about it. And I get to text you lots.”

Ilya’s eyes softened to become a little less wary. “Of course, Shane. You can text me all you want.”

“Okay, who wants cheesecake? I think I nailed it this time.” David emerged from the kitchen with plates already in hand.

“You can still cook in my kitchen any time you want,” Ilya said with a smile as he accepted the sauce from David.

Shane felt endeared enough by the strawberry sauce that lingered at the corner of Ilya’s mouth that he ate a small slice himself.

Chapter End Notes

david hollander you are so important to me

probably last update until at least the 20th. going on a much needed vacation. might write while i'm at it but i'm making no promises and choosing to be conservative with my estimates. who knows, might fuck around and finally write the oneshot that's been rattling around in my brain for the last few weeks (i have exhibited SO much restraint in not dropping this to get that one out on paper).

thanks for all your love and support! it really does make me truly, truly happy to see your comments and thoughts.

Chapter 16

Chapter Notes

“Dad made some weird chicken concoction for dinner. It was delicious.” Ilya’s voice came through the phone slightly echoed. Shane knew he was walking slowly up and down the length of the gym in his house in Ottawa. He’d been cleared for a few short sessions with his prosthetic at home each day and he was really pushing the limits of the definition of ‘few’ and ‘short’.

“You think everything he makes is delicious,” Shane pointed out. He swung his legs up onto the couch and tipped his head back to rest on the arm. Practice hadn’t technically been hard but he was exhausted. It was the end of a long travel week and a game in Montreal the next afternoon kept him from going to Ottawa. It sucked.

“It is all delicious,” Ilya insisted. “Even the healthy food he makes you.”

“Oh, you think it’s good?” Shane grinned. “You should try eating it more often.”

“Relatively! It’s relatively good!” Despite his protests, Shane could hear the smile in his voice.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Ilya huffed. Shane listened to him breathe as he continued to walk. He was getting faster and didn’t tire out near as quickly but it still took lots of effort. Shane was exhausted just watching him do it sometimes. He rubbed his palm up and down the length of his thigh as he thought about Ilya’s muscles tensed in precise movements.

“You are thinking too hard,” Ilya said finally.

Shane sputtered.

“Shhh, is okay. I just wish you would say sometimes.”

Shane closed his eyes and tried not to frown, even though Ilya couldn’t see him. “I’d never shut up if I told you everything I thought.”

“I like to listen.”

Shake let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, okay. Maybe not everything but I’ll try harder.”

“Thank you, moya dusha.”

The silence stretched for a few more moments before Shane decided where to start his train of thought. “There’s only three and a half more weeks of the regular season.”

“And then you will make a big impressive playoff run and I won’t get to see you at all, yes, yes.” Ilya sounded slightly breathless but Shane’s heart twinged at the tone of weary acceptance in Ilya’s voice. Sure, they’d endured long post-season runs before but this felt different. Shane felt off-kilter to be doing it alone.

“Well, yeah, I hope it’s long and I’m still playing in June. But I still want to see you.”

“There are no days off during a cup run, Shane. You know this. You have done this before.”

Shane fought the urge to whine. “That doesn’t mean I like it. Or that we have to do things the way we have before.”

Ilya took in a sharp breath. “I guess you are right.”

“I can see you during playoffs stuff,” Shane pushed. Ilya wasn’t necessarily disagreeing with him but he wanted to make sure they were absolutely on the same page.

“I could drive to Montreal. Stay in your apartment to be with you on the home games.”

Shane’s heart stuttered. He desperately wanted Ilya to be in his space. The idea of him driving still made him sick.

“You’ve been cleared to drive?” His voice sounded small even to his own ears.

“Yes, lyubimyy. As long as I have not taken pain meds.”

It made sense. You didn’t really need your left leg to drive an automatic car. When Ilya had sold most of his car collection upon moving to Ottawa, most of the manuals had disappeared. There were still a few but he certainly owned an automatic that he could drive. It still seemed awful.

“I’m sure Mom and Dad are going to come to the games. They could drive you up, even if they don’t stay in town for all of the series.”

“Shane.” Ilya’s voice was stern. He sounded like he had stopped moving and gained more control of his breath. “I can drive. I will drive. So I can have car if I need in Montreal.”

Shane thought, you could always use my car. But he didn’t voice it. Ilya was right. He could drive. It would be near impossible to try to stop him and it would only cause problems. “Of course, baby. I’m sorry I was worried.”

Ilya tsked. “Not sorry. Okay to be worried.”

“Maybe too worried.”

“Yes, okay. It happens.” Ilya sounded so casual. Moments like this tore Shane’s stomach to shreds. He felt sick that he was the one having such a hard time processing when Ilya seemed normal. It was so backwards he felt like screaming.

“Maybe practice driving around town before you try to make the trip to Montreal,” Shane offered weakly.

“Oh, yes! Harris invited me to his parents’ farm to pet dogs,” Ilya laughed. Shane heard shuffling through the phone and the echoing sound got a bit worse. Ilya was sitting down now to take his prosthetic off and transfer back to his crutches. The sounds were already familiar.

“Dogs? How many dogs do they have?”

“So many,” Ilya said with a wistful sigh. “They are softies, take in lots of strays. Foster sometimes, too, I think. Harris said plenty of puppies to pet and Chiron will be there too.”

Shane vaguely remembered the puppy the Centaurs social media manager had acquired to be a mascot of sorts. Ilya had been quite smitten.

“That sounds like it will be really fun,” Shane said. Ilya hummed.

“You can pet the dogs the next time you are here. It will make you feel better.”

Shane wasn’t really sure how petting a dog was supposed to make him feel better but he didn’t argue.

It was the point in the season where the number of home games left had become a very real finite number. Shane was grateful that the schedule had backloaded a stretch of home games at the end of the regular season. It was hard to suit up and play intense hockey in April. It was even harder to do it on the road, especially when your playoff spot was secured.

Shane got up and finished his normal pre-game routine. He went on a light run and ate breakfast and stretched extensively and sent a few texts to his parents and Ilya.

He made it to the rink early to get in a few laps and watch film. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Coach Theriault watching him from the bench as he warmed up was slightly out of the ordinary.

“Hollander.”

Shane skated up to the boards without hesitation. From rookie to seasoned veteran, the instinct to listen to Coach without hesitation hadn’t really ever changed.

“Yes, coach?” He put one hand on the boards and kept the other gripped tightly around his stick. While he knew, logically, that he was still on the ice in skates, it felt like his feet had turned to cinderblocks and he was hovering over the ocean ready to drop.

“I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page. Tonight is about winning a hockey game. Nothing else.” Theriault’s voice was cold and distant. Shane hadn’t ever really heard it any other way. He’d heard this speech before, too. It used to happen every time he played Ilya. Coach hadn’t necessarily been a fan of the league’s rivalry angle between the two of them. He was already put off when a whole team was considered good enough to be a rival; a single player was too far.

“Of course. The game plan is ready.” Shane adjusted his grip on his stick and met his coach’s eyes. They rarely pushed each other like this. There relationship worked much between when they stayed out of each other’s ways and communicated information efficiently and not in person.

Theriault’s gaze kept Shane pinned for a few seconds longer before he turned around to head back towards the locker room and his office. Shane felt a little deflated as he watched him go. This was not a game against Ilya or even a worthy adversary, it was Carolina. There was no reason for a big pep talk, especially this point in the season. Shane did his best to forget it happened and go back to his stretches.

Shane thought about it again when he was laid out flat on the ice. The breath has been punched from his lungs on impact and it took several long moments before his brain remembered how to fill his lungs again. He stared up at the rafters of the Bell Centre and thought about what Coach Theriault could possibly want in reminding him that hockey was a game and was more important than anything else. Shane was normally inclined to agree but the sensation of drowning from lack of oxygen made it hard to fully buy in.

“Hey man, you good? Do I need to help you up?” Hayden was there, crouching next to him on the ice. If he stayed down any longer, the medical team would come out. Shane really didn’t want to deal with that, especially when they were probably going to run him through the concussion protocol anyway.

“No, I’m good. Promise. Just need a sec.” Shane pushed himself up onto his elbows to prove that he was capable of movement. No medics rushed to his side. Hayden continued to hover, hands bracing to catch a tall, heavy many in full hockey gear the same way he waited to catch his toddler walking on edge of the porch.

He sat for a few more moments before he pushed himself to stand. Stick in hand, he made his way back to the bench to light applause from the crowd.

“Done being on your back, Hollander?” Comeau grumbled as Shane reached his spot on the bench. He glanced to his right but Comeau was staring at the ice, his chin rested on the blade of his stick.

Shane followed the medical staff below the bleachers to finish the concussion protocol willingly. They Beat Carolina 3-1.

“I went to the rink today.”

Shane’s head snapped up. He and Ilya were sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner. He’d gotten in from Montreal a little later than normal meal time but Ilya had waited and he had made Shane’s food and Shane felt exhausted but warm.

“Why?”

“To see the boys,” Ilya shrugged. His tone was carefully casual. Shane raised his eyebrows. “I needed to get out of the house. There was a practice. I……I wanted to smell the ice.”

Shane felt something in his chest tighten. “I’m sure they were happy to see you.”

Ilya gave a small, restrained smile. “Yes. Maybe too excited.”

“How was it? Watching practice?”

Ilya’s eyes darkened slightly. “Okay. I did not stay on the bench for long. Mostly spent time in the locker room when they were done.”

Shane reached across the table to squeeze Ilya’s hand. “And how are they doing?”

Ilya relaxed a bit. “Good. Might end up with decent draft sanding.” He bit his lip slightly before squaring his shoulders to Shane and raising his chin defiantly. “I think I will have them over to the house next weekend. For a cookout.”

Shane blinked. Rubber his eyes, blinked again. “That’s soon. Are you up for hosting?”

“Is not a crazy party,” Ilya said quickly. “Just food and the team. Plus, I am not doing much. I have time.”

Shane bit his lip. That weekend was going to be the last time Shane had two consecutive days to be in Ottawa. After that, any breaks in the schedule would be filled with recouping energy and studying for the next game. He very selfishly wanted to tell Ilya not to have the team over and to instead spend the entire weekend with him.

“I’m glad you’re excited to have the guys over again.”

“I want you to be there.” Ilya’s voice was quiet enough Shane thought he might have imagined it.

“Me?”

“Yes, Shane, you.”

Shane furrowed his eyebrows. “Why would you want me there?”

Ilya’s eyes darted away from Shane’s. He thought he saw a small shake in Ilya’s hands.

“I want you to get to spend time with them.  If you do not want to come that is okay.”

“Of course I want to come,” Shane said as he swallowed a lump in his throat. He almost believed the words. “I just thought maybe your team would want the moment to themselves.”

Ilya rolled his eyes. “Everyone else gets to bring their partner. You will not be stealing the moment by being in the house.”

Shane let out a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’d like to be there.”

The hesitation was worth Ilya’s smile. He squeezed Shane’s hand over the table and brushed his thumb over Shane’s knuckles.

“I think I can host a good party. Good enough that even you will have fun, Shane Hollander.”

“I guess we’ll see.”

Chapter End Notes

another chapter the feels a little bit weird but mostly it's because it's just. almost normal. almost normal life but not quite. these boys are trying so so very hard.

this is yet again a "i didn't think i would be posting today but the two stout beers i had at a social function had me really giggling and kicking my feet excited to get the ball rolling on this" situation.

that being said, i hope this was intelligible in any way because half of it was written a tad under the influence and the other half was written sleep deprived after my flight was cancelled so enjoy. tell me if anything is egregiously wrong but otherwise enjoy. thanks for all your love and support up to this point!

also also big congrats to the montreal victoire on the walter cup win. the videos of mpp and stacey are making me really emo.

i'm unhinged-ceramic-frog on tumbler.

Chapter 17

Chapter Notes

The next week went by in a blur. Shane got to spend a couple days in Ottawa before he had to be back in Montreal for a game and then on the road for the last away game of the season.  They’d have two more in Montreal to close out the regular season before the first round of playoffs. It felt good to have a light at the end of the tunnel. It also was good to know he’d get a few more games in his barn before he’d have to go through the grueling schedule of playoff hockey.

Once he got back from the last away game in Dallas, he began to make the dutiful drive to Ottawa.

I’m on my way.

Ilya’s response came twenty minutes down the road.

Perfect. Here is list for the store. Thank you.

Shane had agreed that on his way in, he’d stop at the store and get the last things Ilya needed for the party he’d host for the Centaurs the next day. It wasn’t a very long list, mostly the food that would be better fresh and a few odds and ends.

Ilya could have gotten it delivered or had David or Yuna bring it over, just like he did all of his normal groceries. When Ilya had been planning the deliver, Shane had wanted to help. He wanted to help far more than he would be able to in Montreal and in Dallas, so this was his concession. He would stay out of the planning if he could pick up the groceries.

It was a short trip at a store ten minutes from Ilya’s house. The people of Ottawa were desensitized to hockey players enough that there was no real risk of showing up to the grocery store, but Shane did pull on his team Canada hat he kept in his car for when he wanted to be incognito outside of Montreal. He learned early on that it made the attention worse if he was wearing Montreal gear in another city.

“Baby, I’m home!” Shane came in through the garage door into the kitchen, arms loaded down with reusable shopping bags.

“Ah, perfect. Thank you, lyubimyy.”

Shane’s head snapped up to watch Ilya walk into the kitchen. He was moving slowly and carefully, but his prosthetic was on and his crutches weren’t even in sight.

“I am getting cleared for longer sessions,” Ilya said simply as he continued to move to Shane’s side. Shane sucked in a harsh breath when Ilya’s hip bumped his as he started to help unloading the groceries.

When he was using crutches, there was a bubble around Ilya. Physically, he needed more space to move and stand and exist. Mentally, Shane had been far too worried to hit him or knock him off balance to get too close casually.

Shane was purely on autopilot when he continued to take the groceries out of the bags and move them to the correct spots in the fridge and cabinets. He stole glances at Ilya from the corner of his eye. Ilya only caught him once.

“Are you ready for tomorrow,” he finally asked with a swallow. He turned to lean against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes, everything is clean. Just need to set out food tomorrow. Very easy.” Ilya’s voice was casual and airy. Shane furrowed his brows slightly. Ilya was holding himself stiffly and not just for balance purposes.

“It will all be wonderful,” he said with a step forward. Ilya looked up at him with hesitation. Shane moved slowly, telegraphed every movement so Ilya could stop him or push him away if he wanted. He didn’t. Shane wrapped his arms gently around Ilya and laid his head on his chest. “Although the boys’ standards probably suck, you could have just fed them pizza rolls.”

Ilya let out a small laugh. “At end of season, probably, yes.”

“So they’ll think you’re actually the god of hosting. Nothing to worry about.” Shane pulled back a little so he could see Ilya’s face. Some of the worry had disappeared, but there was a tight line in his jaw.

“Ah, yes,” Ilya sighed. “They did not know me when I was Dionysus. I threw such good parties.”

Shane frowned. “Dionysus might be a little bit of a stretch.”

“No, no, I swear. Epic. Legendary. They still talk about them.”

Something squeezed in Shane’s chest. “Yeah, I’m sure they do.”

The next afternoon, the Centaurs and their partners started to trickle into Ilya’s house around noon. It was early April, so the weather still wasn’t great in Canada so Ilya had a whole contingency plan for moving the whole affair inside. However, the weather held and there were no clouds in the sky and the temp climbed all the way to 16C. Shane figured if the weather was going to bend to the will of anyone, it might as well be Ilya Rozanov.

Bood and Cassie were the first to arrive. There was a very small baby strapped to Cassie’s chest, and they both looked a tad tired but were all smiles.

“Cap, don’t take it personally, but I fully intend to commandeer your grill.”

Ilya grinned. “That was exactly the plan, thank you.”

Ilya had his prosthetic on. Shane was a bit worried that he would be off balance or pressured to move too fast with everyone around. He also knew that Ilya probably shouldn’t wear his prosthetic for the full duration of the team being over, but it seemed pointless to fight with Ilya about it. For now, he was moving slowly but with a purpose towards the kitchen and Bood walked with him like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Shane turned to Cassie with a small smile. “Please, come in. They’ll keep themselves occupied.”

Cassie chuckled as she followed Shane into the house. “I’m not worried about them in the slightest. I am glad you guys are doing this though.”

Shane felt some heat in his cheeks. “Really, it’s all Ilya. It was his idea and he planned everything. I’m just support.”

Cassie shot him a look. “You being here is enough. It certainly says something.”

Shane just nodded. He didn’t really have an answer to that. Finally, he said, “Glad we get to meet the little guy today. Is everything going okay?”

“Milo is the sweetest.” Cassie’s hand came up to cradle the back of the baby’s head through his sling. “He’s huge and eats a ton, but no one is really surprised. It’s been hard, with Bood on the road sometimes, but we’re making it work.”

“Hayden always felt so bad leaving Jackie at home when the kids were super little,” Shane said. “Hopefully, Bood makes up for it when he’s home.”

“Of course,” she snorted. “He does all the nighttime stuff when he’s here. Just a couple more weeks though.”

The Centaurs had a better season than they’d had in years. Even with a few weeks off and Ilya out, they’d settled into a decent rhythm. They were long out of playoff contention, but a few wins in their final stretch and they’d have a very handsome draft position on their hands. They even seemed poised to make good use of it.

Wyatt and Lisa arrived next, with Hazy also apparently signed up to help in the kitchen. Shane had questioned Ilya’s lack of preparation or desire for help, but it was nice to see the Centaurs leadership come together to work it out.

Haas and Holmberg rolled in next, then were promptly banished from the kitchen. They were more than happy to join the conversation in the living room that Shane had slowly been edging himself out of. Zane and Wyatt kept moving between the kitchen and the backyard to the grill, but Shane hadn’t seen Ilya emerge in quite some time.

He moved towards the kitchen slowly. Through the doorway, he could see Ilya sitting on a tall barstool he’d pulled around to be by the stove as he stirred a pot of what looked to be mac and cheese.

“Still don’t need any help?”

Ilya glanced over his shoulder at Shane and shook his head. “No, it is going good.”

Shane walked forward to press a kiss to Ilya’s shoulder. “Let me know if that changes.”

“Yes, Shane, I know,” he sighed. Then he darted his eyes towards Shane and his voice dropped as he said, “Thank you.”

“Mhmm. Of course.”

Hovering would make it worse, so Shane left the kitchen. Centaurs players and their wives and girlfriends were trickling in. Shane thought he even recognized one of the assistant coaches, Tidwell, talking to Young and Haas. He waited in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, unsure of how to insert himself into any conversion with Ilya’s teammates without him present.

“It’s good to see you here.” Shane turned. A woman had appeared in front of him, maybe forty, brown hair that had begun to streak with gray. She had bright eyes and prominent laugh lines and Shane was sure he hadn’t ever met her before.

“Uh, yeah. Schedules just worked out.” Shane pushed his hands into his pockets and glanced out at the room. There weren’t any obvious clues as to who this woman could be but it was worth a look.

She gave him a knowing look. “It took a lot more than not having a game to be here, Shane Hollander. We all know that. I’m Heather Wiebe.”

Shane’s shoulder relaxed a fraction. Wiebe. This must be coach’s wife. Ilya had mentioned her before, had said very good things. Across the board, the Centaurs’ partners seemed to be good people.

“People keep saying that,” he mumbled. “It really isn’t that big of a deal.”

He would have rather been hit in the head with a frying pan than receive the look that Heather gave him next. It was somewhere between exasperation, fondness, and pity.

“Well, then let me be glad you’re hosting a party. This team certainly needs it.”

“Heather, hon, I see you met Shane.” Brandon Wiebe appeared next to his wife with a plate of cookies in hand and a soft smile on his face. “I hope she wasn’t giving you a hard time.”

“No, of course not,” Shane said quickly. Heather’s lips pressed together as she tried to hide a smile. Brandon raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything before he pressed a kiss to his wife’s check and headed to the kitchen. Shane heard him great Ilya and laughs coming from both men.

“Ilya is worried the boys think of him differently now,” Heather said simply. She’d turned to face the kitchen and watch Ilya and her husband. Shane looked at her like she’d grown another head.

He simply didn’t know what to say in response to that.

“Brandon told me not to meddle but I think everyone involved needs a clear picture.” She turned her head and fixed Shane with a strong gaze. “Word on the street is there might be some movement within the organization during the off season. Ilya should decide how he wants to be a part of the team moving forward. It’s important that he knows everyone still values him.”

Shane fought to keep him jaw from physically dropping. “This all seems a bit speculative. And, uh, presumptuous.” Mostly, Shane was convinced he should not be hearing this. Ilya’s partner or not, he shouldn’t know the inner workings of another team. He didn’t want to know what people were thinking about Ilya or what decisions Ilya might have to make until he knew how seriously Ilya was taking it. Maybe Heather was even telling him more than Ilya knew, which made his skin crawl.

Heather smiled. “There’s nothing for you to do or say today, Shane Hollander. However, I think you should know what options are on the table.” She left him standing in the doorway and practically floated into the kitchen. She gave Ilya a little hug and moved around the counter, easily settling in to helping with some prep work Shane hadn’t even noticed. He swallowed a lump in his throat and decided he was better off trying to find somewhere quiet to observe than talk to any more people.

Shane was wiping down the kitchen counters when he heard the click of Ilya’s crutches moving towards the kitchen. He’d made it through the entire party on his prosthetic, but he’d taken plenty of breaks to sit and Shane could tell it was starting to bother him by the team they were seeing out the last guests. He’d disappeared soon after and Shane was glad that he’d switched to be more comfortable than trying to keep powering through.

“It was a good party,” Shane said softly. He didn’t need to turn to know Ilya was hovering a few feet behind him. His gaze was heavy on the back of Shane’s neck.

“Yes, very good for the guys. I did not see you much, though.” Ilya didn’t sound upset but he did sound serious. Shane cringed slightly.

“There were just a lot of people. I had to take breaks, sometimes.”

“Mhmmm. Does this have anything to do with Heather telling me she scared you shitless?”

Shane frowned. “I was not scared shitless.”

“Heather is a meddler,” Ilya chuckled. “Do not let her bother you too much.”

Shane dropped the rag in the sink and turned to face Ilya. “I’m not.”

Ilya raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times. “I think I know what you look like bothered.”

Shane scrunched up his nose and started to move. Ilya’s hand shot out to hold his upper arm and keep him in place. “It is not bad. I just do not want you to be freaked by anything. It was a good day.”

He let out a sigh and felt his shoulders sag. “You’re right, it was good.”

Shane had been incredibly worried that it wouldn’t be. He was worried that Ilya would be tired or grouchy or overwhelmed by the people. He was worried that his prosthetic would cause problems or he’d need to switch to his crutches and people would want to talk too much about the accident. None of that had happened but the worry had not left him.

“Wiebe mentioned something to me earlier, though.”

Shane tensed. Did he already know something he wasn’t supposed to know? Should he act surprised?

“Oh?”

“The league reached out to the team. They are going to ask if I will go to a game and promote limb loss and limb difference awareness month.” Ilya said the words slowly like he was careful to get them out right.

Shane blinked. “Oh? That seems like-“

“A lot,” Ilya finished. “They want me to drop the puck or something.” He scoffed. “I will not do this. But maybe I will go to game and they can say what they want.”

“Going to a game is a big step,” Shane said carefully. Ilya still had yet to leave the house for anything other than doctor’s appointments. Making an appearance at a game would be a huge statement and a lot of eyes on him.

“It is,” Ilya admitted. “But I talked to Wiebe, about this awareness month. It could be good for people to know.”

Something inside Shane bristled slightly at the idea of Ilya becoming the league’s new prize token for something to show off when it was convenient for them to have good press or sway the will of public opinion. He knew a little too well what that felt like and how little support was actually provided.

“I’m sure you have a lot to think about, but it could be nice.”

“I would do for Centaurs. Not for league. On my own terms,” Ilya said firmly. That made Shane smile.

“Of course. There’s really no other way.”

Together, they finished cleaning up the debris from the party and shut down the house for the night. Then, Shane followed Ilya to their room and they began the process of taking showers and getting ready for bed.

“Too bad we have played all Montreal games. It would be nice for you to be there,” Ilya said as he put lotion on his scars.

Shane bit his lip. “One of the home games this week. I don’t play that night.”

Ilya looked up, startled. “What are you saying, Shane?”

“I’m saying I could watch. Or be somewhere in the stadium where people might not see me. Be there for moral support.” Shane held his breath. It was risky. Risky to do, risky to offer. He felt fragile.

Ilya’s face softened. “That would be nice, lyubimyy.  Thank you.”

Shane took in a deep breath and gave Ilya a shaky smile. “Of course.”

They climbed into bed and Ilya settled in on his back, Shane pulled to his side. His hand was in Shane’s hair and the other was pulled across his body to rest on Shane’s side. Shane tried to focus on the sound of Ilya’s heartbeat under his ear and not on how he’d just offered to show up to a game he wasn’t playing in at a stadium that wasn’t his.

Chapter End Notes

so i was not able to fend off the demons and did indeed start writing the other brain worm fic (like i miss the rage available now!)

these boys are so fragile and are so trying to be Good and Normal.

thanks for reading along, appreciate all the love and support as always! i'm unhinged-ceramic-frog on tumblr

Chapter 18

Chapter Notes

Shane had to go back to Montreal to play a game on Wednesday and the last of the regular season on Saturday but Ottawa played at home on Thursday and Ilya had decided to go. Shane could hardly think straight when they beat Colorado 1-0 at home, he was so stressed about it. Ilya had only mentioned the plans off handedly, but he had seemed relieved when Shane had confirmed he was willing to go to the game and that alone was enough to keep Shane from backing out. As uncomfortable as he would be, there wasn’t a way he could see himself letting Ilya do something so big alone.

So on Thursday afternoon, long before the game started and the crowd arrived, but after Detroit had completed a early practice, Shane and Ilya arrived to the rink. The Centaurs players weren’t due to arrive for another hour and a half or so, but Ilya had wanted to talk to some of the staff and Shane was far too anxious to show up when people could see him walking into the stadium.

“I will tell Harris you are here,” Ilya said as they walked through the tunnels on the first level of the stadium. “He normally does not take pictures in the family room but I will make sure he does not tonight.”

“Thanks,” Shane said with a weak smile. They’d decided that was the best place for him to be. In the family room, he could talk to the other WAGs that would go to the game if he wanted to. It would also keep him out of view of the other team and all the spectators in the arena.

“Shane, you can go home if you do not want to be here,” Ilya said as they approached the room. He was still moving a little slow on his prosthetic leg, but his gait had greatly improved.

“No, no, I’m okay.” Shane took a deep breath. “Stressed, but okay. I just want things to go well for you.”

Ilya flashed him a lazy smile. “It is so easy. I go sit in box, smile at camera, let people see me. Much easier than hockey.”

Shane bit the inside of his cheek before he said that both of them would have much rather a hockey game than preening for the cameras. Maybe that hadn’t ever been true but now it wasn’t even possible.

“Text if you need anything,” Ilya said before he gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and turned back the way they had come, towards Coach Wiebe’s office.

Shane steeled himself to walk into the empty room. It was hours before the game would start and there was absolutely no reason for any of the players or their family members to be at the rink at that exact moment.

He had been inside Montreal’s family room a few times. Ottawa’s looked very similar but the space felt homier. There were low burgundy couches and black leather chairs throughout the room, along with several side tables of various heights next to them. A long black granite countertop ran the length of the back wall, presumably where food was put out. There was a fridge and standalone ice machine that made the small pebble ice and several TVs hung on the walls so the game could be viewed from anywhere in the room.

Shane saw a basket with a pile of blankets in the corner, a bin full of toys, notably several small plush Centaurs, and pictures of the team and their families were hanging on the walls. It made Shane a tad emotional to look around and see the wives and children of Ilya’s teammates, who he had met a few times off the ice now, and none of Ilya outside of group photos and one of him with a few small puppies on the locker room floor. He felt a pang when he realized Ilya’s photos would probably be taken down before he got a chance to have his own family showcased.

He passed the next few hours on one of the couches, reading on his phone and thinking about the last regular season game left. The outcome didn’t matter, because Montreal was in the playoffs and the team they were playing had been eliminated weeks ago, but there was no reason to go in and have a blowout. Shane would probably play a reduced number of shifts to keep fresh for the first round. He was still prepping like it was a season opener or the cup finals.

“Shane, I didn’t know you would be here!” Cassie Boodram and Lisa Wyatt were standing in the doorway, a grin spread across Cassie’s face.

“Here as moral support,” Shane said shyly. The women shed their jackets and took seats in the chairs and couches next to him.

Lisa raised her eyebrows. “Ilya is here tonight?”

Shane nodded. “The league wants to promote limb loss awareness month. He’ll just be in the stands but I’m sure he’ll get plenty of screen time.

“I’m very glad he decided to come,” Cassie said. Shane noticed she once again had her son, Milo, in a sling pressed close to her chest. Jackie had worn Arthur and Amber that way, especially when she needed to keep her hands free to deal with her older children, but they hadn’t been near as quiet or content as Milo. Shane genuinely hadn’t heard so much as a peep from the baby before.

“He thinks it will be good.”

“And what do you think,” Lisa asked carefully. Shane bit the inside of his cheek.

“I think maybe he’s pushing himself too far. But it is good for him to get out of the house.”

“It’s easy to take recovery too quickly,” Lisa said in a way that made Shane suddenly remember that she was a doctor. “It’s also important to remember that you can’t really know what a person is experiencing. If Ilya thinks he’s ready, he probably is.”

Shane fought the instinct to huff. Ilya always thought he was fine. He downplayed everything. The scariest moments of his recovery were when he had admitted that things were hard or not going well. It was so out of character that Shane had quietly spiraled in the bathroom every time it happened, terrified that something was truly, horrifically wrong. In hindsight, maybe he had overreacted. Only maybe.

“I’m just worried that this would be a very public stage for realizing he wasn’t ready.”

“He’ll be okay. Harris will make sure the stadium team knows not to broadcast anything that would be sensitive,” Cassie added.

“I hope so.”

“Just try to enjoy some hockey with us, Shane. You should be good at that,” Lisa said with a wink.

Shane actually didn’t have much experience casually watching hockey. Whenever he watched a game, it was to scout another team. To pick them apart before a game so he knew what was coming. He watched the playoff games every year after they’d been eliminated to see who made it to the cup, typically with his teammates. Otherwise, he was playing in the games. He hadn’t watched a game through a non-analytical lens in years.

It helped that he was surrounded by the wives and girlfriends who wanted to watch the game in the peace and quiet of the family room. A little. He felt a little uneasy with so many eyes on him, but most of them had just seen him in Ilya’s house. There were a few kids toddling around but they were pretty quiet and content. At this point in the season, these hockey kids were pros at mostly ignoring their dad’s or uncle’s game and playing with their friends.

Once the game actually started, Shane was reminded how different it was to watch game film and TV broadcasts or internal arena footage. During timeouts, game related or taken for officials or TV purposes, they cut to views of the crowd. Even in the small lulls of a dead puck, they found something to showcase off the ice, whether it was the crowd or the bench or any given set of announcers. It was a little overwhelming to have so much to think about and focus on, especially when Shane was braced for them to cut to Ilya.

There’d been a small glimpse of him in wide shots of the arena. Ilya was in the team owner’s box and he kept sending texts to Shane about how bougie it was. Shane kept telling him to get off his phone and watch the game or talk to the people with him but he wasn’t too upset that he kept receiving messages.

Halfway through the send period, when Ottawa was up 2-1 was the first time they really showed him in the stands. Shane leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, completely enraptured. Lisa reached over to a remote and turned the sound up on the screen that mirrored the jumbotron and played the in-stadiums announcements and sound.

“-Captain Ilya Rozanov here to tonight. The Centaurs are thrilled to have him in the barn.”

Ilya raised a hand and gave a small wave as he flashed a dazzling smile at the camera. Shane wasn’t even sure how he knew where to look, but that sort of thing did typically come naturally to him. Shane’s chest tightened.

Ilya was sitting down. He was wearing long pants. No one looking at him right now would have any idea what he had been through, what he was dealing with. He looked a little smaller, a little frailer than he had before but that was to a very trained eye. It was also incredibly relative, because Ilya Rozanov was still a big, broad-shouldered dude who had spent years exercising professionally.

Play resumed and the camera cut away but Shane’s heart was racing. Ilya had been in the stadium all night talking to people and being seen but this was different. This was being seen by the entire crowd, likely the home viewers. It would be on social media in minutes. Everyone who cared about hockey would know that Ilya Rozanov made his first public appearance since the crash by the next morning.

See, it is so easy. Just smile and wave.

Shane huffed when he read Ilya’s message. At least he still felt good about it.

Easy for you.

You can smile and wave too, I have seen you do it.

I mostly just wave. The smiling doesn’t always work.

Shane grimaced at the thought. Over the years, he learned it was better to not fake a smile when he didn’t have to. It often went horribly and he looked constipated or like someone was threatening him out of sight. He tried to find genuine reasons to smile when he was doing press or at events or doing ads but when that didn’t work, he pulled the strong stoic face. It usually worked.

“He has an easy gig if his whole job tonight is to sit there and look pretty,” Lisa commented as she turned the volume back down a tad.

Shane blushed slightly. “They asked him to drop the first puck for the game but he said no.”

Lisa laughed. “That’s for the best. I’ve seen him on his prosthetic, I don’t think he should get anywhere close to the ice yet.”

They continued to talk softly as the game progressed. At some point it was tied 2-2, then Ottawa scored again to bring it to 3-2. When the second period ended, Shane was a bit relieved. The Centaurs still looked like a solid team but their stamina was certainly a little lacking. As the game progressed, they were getting tired and more mistakes were made. Hopefully the intermission would allow them to rest up for the final period.

The in-stadium broadcast shifted to Ilya again. This time, they appeared to have a camera much closer to Ilya. Harris Drover, the Cens social media manager, was next to him, holding a microphone. Shane couldn’t tell where in the stadium they were.

“Ilya, I want to extend a warm welcome back from the entire Ottawa Centaurs organization, we have really missed having you here,” Harris said warmly. He seemed a little toned down from how he normally appeared in team content and videos but still lively.

“I am very glad to be back,” Ilya said with a quick close-lipped smile.

“Is it alright if we talk about why you’re back tonight?”

Shane sucked in a breath and held it. Ilya hadn’t discussed this part with him. Hadn’t said he was going to make any sort of statement. Maybe it hadn’t even been planned.

“Yes, of course.” Ilya smiled again and paused for a moment. “April is Limb Loss and Limb Difference Awareness month in US and Canada. It is good time to tell everyone why I have not returned to play.”

Harris waited as Ilya paused again. Shane could see his throat move as he swallowed and took a deep breath to start again. “I lost my leg in team plane crash. I wear prosthetic now. I use crutches. And I still love hockey. I am glad the Centaurs have been so caring while I have adjusted.”

Harris Drover’s eyes looked a bit misty, and Shane felt the same. “Thank you very much for sharing Ilya. We are all so glad you are still a part of this organization and that you have received the medical care you need.”

Ilya and Harris continued to speak, but the sound cut out and the camera pulled out just slightly. Just enough that later, when people were getting screenshots of this moment, you could see Ilya’s prosthetic between his pant leg and the shoe he’d put on the fake foot. The feed cut away to somewhere else in the stadium, some other event or interview or wide shot. Shane couldn’t really say what through his blurred field of vision.

There was a hand at his shoulder. He wiped at his eyes and turned to face Cassie, who had moved to the spot on the couch next to him.

“I’m glad you’re both here. You can stay for as long as you’d like.” Shane wasn’t sure if the Assistant Captain’s wife really had the authority to be saying things late that but she said it like she really meant it and that was enough for him.

Shane left the family room during the third period to go sit in his car and wait. He wanted to sit with Lisa and Cassie longer but the media would start to descend upon the lower level to catch post-game interviews and Shane didn’t want to get caught up in the crowds or the mess. So he went to the car and listened to the radio announcer play by play of the rest of the game. There were no more goals, so Ottawa won 3-2. He sent a text to Ilya that he was in the car waiting and clicked off his phone. He leaned forward against the steering wheel and tried to slow his heart rate.

“Tired?” Ilya opened the passenger side door and used the handle to pull himself up into the seat. It was a bit awkward to get into the passenger side with his left leg. Shane had watched him pick his thigh up and place it in the seat but he’d gained enough muscle control and strength to start lifting it up and over himself.

Shane picked up his head and gave a weak smile. “No, just a little overwhelmed. I didn’t realize Harris would interview you.”

Ilya shrugged as he buckled his seatbelt. “Hard to talk about why I was there without it. Did not want announcers to do it for me.”

“Of course, that makes sense.” Shane nodded and swallowed as he clicked his own seatbelt in place and started to reverse out of the parking spot. The drive home was calm and quiet, with Ilya recounting his stories from the game and who he talked to. Shane told him a little about the family room and Cassie and Lisa and how he enjoyed being there. He was surprised to hear himself say it but it was true. He wasn’t sure how many more times he’d ever get the chance to do something like it again.

When they got home, Ilya moved inside quietly and carefully and sat down at the foot of their bed to take off his prosthetic. He rubbed at his thigh for several moments before flopping backwards on the bed.

“How is your leg feeling, baby?”

Ilya grunted. “Okay.”

Shane frowned. “Just okay?”

Ilya shrugged. “Just a long day. Maybe wore it too long.” Before Shane could protest, he continued, “But it was worth it. And nothing too bad.”

“You sound exhausted,” Shane pointed out as he sat down gently next to Ilya. Ilya reached out until his hand rested on Shane’s hip.

“Easy to smile and wave out there. Here I am tired.”

Shane felt a pang of hurt. Like he wasn’t good enough for Ilya to feel good or smile.

Ilya must have seen it in his face. “Not like that, lyubimyy. Just that I need to smile out there. Here, it is okay to be tired. To let you know that it is hard day.”

Shane’s heart settled. “Of course, Ilya. I’m glad that you know you’re safe here.”

He was still in his outside clothes but he couldn’t resist it. He laid down on the bed and pulled Ilya’s head against his chest. Shane blinked back tears as he pressed a kiss to the top of Ilya’s head. Just because it had been a hard day but that didn’t mean it had been a bad one.

Shane drove back to Montreal Friday morning to make it to an afternoon practice. Hayden had suggested hanging out for dinner that night but Shane was so exhausted he couldn’t even come up with a good excuse or way to let Hayden down gently. It was just a no. Hayden didn’t push any further, and Shane knew that he probably understood, but it did still feel a bit gross.

The next morning, he went through his pre-game routine without interruption. He ate breakfast, went on a run, did some stretching, and ate again. He reviewed prep notes and game footage before really eating lunch and then made his way to the Bell Centre for an extended stretching and warm up period before the early afternoon game.

He’d been in the locker room, alone, for maybe forty-five minutes when the door swung open and Hayden appeared looking slightly disheveled.

“Shane, thank god you’re here.” He sounded completely out of breath, like he’d run from the parking garage.

Shane furrowed his brow. “Of course I’m here. What’s wrong, Hayd?”

Pike’s eyes flicked around the locker room as he walked to the shower area and peaked around the wall. Once he seemed assured that they were alone, he approached Shane slowly.

“Buddy, I’ve been getting some texts from some of the guys.” He sat down next to Shane, eyes wide and scared. “I’m not sure what happened or how they know, but some of them know about Rozanov.”

“Hey did a thing at the Ottawa game the other night,” Shane said with a sigh of relief. This he could explain. “Went to the game, talked about his leg. They’ve posted it on socials. Everyone knows now.”

Hayden grimaced. “That’s not what I meant. They, uh, they seem to know about you and Rozanov.”

His heart stuttered. “What?”

“I really don’t know.” Hayden was shaking his head. “Not a lot of details. Most of them aren’t even texting me, but there’s a few group chats and some of the guys who are a bit more on the fence have been sending me stuff.”

His blood rushed in his ears. If the Voyagers knew, it was because someone had told them. And if someone had told the Voyagers, they’d probably told the rest of the league too. The MLH was a small circle of players and staff and WAGs and most secrets didn’t stay all that secret for long. Things didn’t always break containment to the outside world but there was no way to stop them from spreading through the organization like wildfire.

“What are they saying?”

Hayden’s silence was deafening.

“Hayden, what are they saying?”

“I really don’t think you should look at it right now.”

Shane held out his hand for Hayden’s phone he’d been gripping tightly since he sat down. He clenched his teeth. “I have to know, Hayd.”

Hayden looked like he was on the verge of tears as he handed the phone over. Shane opened it easily, and scrolled through Hayden’s messages. A few direct texts from players, a few group chats. Lots of screenshots from other chats and one on one conversations. The Voyagers spread the news between themselves over the span of forty-five minutes that morning and had spent another hour completely imploding. From the messages, It was easy to see how people were aligning themselves by who was in what groups and responded to what. Hayden, as Shane’s best friend, had been excluded from lots, but as the A, he was looped in a few times.

It was abysmal. It was horrible. It was worse than Shane could have ever expected. Several threatened to not play that evening. A few more threatened much, much worse.

“I think I’m gonna be fucking sick,” he mumbled.

“Shane, I really think you should go home.”

Shane snapped his head towards Hayden. “No way. If I scratch this game, people will know something is up.”

“I’m worried about a lot more than a scratched game.” Hayden’s eyes were pleading. “Please, go home, we can figure everything out once everyone knows what’s going on and you have backup and everyone isn’t as angry.”

Shane shook his head. “There’s no way.”

There was a knock on the locker room door. It was for show, because Theriault came barging in half a second later.

“Hollander, get the fuck out of here. I will deal with you later. Pike, my office, now.” He left as quickly as he came.

Shane looked to Hayden, the feeling in his limbs slowly fading away. “What do I do?”

“Call your mom. Call your agent. Call Ilya. Go home, be safe. I’ll keep you updated.”

Shane noted that Hayden didn’t tell him everything would be okay. Even the eternal optimist Hayden Pike knew that this was not going to be okay.

Chapter End Notes

as someone with a left leg injury the passenger side car dilemma is very, very real.

whoops, angst time again? we knew this was coming. in this house we hate the voyagers/metros.

thanks for sticking along with me on this story! your support and comments are much appreciated. you can always find me on tumblr at unhinged-ceramic-frog inbetween updates.

Chapter 19

Chapter Notes

mind the tag updates! nothing huge, just worth noting.

Shane doesn’t really recall how he got from the locker room to his car. Once he’d shut and locked the doors he realized with a start that he had to go somewhere. A sudden, white hot, burning fear in his chest made him remember that every single player on the Voyagers knew where he lived. In theory, they’d all be showing up to the arena to play a game in just a few hours. Some of the messages on Hayden’s phone had been angry and violent enough that Shane was sure he could not be at the arena any longer but he could not go back to his apartment either.

His body was able to switch to autopilot to go from the arena to Ottawa. He’d been making this drive multiple times a week for months now. He was very, very good at getting to Ottawa while tired and anxious and distracted and he used every bit of that skill to get him to the highway. Only then did he relax his grip on the steering wheel enough to click at the display of his car to call Ilya.

“Shane? What is happening? You have game in two hours-“

“Ilya.” His voice cracked and he sucked in a hard breath. No other words would come out. As soon as he heard Ilya’s voice, the tears started flowing.

“Shane? What is wrong?” Ilya’s voice was heavy and serious and very close to the phone and Shane wanted to cry.

“I don’t know what happened. The team found out and it’s not good and I’m driving to Ottawa and I don’t know,” he gasped.

“Please, my love, slow down.” Ilya took a loud, exaggerated breath in and out. “What about the team?”

“They know about us,” he croaked. “I don’t know how they found out or what they know but they know.”

The other end of the line is quiet. Something rustles softly. “You are coming home?”

Shane coughed through a sob. “Theriault told me to leave the arena. I couldn’t stay in Montreal.”

“I want you here,” Ilya said firmly. “But please drive safe. Pull over if you are crying, lyubimyy. Please be careful.”

He swiped at his cheeks. The tears were replaced almost immediately. “I will. I promise.”

“I will stay on the phone. Make sure you are okay.”

Shane shook his head. “No, I need to call Mom, and Farah, and-“

“No, Shane. I will talk to Mom. I will handle. Stay here with me and just drive.”

He let his head fall back against the head rest. It was a fairly easy drive, in daylight, with no traffic. An hour and a half was doable. There was no reason for Ilya to stay on the line. The idea of letting him go was terrifying.

“Okay. I will drive.”

Ilya stayed on the line the whole time. Shane gave him updates about the ETA and Ilya gave him little reassurances as he typed furiously as his phone. Hard enough that Shane could hear it through the call. The long seconds turned to minutes turned to half hours and Shane’s breath was under control as long as he didn’t think about anything other than Ilya on the other side of the phone.

“Pull into the garage, lyubimyy, we are ready inside,” Ilya said after Shane told him he’d turned onto the street.

His dad’s car sat in the driveway, pulled to the side. The garage door was already open and ready for him. He pulled the car in and jabbed at the button on his mirror to close the door. He turned the car off and pushed his head back into the headrest and closed his eyes. He had spent two hours driving to Ilya, ready to be in Ilya’s arms, to hear Ilya tell him it would all be okay. Now he wasn’t sure he could get out of the door.

The door from the garage into the mudroom off the kitchen opened. Yuna stood, backlight from the house. She did not step down into the garage, just waited. As soon as Shane opened the door, she was over the threshold and moving towards him.

“Shane, honey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine Mom, I drove,” Shane said. He tried to keep his voice light. By the look on Yuna’s face, he hadn’t succeeded.

“Shane.”

“Please,” he breathed. “Let’s go inside. I need everyone.”

Yuna’s eyes softened. She reached out to touch Shane’s shoulder and gently guided him through the door into the house.

David and Ilya were in the living room. Dad sat on the couch, both hands wrapped around a mug as he watched them enter. Ilya was to the side, sitting in his wheelchair. Shane blinked. He hadn’t used that since he first came home. His gaze was locked intently on the Hollanders entering the room.

“Shane,” Ilya said. It’s all he needed to say. Shane crossed the room to him in a few quick steps and folded to sit at his feet. He reached his arms up to Ilya’s waist and laid his head in his lap. Ilya made a small wounded noise in the back of his throat that caused Shane to jerk back.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.

“No, no, come back. Did not hurt.” Ilya made grabby hands at Shane’s shoulders, pulling him back into his body.

Shane settled his head on Ilya’s lap again and let out one sobbing breath.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Shane admitted.

Ilya ran his fingers through Shane’s hair and put one hand on the back of his neck, squeezing gently. Shane tried to release some of the tension in his neck and shoulders but it felt like he would explode.

“Honey, can you tell us what happened? We need to know so we know how to move forward.” Yuna’s voice was soft but firm. Shane knew she was right. This was not the time to totally break down. Time was likely of the essence, as there was no way to know what was circulating and what might break containment.

“I was at the arena, and Hayden came rushing in to find me,” Shane started. He sat down on the ground and leaned against Ilya’s knee. Ilya’s hand stayed in his hair. “There were tons of messages and screenshots of messages and I think a few guys called him.”

“The whole team? The whole team was talking,” Yuna said in disbelief.

He nodded. “Pretty much. Not everyone was going along with it, but everyone saw. Some of it was, uh. Pretty violent.” Shane swallowed hard and tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling. He couldn’t stand to look in his parents’ eyes as he said this.

“Some of the guys said something about handling the problem before the game tonight. Hayden was spooked and wanted me to leave.”

“And that’s when you left?” David’s voice was strangled, like there were many more things he wanted to say but he had to rein it in.

“Theriault came into the locker room. Told me to leave. Made Hayden go with him.” Shane let out a shaky breath. “So I left.”

When he dared to tilt his head towards his parents, he saw David’s jaw was tight and Yuna’s lips were pursed. They gripped each other’s hands so hard he was sure they were losing blood flow.

“I think when you feel up to it, we should call Farah,” Yuna said finally.

Shane closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Ilya’s fingers tightened in his hair slightly. “When you are ready. You are not ready now.”

“No, I can-“

“No, Shane.” Ilya frowned down at him. “You need to rest. Heart is crazy. Body does not know it is safe.”

He wasn’t wrong. Shane’s heartrate was through the roof and there was no way he could possibly make important decisions in this state. Still, it felt impossible to calm down until they had some sort of direction and Farah would have to be involved as soon as Montreal management would be involved.

“I’ll make dinner, then you can talk to people.” David said as he stood from the couch. He left the living room for the kitchen, tension visible in his back as he walked away. Shane felt his eyes water as he watched his dad.

Ilya pressed firmly at his scalp. “Is okay, lyubimyy, just hard. He is okay.”

Shane hadn’t seen his father worked up over many things in life. The feeling was so foreign he had no idea what to do with it. Especially when it was directed at him.

Ilya nodded at Yuna and she stood to follow her husband into the kitchen. There was the soft rustle of movement and the opening and closing of cabinet doors as they started food.

“Shane. You are safe here.”

He turned his head to look up at Ilya. His brows were pinched together as his eyes roved Shane’s face. “Come, we can sit.”

Shane scooted back as Ilya rolled next to the couch and used the arm for balance as he stood on his good leg and sat back down on the couch. He patted the seat next to him and held out his arm. Shane climbed onto the couch and folded neatly against Ilya’s side, creating contact everywhere he could.

“I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Shane said into Ilya’s chest.

Comeau said he wouldn’t stand to be in the same locker room as a fag.

Drapeau said Shane must have tipped off Rozanov on their strategies.

Olsson suggested they should let Boston fans burn the real thing instead of the effigies they’d been making for years.

There were names that he had expected to see and some that he hadn’t. There hadn’t been a single person that said something in contradiction. Not even Hayden or JJ.

“I am so sorry, my love. I wish it did not have to be this way.” Ilya stroked his hand up and down Shane’s arm. He knew that eventually Ilya would ask to know exactly what had been said. Or he’d find out himself. The thought made Shane nauseous.

“I don’t know how they know. We’ve been so careful.”

Ilya hummed and squeezed Shane’s shoulder. “I do not know, but that does not matter now. We make sure you are safe and do not have to deal with those assholes.”

Shane sat up to look at Ilya’s face. “What do you mean?”

Ilya raised his eyebrows, but his eyes softened. “You cannot stay in Montreal, Shane.”

He made a face. “But Montreal is-“

Ilya tsked. “No. If you cannot burn whole thing to the ground, is not safe.” Shane tried to protest again, but Ilya cut him off. “I know, I know. Is city that brought you up. But they do not deserve you, Shane Hollander.”

Ilya’s hand came up to cradle Shane’s face. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, between his brows, on his nose, and finally to the lips. “You deserve much, much more.”

“I’m still under contract,” he protested weakly. “I have to do whatever they say.”

“You are Shane Hollander, you can do what you want.” Ilya pulled Shane back into his side and quietly shushed all further attempts at pushing back.

Finally, Shane asked, “Why were you using your chair today?”

“Mmmm. Back hurts today, too much pressure for leg. Easier than crutches.” Ilya had turned his face away from Shane, his voice low.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Shane reached up to pull Ilya’s face back in. “Nothing wrong, I just wanted to understand.”

“Bad day to have a hard day,” Ilya said simply.

“I’m glad you’re not pushing yourself through the pain. It’s a tool to use and you’re using it.”

Ilya gave him a small smile and squeezed him tighter. “I guess you are right.”

David Hollander was significantly calmer when he called the boys in for dinner. Shane helped Ilya transfer back to his chair and laughed when he saw what was waiting in the dining room. His parents, together on one side of the table, with a large pot of spaghetti in the middle and a bowl of salad to the side. Whether David had intentionally made the same meal he’d made when he and Yuna had first met Ilya or this was just a panic response meal, Shane didn’t know.

“What’s funny,” Yuna asked, eyebrows drawn together.

Shane just smiled and shot a glance at Ilya, who was already grinning at him.

“Just very good food,” Ilya said as he wheeled to his place at the table. One of the Hollanders had already pulled the chair away from his normal spot.

It was impossible to make small talk. However, instead of an awkward silence, they fell into a comfortable rhythm of passing plates and bowls and glances around the table. They were all in one place and everyone was okay and that was what they needed.

“Farah says she would be available to talk, if you’re ready after dinner,” Yuna said as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. Shane’s stomach flipped, but he nodded.

“Yeah, it’ll be good to get her looped in.”

Ilya gave him a long look. “You do not have to be ready. This can wait.”

Shane shook his head as he set down his fork. “It really can’t. People are going to talk about how I didn’t play tonight. We have to know what we’re going to say. And, I can’t imagine Montreal is going to ignore me indefinitely.”

Ilya pursed his lips but did not push back further, which Shane was counting as a win. They finished their last bites of food and David began to clear the dishes away as Yuna opened her phone and set it flat on the table. Farah’s contact information filled the screen.

“Whenever you’re ready, Shane,” she said softly.

Shane took one deep breath and leaned over to hit the call button. If he waited any longer he’d chicken out.

Farah answered immediately. “Hello? Shane?”

“Hi, Farah,” he said softly.

“Shane, I’m incredibly sorry this is happening like this. I wish it wasn’t. We’re going to do what we can to fix it.”

Farah really was a wonderful woman. She had worked with Shane for years, and then Ilya, and she did truly care about them. She was also fucking amazing at her job. She had clearly gotten a rundown on the situation from Yuna and only asked a few gentle clarifying questions of Shane. She had also requested that he get all the screenshots Hayden had and send them to her immediately. She was quick to assure Shane that they wouldn’t be trying to go after any of his teammates unless he wanted her to, but it would be good to have proof that the Voyagers were not doing anything to mitigate player lash out. She calmly explained that the Montreal front office would likely be coming down hard and fast so they didn’t have time to make a case to defend themselves. She also suggested that Shane start considering his future with the organization very, very quickly. She laid out a few options and promised to call him the next morning.

Ilya had stayed relatively quiet during the call. Farah had asked how he was doing and for his opinion on what they might say if things started to spread to the public. Mostly, he watched Shane intently and cut his eyes away when Shane said something he didn’t particularly like.

“She’ll let us know if anything else comes up. You don’t have to worry about it tonight,” Yuna said with a kiss to the top of Shane’s head as she left the room. Shane slumped in his chair and laid his forehead on the table in front of him.

“They’re playing right now,” he said softly.

“Mmm, yeah.” Ilya’s voice was strained.

“I don’t think I can watch.”

“We will not,” Ilya said simply. It was small, but Shane was glad the decision wasn’t on him.

So they sat on the couch while Yuna and David drifted in and out of the room. Ilya put on a sitcom he had been watching since the accident. He had lots of free time, and Shane appreciated that is was structured enough that he could watch an episode or two and then Ilya could watch on his own and he wouldn’t be confused when he watched again. Not that he really cared about watching the show, but he did appreciate having something to laugh at with Ilya.

They’d finished three episodes when Ilya’s phone buzzed. Shane didn’t think much of it until it buzzed three, four, five more times in quick succession. Ilya scrunched up his nose as he leaned over to grab his phone from the coffee table.

Ilya’s eyebrows flew upwards as his eyes darted quickly across the screen. When he swallowed, audible and hard, Shane’s blood went cold.

“What is it?”

“Uh, Marly.” Ilya scrolled through a text chain on his phone and pressed his lips together with a huff. “It’s Marly.”

“Ilya,” Shane warned.

“Marly is texting me about you.”

Shane’s breath caught in his throat. “He knows? Did you tell him?” Shane knows that Ilya would never have told Cliff about their relationship without asking him. For better or worse. But in this moment, he desperately wished that Ilya had folded and told Cliff everything so that him texting Ilya Rozanov about his gay boyfriend Shane Hollander did not mean that someone was spreading that exact information through the entire MLH.

“No, Shane, I did not.” He said it softly. Ilya’s fingers were flying across his phone as he tapped a response to Marlow. Shane let his head fall backwards to the couch and pressed his eyes closed.

“I’m sorry.”

Ilya whipped his head towards Shane. “No, not sorry. You did not do this.”

He pressed his palms into his eyes. “I haven’t been careful, I know I messed up I just don’t know where.”

“Shane, stop.” Ilya reached over and let his hand circle one of Shane’s wrists. He didn’t pull it away, though. “We are not the only people with our secret anymore. But it is not the end of world that people know, da? We will handle the scary parts.”

Shane’s eyes flew open. “Your passport. Russia. Ilya, if-“

“No,” he said quickly. “There is no point in worrying right now. Plan is in place. We will worry about it when it is necessary.”

Shane felt like he was shaking hard enough to vibrate out of his skin but he nodded. Ilya slowly released his wrist and glanced back at his phone.

“Let me talk to Marly for a moment. You could ask Hayden for the photos that Farah wants.”

Shane nodded mindlessly. He could do that. He had nothing else to do, other than shrink into himself and cry.

As soon as he hit send on the text to Hayden, his phone was ringing. He cringed, but picked up.

“Hayd?”

“Hey, man, I’m glad you sent a text, I just got to my car.” He sounded breathless. Shane pulled the phone away from his ear to look at the clock. The game must have just ended, Hayden would have had to sped run taking his equipment off and a shower if he was already leaving the stadium.

Shane’s gut instinct was to ask how the game went. Then he realized that was silly, because it wasn’t important, and no matter what the answer was, he probably wouldn’t be happy with it. “I made it to Ottawa,” he said instead.

“I’m glad, buddy.” Shane could hear Hayden sigh and shift around in his car.

“My, uh, agent asked if you could send me the screenshots you have. Just in case.”

“Of course, Shane,” Hayden said quickly. His voice was only a little shaky.

But Hayden kept talking. He kept talking and sometimes he paused but mostly he was talking. Shane didn’t really understand any of it. He’s not sure how long it was before Ilya took the phone from his hand and put it on speaker phone. Then, Ilya was talking. Shane frowned but he couldn’t summon any words. He could tell that Ilya and Hayden were talking now. It sounded a little tense, then maybe a little sad. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t know what they were saying.

Some unknown amount of time later, the talking stopped. He felt Ilya’s hands on his face and blinked. He blinked and blinked again and finally he saw Ilya’s face in front of him, eyes full of concern.

“Moya dusha, are you with me?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Shane slurred.

“It is okay.” Ilya leaned to kiss right in between Shane’s eyebrows.

“Ilya, what are we going to do?” His voice was hoarse and low.

Ilya’s eyes softened. “We will not make any decisions tonight. We’re going to bed.”

Shane blinked again. “But-“

“No. Bed.” Ilya shifted and began to make the transfer back to his chair. Shane wordlessly followed to their bedroom. Ilya gently prodded him through the steps of his nighttime routine. He could have done it himself, he thought, but the prompting felt good. Really good.

Shane gave Ilya his shoulder to brace on when he transferred to bed then crawled into his own spot. Ilya opened his arms immediately and Shane didn’t hesitate to curl up in his arms.

“It is going to be okay, lyubimyy. We will be okay.” Ilya kissed Shane’s temple and squeezed his arms around Shane. Shane tilted his head up to catch Ilya’s lips. He pushed their lips together firmly, seeking the pressure that told him Ilya was solid and not going anywhere.

He managed several long kisses before Ilya’s hand in his hair grew firm and he pushed Shane’s face back a bit to look at his eyes.

“Shane?”

Shane swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I don’t want to think. Please.”

The briefest moment of hesitation flashed on his face, but it smoothed out into adoration and desire. Ilya nodded twice before he pulled Shane into his lap and gave him a very small, coy smile.

“I think I remember how to make that happen.”

Shane kissed him hard and fast and didn’t regret it one bit.

Chapter End Notes

the updates are getting slower because life is getting crazy (in the most fulfilling way) but i have been greatly appreciating all of your comments and support as i push through! like, so deeply greatly appreciate it and find lots of joy in it. thanks for your contributions!

david hollander is so so important to me and while this pov doesn't really grant us full insight to him and all the things he's doing, he is so worked up about his boys being so hurt and he would give his left leg (haha) if he could stop it.

i could not tell you how close we are to the end. close enough that i'm worried about it but i don't know exactly what will happen between now and then.

Chapter 20

Chapter Notes

Shane woke up with a dull throbbing pain in his right eye and Ilya’s arm slung over his waist. He sat up slowly, with a wince. He had cried a lot yesterday and hadn’t drunk much water and his head paid the price.

Ilya whined softly, grabbing for Shane. Shane caught his wrist in his own hand and bent his head to press a kiss to Ilya’s palm before lowering his hand back down to the bed. Ilya continued to grumble but shifted to face the other way in bed and didn’t try to grab for him again.

Small fuzzy dots swam in his vision as he stood and crossed to the bathroom to fill a cup of water. Shane braced himself at the counter with his eyes closed and didn’t open them again until he’d downed the glass.

It had been nice to sleep with Ilya, so incredibly nice, and he’d needed it more than he had imagined. But he was tired and dehydrated and he knew that today would be an incredibly long day. So he put on sweats and a t-shirt that had assuredly been Ilya’s originally and padded out to the living room. Shane was completely unsurprised to find his mother already on the couch.

Yuna Hollander’s routines were just as cemented in her life as Shane’s. She was one of the most predictable people in Shane’s life. That made it all the more jarring to see her on the couch looking so different from every other early morning version of his mother Shane had ever seen. She was wearing loose cotton pants and a McGill shirt approximately four sizes too big for her and so faded it must have been from when David was actually at McGill. She’d used a hair stick to pile her hair at the top of her head, but strands were falling free at the nape of her neck and around her temples.

Those strands were fairly gray, Shane realized with a pang. Yuna’s skin looked slightly more dull than normal, like she hadn’t put on the SPF moisturizer she wore every day; that is, other than the gleaming tear tracks that ran down the side of her cheeks. She was clutching a coffee mug so tightly Shane was worried it might break.

“Mom?”

Yuna turned to look at her son and the tears immediately began to well again. “Shane, I didn’t think you’d be up.”

It was a weak excuse. It would probably take getting hit by a freight train for Shane to not be awake by seven in the morning and they both knew it.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Shane crossed the room carefully. He slowly dropped to his knees beside the couch to look up at Yuna.

“I was so happy you were a Voyager,” she hiccupped. “I know, you wanted to go first in the draft. But I was glad you were in Montreal, in my city, with my team. You made them so great, I thought you were just the perfect fit for the organization.”

Yuna took a shuddering breath in and turned her head to look away from Shane. “I’m sorry it wasn’t the right team. I’m sorry this is happening.”

Shane swore you could hear his heart crack. “Mom, it’s not your fault.” He reached out to hold her hand. “I love my team. It’s going to be fine.”

Yuna closed her eyes and exhaled long and slow. “You’ll be able to play anywhere you want. That’s always been true. I just wish it would be easier for you boys.” Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “I wish I could make it easier.”

He swallowed around a lump in his throat and squeezed his mom’s hand. She thought he was going to leave Montreal. She didn’t seem to doubt it at all. “We’ll see, Mom. I think we’re due for some luck.”

David started to make breakfast when he woke up half an hour later. Shane and Yuna sat quietly next to each other on the couch. Shane caught up on stats from games the evening before and Yuna read lots and lots of emails. Ilya rolled out to join them shortly before David finished cooking.

“Is your back still bothering you,” Shane asked quietly as Ilya maneuvered his chair to the dining room.

“Yes, some. Stress is probably not good.” Ilya was being flippant but Shane still fought the urge to flinch. “Do not apologize,” Ilya added quickly.

Shane just nodded and took his place at the table.

The Hollanders talked quietly over breakfast, subdued but not somber. Not yet. There was still a clear tension in the air from the pure uncertainty of how the day would unfold.

Ilya landed the first punch when he said, “I was texting Sveta last night. She is flying to Ottawa today.”

“What, why?” Shane asked probably too quickly and a tad defensive, but he felt it was warranted.

“She wants to support,” Ilya said simply. He took another bite of the blueberry pancake that was on his plate. “Plus, she wants to make sure she can pass me any…Russian news quickly.”

Shane’s eyes bulged. “You think this is going to get out that far? Do we need to start-“

“Shane, easy.” Ilya reached over to squeeze his leg under the table. “The Russian players will talk, but I do not think it will reach home. If it does, we have plan. Is okay.”

Shane felt like his skin might melt off and the world was going to get front row access to pick at all his muscles and organs. Sure, they had a plan, but it was truly a worst-case scenario sort of situation. The idea of just letting it progress further than it already had and potentially get worse was almost too much to bear.

“She’s welcome to stay with us at any point if you need more space in the house,” David added. Ilya flashed him a smile and Shane just did his best to not grimace.

“Have you heard from Farah yet? Or Amelia?” Yuna’s question was innocent but it raised Shane’s hackles. He hadn’t heard from Farah yet, but he suspected that might be because he hadn’t heard from the Voyagers yet either. He hadn’t talked to Amelia, his lawyer, at all since this started but Farah and Yuna clearly had. Shane just shook his head.

“Is still very early. And no news is good news, yes?” Ilya reached over to squeeze Shane’s shoulder and let his hand stay there. Shane did his best to take a large breath and release it slowly.

“Have you talked to Galina yet,” Shane finally asked instead of thinking about any of the things he needed to do.

Ilya’s smile tightened. “No, nothing pressing. My normal appointment is tomorrow, will be okay until then.”

Yuna and Shane narrowed their eyes at him but Shane’s phone buzzed on the table before either of them could say anything.

Meeting in the executive board room at 9:00.

Shane’s jaw dropped as he read and reread the text from Theriault. It was so ridiculously blunt and presumptive that he had no idea how to respond out loud. His family watched as he screenshotted the message, sent it to Farah, and pressed the call button.

“What the fuck do I do about that,” he said as soon as she picked up. She hummed softly as she clearly pulled the phone away from her face to read the message. Shane put the call on speaker and set his phone down on the table.

Shane could hear her frown through the phone. “That’s ridiculous. There’s no way you could get to Montreal in time for that, but maybe it’s for the best. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be on team owned property until some of this is sorted. After those messages I saw last night, I think there’s a real security risk.”

“So what do I do?”

“Let me handle it. I will message Theriault and his assistant to schedule it as a virtual meeting. They shouldn’t be reaching out to you about something like this without me anyway.”

Shane nods, even though he knows she can’t see him. There’s just simply nothing else for him to do.

“Try to relax. Think about what we talked about last night. I’ll send you the meeting details and we’ll go into this together,” Farah said gently. Shane mumbled his thanks and goodbyes and stared at his phone after the distinct beeps of the call being ended.

“What can we do for you, honey?” Yuna’s voice was so sincere.

“I don’t really think there’s anything to do but wait,” Shane said quietly.

Even though it’s virtual, even though Ilya is just out of frame and his parents are in the other room, even though Farah is on the call and doing most of the talking, it is so horrible. It’s so horrible that Shane barely spoke. He barely remembers what was said, he just knew that Theriault was there, and the GM, and the head of marketing and a handful of other executives Shane has met over the years. Their meetings before had been polite, if not always warm or personable.

On this Zoom call, not a single person was smiling and not a single person was on his side, other than Farah and Amelia. Through the haze, he gathers that he will finish the playoffs with the Voyagers. Theriault was not happy about it but some decisions are out of his hands; the execs the  clearly understood that Shane Hollander is their best chance at bringing the cup home in June. Montreal is willing to give him some time to talk to other teams about a trade but if he didn’t find something they would put him on waivers during the offseason.

The idea of Shane Hollander on waivers was so absolutely ridiculous that Ilya and Yuna both looked like they were going to lose it. Farah wasn’t far behind them and she was still trying to look calm on camera for the meeting. Amelia and Farah had some things to push back on but most of it went way over Shane’s head. He was mostly focusing on no having a panic attack during the meeting.

The call must have ended because suddenly Ilya was next to Shane. He had put his prosthetic on at some point because it knocked against Shane’s leg.

“Lyubimyy, I am so sorry. They will regret this.” Ilya reached for both of Shane’s hands and gripped them, hard. “You do not have to play any more games if you do not want to.”

Shane started. “Not play? That’s ridiculous.”

Ilya’s eyes flashed. “It will be dangerous. Your team-“

“My team wants to win,” Shane said firmly. “That’s more important than all of it, at the end of the day.”

Ilya grimaced. “I am not sure that is true this time, Shane,” he said softly.

There’s only three days before Montreal is set to play their first post-season game. Luckily, the series starts in Montreal, so Shane doesn’t have to worry about travel for another week. Two days left in Ottawa is still so daunting he feels sick.

Ilya kept bringing up the idea of Shane not going back to play his final games in Montreal and Shane kept shutting him down. With a moratorium on the topic, they shuffle anxiously around each other in the house the rest of the day.

Shane was trying to get a light workout in when his phone buzzed. There’d been several text messages from players across the league trying to ask questions or offer support or condolences. He hadn’t had the words or energy to respond to respond to any of them and had stopped reading them after the fourth. He did check each notification, in case it was important, and to take a note of who reached out.

He leaned to see the screen where it sat on the bench. Something tightened in his chest when he saw Scott Hunter’s name on his screen. Shane took a few steps to properly pick up his phone and tap into the message.

I didn’t want to say something that you hadn’t confirmed yourself but I’ve heard about what’s happening in Montreal and thought this was more important.

You have supporters in the league. I hope you find a good barn that knows what you’re worth and you keep playing kickass hockey. Hope to talk the next time you’re in New York.

Shane had been a professional hockey player for ten seasons and it was still a little crazy to get texts like this from the guys who would obviously be inducted into the hall of fame one day. From the guy who was objectively the reason Shane and Ilya ever got their shit together and confronted their feelings.

Thanks, it means a lot. We’ll definitely need to catch up when we can.

Shane didn’t have the capacity or heart left to say anything more. He hoped one day he would be able to really express to Scott how much the text meant to him.

Workout forgotten, Shane tapped through other messages he’d received. Other captains, other vets, guys who clearly were sending the same sort of vaguely worded text that did not say they were queer but were painfully obvious. Shane figured Scott Hunter had received plenty of those after he won the Stanley Cup. Hell, he’d sent Scott Hunter a similar message himself.

He wandered into the kitchen with his phone still in hand. Shane had decided he wasn’t going to respond to any of the messages other than Scott’s. No one could begrudge him being a little busy at the moment. It was still incredibly overwhelming to see all of the words and not know what to do about them.

“Okay, Shane?” Ilya crutched into the room, his nose scrunched as he took Shane in.

“Mmm, yeah. Just catching up on messages.”

Something intense flashed in Ilya’s eyes. “Is it the Voyagers?”

Shane pursed his lips. “No. Just other guys in the league.”

“Ah, I see.” Ilya’s face softened. “The congrats on being gay and bagging the best guy in the league texts. I have been receiving as well.”

Shane laughed and began to protest that clearly, he was the better player. The words caught in his throat as he realized they’d need a way to quantify how to compare to each other when one of them didn’t play anymore. Ilya’s eyes dimmed slightly when he realized he had referred to himself as a player in the present tense but he continued as if nothing had happened.

“Eventually, these guys are going to wonder if being gay is the secret to being good at hockey,” Shane mused as Ilya crossed the kitchen to stand next to him.

“Hmm, would like to see them try. Funny, at least,” Ilya laughed. He leaned back against the counter next to where Shane stood, a small, tired smile on his face.

“How are you doing,” Shane asked, voice low. Ilya let out a long sigh and shrugged his shoulders up to his ears.

“Okay. Thinking about your team. The league. But mostly thinking about you.”

Shane’s smile softened into something much more sincere. “I know you’re worried Ilya, but I have to do this. For me. For what I’ve built my career on.”

Ilya nodded and closed his eyes. “I know, Shane. I just wish it was different.”

The Hollanders had dinner with the boys again. David had been sent out to retrieve food from the Lebanese pizza place that wasn’t far from the house. He returned with two pizzas and the protein chicken and pasta the owners had taken to making when Ilya had asked one too many times about the healthiest pizza option they had. Shane had been inside the shop a time or two to pick things up and it was incredibly heartwarming to know they cared enough to change their menu, even if they thought there were two weird protein freaks in Ottawa frequenting their restaurant.

They didn’t talk about hockey or the league at all during dinner. Yuna and Shane were on their best behavior, and David and Ilya seemed all the more relaxed for it. Instead, they talked about Ilya’s physical therapy and how long he was able to spend wearing his prosthetic and how he was thinking about getting a dog.

“A dog? Seriously?” Shane set his fork down on the plate and raised his eyebrows at Ilya.

“Yes! Harris and his family rescue pups all the time and they are so sweet. I think it would be nice to have little dog at home, yes?”

Shane bit his lip to keep from saying that he worried about how dangerous a dog would be underfoot when Ilya’s mobility and balance weren’t great. He knew there were specially trained service animals; maybe there was a dog out there who could be trained to stay out from underfoot when Ilya was moving.

“I think a dog could be great,” David added once he finished a bite of pizza. “You certainly have the space for one here.”

Ilya was practically beaming as he nodded. “Yes. Maybe not big dog, but a little dog would be perfect here.”

Shane hummed noncommittally but decided to add researching dog breeds to his list of things to do while he was in Montreal between playoff games.

After dinner, Yuna and David shooed the boys away to the living room to pick out a movie to watch while they cleaned up the kitchen and dining room. The boys had just settled down onto the couch, Ilya reaching for the remote when Shane’s phone buzzed again.

He shook his head slightly when he saw the message. “Ryan Price just texted me,” he said absently as he tapped into the message. Price’s words were stilted, but he definitely seemed to fall into the maybe suspiciously supportive camp.

Ilya leaned to look at the screen himself. “He is good guy. Quiet, but good. Glad he reached out.”

“I don’t know, I feel like it’s a lot. These guys don’t even know for sure if anything is real. I could tell him that it’s all just a misunderstanding.”

Ilya stiffened immediately. Shane didn’t realize he’d dropped a bomb in between them until he turned to look at Ilya and found his face absolutely shattered.

“Misunderstanding? Is this what you tell them all today,” Ilya croaked.

Shane shook his head. “No, I’m just saying, we haven’t announced anything. We could still deny it all.”

Wrong thing to say. Ilya immediately scrambled for his crutches and tried to push himself up off the couch. Shane’s arm shot out, grabbing at his wrist. “Wait, Ilya,”

“No,” he said firmly. He shook of Shane’s hand to stand to moved a few deliberate steps away from the couch. “Is this really what you think?”

Shane hesitated. “We could. I didn’t actually say it.”

Ilya sagged, the crutches seemingly the only thing keeping him upright. “I know this is not ideal, Shane.” His voice was thick with almost-tears, his accent much more pronounced than normal. “I wish we could have told everyone how we wanted to. But please, Shane, let me have this.”

 “What do you mean?” Shane blinked up at him in confusion.

Ilya shook his head slowly as the tears began to fall in earnest. “People know. We do not have to hide. The world has not ended. Maybe it will all be okay, when you find a new team and people can know about us and we do not have to hide. I do not want to hide anymore, lyubimyy.”

Before Shane can find the words to say, Ilya left the room. Shane felt glued in place as his mind scrambled for the right words to say. As he listened to Ilya crutch further down the hallway, he feared there was nothing he could do at that point.

“Son,” David said softly from the living room doorway. Shane craned his neck to look at his father who stood haloed by the soft kitchen light.

“I don’t know-“

“Shh, it’s okay.” David was at Shane’s side in an instant, pulling his face into the crook of his neck. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt him.” David used one hand to cradle the back of Shane’s head, the other to press firmly at his back and squeeze him in. The pressure was so reassuring hee could feel the tears forming in his won eyes.

Shane’s heart hammered against his ribs. “Dad, did I fuck up?”

David laughed wetly. “I think you might have. But if you take a few deep breathes and go in after him with a clear mind, I think he’ll forgive you.”

“I didn’t mean that we should really deny it, I just hate that people are accepting what could just be a rumor. We don’t even know how this got out or if it is anything other than rumor that hit the nail on the head.”

David pulled Shane away from his chest to he could look at his face, but kept his hands on Shane’s shoulders. “I understand. I wish so badly I could go back and stop this all from happening and help the two of you decide what you really want. But you’re here now and you need to stick together, and Ilya’s right. There are a lot of good things that are true now because you don’t have to be so worried.”

He sucked in a breath and nodded. His dad was right. Of course, he was always right. “Thanks, Dad,” he said softly. He leaned forward again to press his forehead to David’s shoulder before he stood up from the couch. “I think I need to go talk to him.”

David gave him a smile and squeeze his hand. “I think you’re right. Just let me know if you need anything.”

Ilya was sitting on the foot of the bed, staring off at the wall when Shane pushed the door to the bedroom open. “Ilya?”

Ilya swiped at his eyes before meeting Shane’s gaze. “You do not have to come apologize. I understand.”

Shane frowned as he knelt in front of Ilya. He reached up to grab Ilya’s hands in his, even as the other man turned his face away, towards the windows. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Shane pressed one kiss to the palm of each hand. “I was frustrated and the words came out wrong. I’m still upset and I’m not sure when I won’t be upset but I don’t regret that I have you or that people know I love you.”

He kissed Ilya’s hands once again. “I’m glad people know that you’re mine and that you’re loved and that I’m yours. I won’t deny that.”

Ilya made grabbing hands at Shane’s shoulders, his sides, until he was up and on Ilya’s lap. Ilya crushed his face into Shane’s sternum and kept his arms wound around his back as he made a quiet confession. “I have wanted this for so long. For people to know and to get to be with you outside and not care. I had a dream that we would play together and win many cups and rewrite what people think good hockey is.”

It was like a stab directly to the heart. He hadn’t ever quite let himself have the same dream but it was easy to listen to Ilya say it. “We would have been so good,” he admitted into Ilya’s hair.

“I am sorry this will not happen. But I think you can still win many cups and I can still be there and we can be happy.”

It sounded so much like a question that Shane felt the tears well again. “Of course, Ilya. Of course, we can be happy.”

Ilya just nodded into his chest and kept Shane there for a long, long time.

Chapter End Notes

shoutout to my favorite lebanese pizza place. i'd do unholy things for those pies.

the hollander family unit is so important to me. they're making it through together! shane is going through it and not making the wisest decisions but they will get him through it together gosh darn it! (i relate deeply with a man who will make unwise decisions for Honor and Obligation to the thing he has spent so much time and effort on)(this is unhealthy and shane will learn this eventually)

thanks for all the love and support as always! maybe i sound like a broken record but i do truly value it and it is what keeps me going when sometimes it would be soooooo much easier to do literally anything other than wrestle with the version of these two idiots in my head.

Chapter 21

Chapter Notes

Svetlana lands in Ottawa early early the next morning and Ilya was attempting to call her an Uber when David waved him away and insisted he would go to pick her up from the airport. It softened something in Shane to see how easily his parents welcomed Svetlana into the family group. They had gotten much closer to each other when Svetlana was in Ottawa after the crash then he could have ever dreamed.

She was nearly on top of Ilya as soon as she was in the door. She checked for proof of life and whether she needed to immediately step in to burn someone’s house time but seemed to be mildly satisfied that Ilya was of sound mind and in no immediate danger. Then, Ilya whirled her around the house to show her all the things he’d added since she had been there last to make things just a tad easier and showed off how proficient he was getting with his prosthetic. Shane did not comment that he took it off immediately after his demonstration. His back was clearly still bothering him and it panged something in Shane’s chest that was surprisingly close to guilt.

Mid-morning, David and Yuna slipped away to check on their house and get a few things to prepare to continue to camp out with Ilya during Montreal’s playoff run. When Ilya shut himself in the office for his appointment with Galina, Shane and Svetlana were alone.

“How are you holding up?” She sat with her knees pulled up to her chest, nestled in the corner of the couch. A cup of tea sat on the end table at her elbow but it was so hot it was still steaming.

Shane shrugged. “Fine. I mean, it’s obviously not great.” Svetlana scoffed. “But it could have been worse.”

She gave him a hard stare. “The Voyagers are fucking idiots.”

Shane gaped at her. “What do you-?”

“Oh, you know it’s true.” She waved her hand at him dismissively. “If they weren’t, they wouldn’t be throwing you away. They told you to figure it out, yes?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed around the lump in his throat. He really hoped that she had just been talking with Ilya and this information wasn’t already floating through the league like the rest of it.

“You still have a no trade clause in your contract, right? So you get to pick.”

Shane furrowed his eyebrows. “Yes, but-“

“No buts. Montreal would be stupid to put you on waivers. They’d much rather take something than nothing in exchange for you. But the no trade clause means you can essentially pick what trade you want to accept, so you can do whatever you want.” Svetlana’s eyes glowed. “Where do you want.”

“I haven’t thought about it,” Shane answered truthfully. “I still have at least one playoff series left in Montreal. Hopefully more.”

She clicked her tongue softly. “So loyal. I guess I should not have a problem that Ilyusha’s man is so loyal. But you need a plan, Hollander.”

He opened and closed his mouth to speak several times before he landed on something that felt even remotely true or fitting for the conversation. “I haven’t ever thought about playing for anywhere other than Montreal.”

Svetlana giggled. “Oh, you have no imagination! Every team in the league who has cap space would kill for you.” She paused to think for a moment. “Actually, the teams without cap space are really the ones most likely to kill people to make it happen.”

Shane scrunched up his nose. “That’s a bit much.”

“I wish I was joking.” Her face sobered. “Really, the world is your oyster. Where are you going?”

As much as Svetlana could joke about people offing their expensive players to get him on the roster, there were just realistically some teams that had too many high salary guys to be an option. Plus, some franchises felt completely satisfied with their star centers. For example, there was no way he’d be getting any calls from the Admirals. They just had no use for someone like Shane when they had Scott Hunter already.

There were plenty of teams that could afford him. Unfortunately, most of those teams sucked. Bottom of the barrel, hadn’t seen a post season game in years, and middling draft picks for the foreseeable future. Shane had built a program up before, but it had taken ten years to get it to the point where they were consistently cup contenders and the idea of trying to do that again was exhausting.

There were a few teams, middle of pack standings-wise, that could probably afford him. Teams with veteran guys looking to retire or just underutilization of their roster space. It wouldn’t be a walk in the park to get any of those teams to a cup, but not impossible. Shane had options.

“I’ll think about it,” Shane said finally. Svetlana pursed her lips but did not push farther. For all of her interest in Shane’s next move, she seemed to respect the fact that he was still a Voyager and was behaving as such.

That lasted all of about thirty seconds before she started again. “You know, Ilyusha will probably follow you wherever you go. You are picking for both of you.”

Shane wanted to argue that Ilya had found a home with the Centaurs, was still a Centaur, but the points crumbled before he could even begin to voice it. Ilya would not play in the MLH again, he would not be under contract, and the Ottawa organization didn’t technically owe him anything. It was terrifying to think about, honestly.

“We’ll talk about it. After I’m done with Montreal.”

She took the hint a little better that time. They sat mostly in silence until Ilya finished his therapy appointment and rejoined them in the living room.

“How’d it go,” Shane asked nervously. His eyes roved over Ilya to look for signs of distress. He looked a bit weary and tired but his eyes weren’t red and his skin wasn’t splotchy.

Ilya shrugged. “Okay. We talked about coping methods and what issues I might have going forward. Not many issues.”

Shane wanted to protest. Surely, Ilya just wasn’t letting himself freak out or panic or think about any of the negatives. Shane was terrified just thinking about all the things Ilya was facing on top of how torn apart his life had been before.

“Sounds like she has done her job well up to this point,” Svetlana said with slight surprise.

“Galina is very good. I appreciate her,” Ilya said, more than a little bit begrudgingly.

“I’m very glad,” Sveta smiled. Shane couldn’t find any words to say that wouldn’t be completely hollow or obviously crazy, so he did his best to smile and let the two of them talk quietly on the couch together.

Five minutes later he began to move slowly through the living room, folding blankets and straightening pillows that were already straight. He took a few glasses into the kitchen to load in the dishwasher. In there, he wiped down the counters and the sink and swept the floors. Shane was seriously considering getting out the vacuum cleaner when the doorbell rang.

He peeked his head into the living room. “Where you expecting anyone?”

Ilya shook his head and Svetlana just shrugged. Shane furrowed his eyebrows and went to check the front door. A look through the window next to the door revealed to him Brandon Wiebe, a few steps back from the door with his hands folded behind his back.

“It’s Coach Wiebe,” Shane called over his shoulder to Ilya. He knew that the man on the other side of the door had heard him but there was no way in hell he was opening it until Ilya told him too.

The faint clicking on the hardwood told him Ilya was approaching the door. Shane raised his eyebrows and nodded his head towards the door in silent question. Ilya bit his lip and nodded once before coming to a stop a few feet away.

“Hey Wiebe, what can we do for you?” Shane tried to be polite. He was mostly just incredibly put off that Wiebe had shown up to the front door for no apparent reason.

Brandon gave a warm smile. “Hey, Shane. I assume Ilya is home?”

A soft grunt from behind Shane gave him the needed permission to respond. “Yeah, he’s here.” Shane opened the door a bit wider so everyone could see each other clearly.

“Hi, Coach,” Ilya said softly.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Ilya nodded and began to crutch back inside. Shane stepped aside and watched anxiously as Wiebe followed Ilya into the house. Ilya paused at the end of the hallway to look at Wiebe.

“Is this a private talk,” he asked.

“The first part, at least.” Ilya nodded and turned towards his office. Brandon shot an apologetic look at Shane before he followed. Shane couldn’t do anything but sit down on the couch with Svetlana again and stare daggers at the closed office door until they emerged.

He could tell that Svetlana wanted to ask questions or talk about it. They also both knew there was no way Shane was going to be able to talk without vibrating out of his skin. Maybe Svetlana didn’t know this as a fact but she had enough of an idea that she mercifully stayed quiet and let Shane panic internally.

As the minutes rolled by, Shane got more and more fidgety. There were no loud voices coming from the office so the conversation couldn’t be heated. It was still nerve wracking to not know what was important enough for Wiebe to show up to the house unannounced for a private conversation. After seven minutes Shane’s heart rate spiked when the thought occurred to him that Wiebe was trying to gently break to Ilya that his employment was being terminated since it was the end of the season and he wouldn’t be playing again and he was losing his visa and would have to go back to Russia.

After eleven minutes Shane was fully ready to break down the door and take Ilya far, far away to never be seen again. Naturally, that’s when the two men emerged from the office. Wiebe looked slightly less tense than he had at the door. Ilya seemed to be very deep in thought as he crutched to Shane’s side on the couch and settled in deeply.

”What’s this about,” Shane asked, his voice high and tense.

“I have some offers to make,” Brandon said as he sat down in a chair across from the couch. “First, I’ve extended an assistant coaching position to Ilya.”

Shane snapped his head to the side to look at Ilya. His face betrayed nothing but deep concentration. “I didn’t realize the Centaurs had a position open.”

“The news will break in a few days, but Tidwell has been offered an assistant job in Winnipeg. His wife is pregnant, and they’re from that area. He’s ready to move home, and the HC over there is going to retire at the end of next season. He’ll be ready to move up and do some good things there.”

Shane nodded. That made sense. He’d heard a fair share of rumors that Winnipeg’s coach was either going to retire or bite the dust soon, so he wasn’t shocked to hear that they were looking to line up a successor. He’d met Tidwell a few times and figured he’d do a decent job with a franchise that was struggling to rebuild. His experience with Ottawa would likely help him with that.

“But, Ilya?”

Wiebe smiled. “Yes, Ilya. You know as well as I do that players listen to him and that he’s a far more analytical player than people give him credit for. I think he could do a really good job helping develop players into what we need to be successful.” He was confident. Sure. Shane was glad that Ilya had people who believed in him like that. The idea of Ilya working full time was also panic inducing enough to make his head spin.

“Do you think you’re ready for something like that,” he asked finally, looking back at Ilya.

“I have not answered yet,” Ilya said quickly, eyes flashing to Wiebe. “But, I think it could be good. To stay on the ice. In the game. With the Centaurs.”

Shane rubbed his palms up and down his thighs a few times before nodding. “Okay. When does he have to have an answer by?”

Wiebe shrugged. “We’re not on a strict timeline. Ideally, the sooner the better, but we have a few months before training camp which is the absolute latest we could bring him on.”

Shane was trying to think through how much Ilya’s tolerance for being in public or using his prosthetic would change in that amount of time before something Wiebe had said snagged at his brain. “You said you had offers to make. Plural.”

Wiebe smiled at him and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, I did. I wanted to run it by Ilya first, because his offer was approved by management a couple weeks ago and it’s important to me that he knows that the team wants him.” Brandon took a deep breath before continuing. “But management has already heard through somewhat official channels that you and Montreal will be looking for a team to take over your contract.”

Shane felt his throat tighten. He sat up a bit straighter and nodded. “Yeah, after the playoffs are over.”

Brandon hesitated ever so slightly. “Shane, I don’t want you to feel any pressure, for any reason. But We’ve recently freed up a fair amount of cap space and found ourselves in need of a first line center.”

Shane sputtered. “I don’t- I don’t know what you mean, I mean-“

“Again, I don’t need an answer today. I know you have more games to play. But I hope you think about it. Both of you. You have individual offers so you can accept or decline separately. However, as an organization, we’re willing and ready to work through the intricacies of you being on the same team. If that’s what you want.” Wiebe leaned back a little, news delivered and mission completed.

“Thank you, Coach. We will think about this,” Ilya said. Shane wasn’t sure if he nodded or not. He’s pretty sure he went with Ilya to walk Wiebe to the door, but the next time he was fully coherent they were back on the couch and Ilya was peering at him intensely.

“Are you okay, lyubimyy?”

“I don’t want to think about it right now,” Shane said finally. He gritted his teeth slightly and started to shut out the conversation from his mind. He couldn’t go any play at least a full playoff series in Montreal if he was constantly thinking about whether he’d be in a red and black jersey next season.

Ilya’s eyes shuttered slightly but he nodded. “I understand. We can talk when you finish games with Montreal.” He leaned forward to kiss Shane’s forehead. They stayed leaned into each other’s space for several long moments.

For the rest of the evening and the next day, Shane was essentially useless. He wandered through the house like a zombie, trying to clean and tidy and organize to keep himself busy. Yuna and David fretted, Svetlana tried to get him to stop and sit and talk, and Ilya mostly watched quietly. Sure, some moments almost felt normal and he could talk and laugh but they were far outnumbered. He sat down several times to watch film and study game notes for Detroit. After dinner with his parents and Sveta and Ilya, he drove back to Montreal to sleep in his apartment and wake up to his pregame ritual. He went through the motions mechanically and with little though, working out and stretching and eating breakfast and lunch on his own before heading to the arena for some solo warmup time.

Hayden and J.J. show up a full hour before they normally would with the rest of the team. They watched as Shane skated lazy circles and they sat with him in the locker room as he tried to clear his mind and suited up when he did.

“You can’t act like this the rest of the season,” Shane said finally when he finished taping his stick. Hayden made a few more winds around his before tearing the tape and tapping the heel of the blade twice.

“I don’t think you can really stop me.”

“Me either,” J.J. offered brightly. Shane scowled.

“I don’t need babysitters.”

“You do need friends, though,” Hayden said heavily. “And visible friends. So those shitheads don’t forget that you’re not alone.”

Shane’s mouth tightened. “I’ll be fine, Hayd.”

“There’s nothing wrong with spending a little extra time with our capitaine,” J.J. crooned. “Especially when he will be leaving us soon.”

Shane started. “What-?”

“Theriault is a bastard,” Hayden grumbled. “And not subtle at all.”

Shane opened and closed his mouth several times. “So everyone knows that-“

“That the Voyagers are idiots and running you off? More or less.”

He bit the inside of his cheek and tapped his stick against the ground a few times. “Guys, I didn’t want to go. I promise.”

They both rolled their eyes. “Then you are more stupid than I thought,” Hayden huffed.

“You should not stay where you are not appreciated. Pike and I cannot appreciate you enough for a full squad, sadly,” J.J. whined. “I will be happy to never win a game as a Voyager without you so these bastards can get what is coming for them.”

“That’s a bit excessive,” Shane protested. There was something a bit warm and tender in his chest to know his As had his back so thoroughly.

He needed it. The ice was brutal that night.

Sure, they beat Detroit 1-0. On paper, they had a decent night. Nothing to write home about but also nothing that would raise alarm. Shane had slightly fewer than average shots on goal, but his percentage was up. They didn’t log too many penalty minutes, and their one goal came on a power play they made good use of. It was not a record-breaking game but it was the first win on a long road to the Stanley cup.

It was unlikely that anyone with eyes who actually watched the game appreciated the win. Montreal was a mess. The defensemen weren’t passing the puck up the ice efficiently, leaving the wingers and center stuck further down the ice to try to create possessions themselves. When Shane got stuck up against the boards, there was no one there to help bail him out. He fought for possession of the puck and he fought the Detroit defense and offense alike and scored the single goal of the nights through a sheen of sweat that almost blinded him. He hadn’t played that hard in a game in years and it felt like he’d been moving through mud. If the rest of the series was going to go like that, Shane wasn’t sure he had the energy to make it to a game six, let alone play the next round.

Hayden and J.J. stayed with him on the bench and in the locker room after the game. Hayden went so far as to taking media time with Shane, something he typically weaseled out of as quickly as possible.

By the time they’d finished their interviews, half of the guys had already cleared out from the locker room. J.J. was freshly showered and slowly dressing in his slacks and button up shirt when they returned.

“Headed home tonight, yes? Very tiring game,” he said mournfully.

Shane nodded wordlessly. He started to strip his outer layers and heard a cough from across the room. His shoulders tensed but he pointedly didn’t turn to look. It was just fuel he did not want to add to the fire. Not ever, and certainly not that night.

He and Hayden showered and the locker room cleared out further. Shane tried to dress quickly. J.J. was still waiting for them to finish and Hayden always tried to get out quickly after home games to get to Jackie and the kids. He didn’t want to hold them up and he didn’t want to be there any longer than necessary.

“Good game boys. I’ll see you at practice tomorrow,” Shane said with a quick clap on the shoulder for both Hayden and J.J. before he slipped out of the rink to his car and made his way home to a quiet night.

The next day, after practice, he arrived home to a text that Ilya, Sveta, and his parents would be coming to Montreal the next day for his game.

There’s no need for that. It’s game two.

Want to see you play. Don’t see why not.

Shane huffed and rolled his eyes and texted Hayden to ask if he was using all his comp tickets. Jackie and the kids were certainly not going to game two of the first series, so he had Hayden’s tickets to offer to the entourage on top of his own and made peace with the fact that there was no way he could stop them from showing up.

Montreal lost game two. It was 0-1, an easy reversal of game one, but it was a brutal loss. Nothing connected, Shane felt like he skated four times as far as normal and the penalty minutes just kept stacking up. They played sloppy, through and through. It sucked and he still had to do press and the locker room was still mostly empty by the time he returned and when he made it back to his house his family was completely subdued. He pretended not to hear them as they made plans to travel to Detroit for game three in two days.

When the team shows up to the player’s lot to take a bus to the airport, Shane starts to hear the rumblings. People are talking about room assignments.

He doesn’t think much of it as he tersely discusses the practice plan with Theriault. Shane settles into his normal seat next to Hayden. J.J. has a row to himself behind them and keeps leaning forward to poke his head over the seats and talk to them. Shane pretends he doesn’t hear the murmurs of the team and tries to smile at J.J. but it gets harder when they get off the bus and board the plane and there’s a whole empty row to their side and behind.

I just want this to be over, Shane thinks blearily. He wasn’t sure he had ever wanted a hockey season to end but there was a first time for everything.

A team coordinator appeared next to his seat an hour into the flight with a nervous smile and a folder clutched tightly in her hands.

“Mr. Hollander?”

Shane took out his headphones and twisted to face her fully. “Yes?”

“There have been some comments made about the hotel list,” she said sheepishly. Shane frowned.

“What about it. Are there issues? Do we have triple rooms in this hotel?”

She shook her head. “No, ah, the concerns are mostly about your room assignment.”

At this point, Hayden leaned forward to look around Shane to the coordinator. “What about it? Aren’t we roomies, like normal?”

She glanced down at the folder and back up at Hayden. “Yes, Mr. Pike, it looks like you are, if you’re okay with that. If not-“

“Of course I’m okay with it. Shane is the only one who puts up with my snoring.” Hayden gives her a strong look before leaning back in his seat and putting his headphones back on. Shane turns to her again and waits tensely for her response.

“Is there anything else,” he says finally when she doesn’t speak but also doesn’t move.

“Oh, yes. If there’s no issues then we don’t need to change anything. Sorry for bothering you both.” She slipped through the aisle back to her seat towards the front of the plane. Shane closed his eyes and tried desperately not to think about his teammates behind him.

Shane hadn’t really tried to stop his family from coming to Detroit for the game but he really wished they hadn’t done it. The Voyagers hadn’t expressly said anything to Shane about Ilya but J.J. and Hayden had heard enough that they looked shocked when Shane quietly admitted that Ilya would be at the game. At an away game, there wouldn’t be the same opportunity to hide away somewhere in the arena like there had been in Montreal. His friends’ reactions were enough for him to decide not to tell the team anything about his family being present and send a quick text to his parents that they needed to try to be discreet in the crowd. There was only so much they would be able to hide themselves or Ilya but something must be better than nothing.

Shane was trying to catch them out of the side of his eye during warmups to test how hidden they were. Consequently, he paid absolutely no attention to the drills being run around him as he skated gentle laps and stretched. Some benefits of being the captain included making J.J. run drills so he could be left alone to do what he wanted. He could write it all of as getting in the zone as long as he was actually warmed up enough to play a game.

Montreal started the first period fast. Yes, the series was tied, but they were embarrassed after two ugly games on home ice. They wanted game three to be a definitive win and change the tone of the series. If they could win both in Detroit, they’d just have to go home and win one more to make it to the next round. It was far too early in a cup run to be pushed to a full seven games where each one sapped a bit more of your strength.

Detroit was energized, but not enough to keep up. Shane scored once, twice, both off assists from J.J. They still weren’t getting much action from the defense but it was fine, they were making plays for themselves and it was working.

At the beginning of the second period, Detroit scored once. The puck ricochetted off of Drapeau’s pads straight into the net. The was a bummer but it would have been a hard shot to block effectively and Montreal was still up. Sure, Shane wanted to score again, but he wasn’t feeling pressure.

A few shifts later, Shane was deep in the neutral zone trying to regain possession of the puck. Hayden was occupying the Detroit center and Andropov was trying to get in and clear the puck to J.J. Except J.J. wasn’t looking. He was trying to avoid getting boarded by one of the Detroit defensemen, so his head was turned when Andropov cleared it. Shane felt the burst in his legs as instinct took over to try and intercept the puck and take it up ice.

He’d made a few good strides when his right leg, extended behind him for a good push forward, was slammed down to the ground. Shane crumpled, his arms flailing as he tried to brace for impact with the ice.

Chapter End Notes

okay guys barring things going crazy and getting out of control I think we’re in for one more plus an epilogue – buckle up! no i won't be changing the chapter count i'm scared i'm wrong.

sorry to end it like that, but the chapter pacings would be horrible and awful if i'd changed it (i tried, i really really tried i promise)

thank you for all of your support, hope this isn't too hard on you to leave it off! love the comments as always. feel free to come yell at me on tumblr at unhinged-ceramic-frog

Chapter 22

Chapter Notes

Objectively, Shane knew it was too loud in a MLH stadium during a playoff game to have heard the pop in his knee. However, he thought about the sound he thought he heard as he laid on the ice and tried not to move. He kept his eyes closed and tried to breath even thought his knee felt like it was on fire.

“Shane! Shane, are you okay?” The soft swish of Hayden’s skates arrived before he did. His voice was panicked and suddenly his hands were on Shane’s shoulders and the sides of his face.

Shane furrowed his brow and tried to swat Hayden’s hand away. “I’m alive, man, it’s okay.” Shane took a deep breath and tried to take stock of his body. He still couldn’t open his eyes. “It’s my knee.”

“They’re bringing medical out, we’ll get you off the ice.” Hayden continued to ramble and fret as Shane tried to focus on the cold seeping in from the ice rather than his knee.

Hayden’s voice in his ear was a good distraction, if an annoying one. When medical reached them and started asking questions, Shane realized it was quiet. He couldn’t hear the crowd at all. He startled with a jolt when he remembered his parents were in the crowd. Ilya was somewhere in the crowd.

A medic pushed at his shoulder when he tried to sit up. “We’ll get you on a board in a minute, Hollander, you’ve gotta stay still.” He was checking Shane’s eyes, fingers pressing lightly at the pulse point on his neck. There was another set of hands probing his leg. When one of the hands reached his knee, he tried not to hiss.

“They need to know I’m okay,” Shane insisted as he clenched his teeth and tried to push himself up again.

“They already left to go beneath the arena,” Hayden said quickly. Shane deflated a bit. That wasn’t necessarily good. If they hadn’t seen him move on the ice, hadn’t seen him respond to Hayden, they might be worried sick that something was really wrong.

“I need to get to my family,” Shane urged the medic again.

There was a small chuckle. “They’ll be ready for us, I promise. We’re going to get you up in just a second.”

Shane did his best to cooperate as they stabilized his neck and slid a med board underneath him. He crossed his arms over his chest and did his best to breath normally and stay balanced on the center of the board.  Shane was fairly sure he hadn’t hit his head when he fell but they were still following all precautions. He’d still probably have to go through the concussion screening once he was stabilized off the ice somewhere.

The team doctor caught him right as they left the ice. “You’re going straight to the hospital for imaging, Hollander. I don’t know how bad the damage is but you’ve certainly torn something in your knee.”

Shane winced. If the hit had been bad enough that the doc didn’t even want to put his own hands on it before sending him to the hospital, then there was simply no way he’d be on the ice again this season.

“Where is-“

“Shane!” He couldn’t really tel who had yelled his name. In all likelihood, it had been both his parents and Ilya. The brackets on the board designed to keep his neck straight prevented him from turning his head but he could see them rounding the corner at the very edge of his vision. He blindly held a hand out towards his family.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he tried to reassure them. They couldn’t get too close with the medics in the way, but Ilya was certainly trying. He ended up near Shane’s head, peering down with large, worried eyes.

“Lyubimyy, your leg,” Ilya choked out.

“Just hurts like a bitch, but I’m okay.” Shane tried to manage a smile but Ilya wasn’t even looking at his face anymore. The had reached some large cargo bay door to the outside. Shane could feel the humidity change in the air.

“Only family can go in the ambulance,” one of the medics explained over Shane’s head. He frowned.

“Ilya is-“

“It is fine,” Ilya said slowly. He stopped moving with the stretcher and Shane began to panic as he left his field of vision.

“Ilya?”

“I will go to the hospital with your dad, Shane. Your mom is right here.”

Shane tried to twist his neck again but was once again blocked by the board. He wanted them to give him the concussion review so he could take the damn thing off and move his head.

“Right here, baby,” Yuna crooned from somewhere to his right.

Shane sucked in a deep breath and did his best to nod. “Okay. Okay,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “Drive safe.”

David laughed, somewhere behind him and to the left. “Of course, son. We’ll see you soon.”

In the back of the ambulance, Yuna softly explained to her son what they’d seen from their seats in the Detroit arena. Shane had been chasing the pass that J.J. had missed. From behind, Comeau had shoved one of Detroit’s wingers straight into Shane. That player had been what hit his leg from the outside, shoving him off course and sending his knee slamming to the ice. Shane had laid flat out on the ice for about two seconds before the Hollander family began to vacate their seats to make It to the lower levels of the stadium and find him when they took him off the ice.

He thought about Comeau and where he had been on the ice and whether he would be able to find a clip online if he had his phone as they unloaded him from the ambulance and took him back immediately. He’d had an MRI before, so he knew that even though they didn’t need to inject any contrast dye this time, he’d spend a lot of time inside the machine. The nurses tried to offer him headphones or music but he waved them off. The machine was loud, but it was rhythmic and consistent in a way Shane knew from experience would put him right to sleep.

He stared up at the inside of the big white tube and tried not to think about Ilya waiting, about Ilya not being allowed into the ambulance, about whether or not Ilya would have even been allowed into the hospital to see him if his parents hadn’t been there.

Shane fell asleep inside the machine but it was not a restful sleep.

They must have let him stay asleep because when he opened his eyes he was in a patient room. It took a few blinks for his eyes to adjust and see his parents sitting along the wall, his mom’s head resting on his dad’s shoulder. Ilya was on his other side, chair pulled up to the bed and his chin rested on his hand.

“Mmmm,” Shane grumbled. Ilya’s eyes darted to his face.

“Hello, sleeping beauty.” Ilya gave him a small smile and reached out a hand to grab Shane’s on the bed.

“Ilyaaaa,” Shane said with a grin. “I am not on as many drugs as the last time this happened.”

Ilya snorted. “No, you are not. You also have no head injury, yeah?”

“Yeah, they ran me through concussion check. Just normal hockey player brain up there.”

“Nothing about your brain is normal, lyubimyy,” Ilya said.

 “Has the doctor been in since my scan?”

Ilya shook his head. “No, you have not been out that long. Radiologist is looking at images still.”

“We figured we’d only wake you up once they were ready,” Yuna supplied softly from her chair across the room. Shane turned his head to smile at his parents.

“Sorry for the scare,” he managed.

David flapped his hand dismissively. “Don’t be sorry son, you didn’t do anything wrong. Just keeping us on our toes.”

“The game,” he asked finally. Dad shook his head, slowly.

“No, Detroit scored twice. Couldn’t answer.”

Shane sighed as he let his head flop back to the bed. Montreal was down 1-2 on the series. With one more game to play in Detroit that’s they’d likely lose, there was no way Montreal was making it out without taking the series to seven games.

“Fuck,” Shane whispered. Mostly under his breath, but Ilya clearly caught it. He frowned.

“Their loss is not your fault. If anything, Comeau has signed the Voyager’s death warrant himself,” Ilya huffed.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Shane said quickly. There was a tightness in his chest that had nothing to do with his injury. There was just no way he could come to terms with the fact he’d finished his time in a Montreal jersey inside a hospital in fucking Detroit.

“Okay,” Ilya agreed reluctantly. He squeezed Shane’s hand. “We will not talk about it.”

“Thank you,” Shane managed before letting his head fall back again.

They spent several minutes in silence before there was a soft knock at the door and a head peaked in.

“Mr. Hollander? Are you ready to take a look at your images?”

“Yeah, come in,” Shane croaked. He lifted his head to take a look at the doctor. She was a tall woman, broad shoulders, and dark red hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. She had a small tablet tucked under her arm as she entered the room fully and approached his bed.

“I’m Dr. Williams. I know it’s been a long day, so I’ll try to get you out of here as soon as possible.” She opened the tablet and held the screen towards Shane.

“So, what I’m seeing in your knee is a small tear here, in the MCL,” Dr. Williams said as she gestured towards the right side of the screen. “It’s considered a grade 2 tear. That means the muscle supporting the inside of your knee is superficially torn; no deep tissue tears, but your knee is pretty unstable and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re in some pain right now.”

Shane nodded wordlessly as he tried to make sense of the image in front of him. He couldn’t really tell if anything was torn or not. “What does recovery look like?”

She smiled at him. “The good news is that I don’t think you need surgery. Typically, a grade two tear like this is completely managed by using crutches for a few weeks and then moving to a knee brace to help stabilize the knee. With physical therapy and attention to the injury, you’d be cleared for full activity probably after two months.”

Shane deflated slightly at the prognosis. Ilya reached out to grab at his hand, which Shane squeezed in thanks. He knew his season was over, but to hear it officially from the doctor still stung.

“That’s, uh, that’s good. Thank you,” Shane managed.

“No surgery really is wonderful, honey,” Yuna offered.

“Long term, I expect you to regain full function of your knee. Once you’re healed up, everything should be good as new,” Williams added. “If you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer them, but otherwise, we can start to work on getting you discharged so you can get home. We’ll get you a brace to keep your knee aligned and some crutches and you should be good to go.”

David and Yuna left the room with Dr. Williams to help handle the discharge paperwork and getting his aids. Ilya squeezed his hand again once the door shut softly behind them.

“I know is hard, to not play,” Ilya said slowly. “But I am glad it is not worse. You will have all offseason to get stronger and be ready for fall.”

Shane nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” he scoffed. “I am still sorry. I will kill Comeau for you if you ask.”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

Ilya shrugged. “Seems worth the trouble.”

Shane laughed and took a deep breath. “Thank you, Ilya.”

“Of course, lyubimyy.” Ilya stood to lean over and kiss Shane’s forehead. Absently, Shane realized that Ilya had his prosthetic on. With the fiasco of leaving the game and dealing with the hospital, it must have been the longest he’d ever worn it continuously. Shane’s stomach dropped when he realized he probably shouldn’t be so upset about a minor tear in his knee when Ilya was right in front of him.

Everyone had expected the news but Montreal was not happy to hear the news about Shane’s knee. Theriault tersely told Shane to rest and recover over the phone before hanging up immediately. Hayden and J.J. called him from the hotel as soon as he sent them a group text about being discharged.

“Shane, I’m so sorry,” Hayden started.

“What do you have to be sorry for,” Shane said with a sigh. He was sitting in the hotel room that Ilya had booked, his parents just next door. He hadn’t wanted to go back to the team hotel.

“I could talk a lot about how we could have cleared the ice better but mostly I’m sorry that Comeau is an asshole and we didn’t do something sooner.”

He bristled. “It was an accident. I was just in the way. Comeau is a douche but it’s not like this is his fault.”

“He is an idiot but he is a better player than that. I am not so sure that it was an accident,” J.J. said. His voice was low and angrier than Shane had ever heard it.

“Guys, I really don’t want to do this,” Shane said with a sigh.

“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry, man. I just hate this.” Hayden sounded more sad than anything else.

“I do not want to play more stupid games in this series with you,” J.J. added.

“You guys still have a shot,” he protested. Albeit weakly.

It was the boys’ turn to laugh. “Yeah right, capitaine. We will play hard but I think this is the end of the line for us.”

Shane couldn’t find any words he wanted to say. All he could think was it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Well, I’ll be cheering. So at least try. I love you guys.”

“We love you too, man,” Hayden responded. No hesitation.

“Of course we do!”

Shane smiled and said his goodbyes before flopping backwards on the bed.

Ilya peaked out from where he sat on the closed toilet in the bathroom, massaging lotion into his scars. “J.J. is right. Detroit will win next two.”

Shane scowled. “Can we not do this tonight?”

“Of course, moya dusha.”

Ilya had agreed and he was true to his word but Shane was still so frustrated he couldn’t sleep that night.

Ilya was right. Yuna, David, Shane, and Ilya, watch games four and five of the series in the Hollander’s home in Ottawa. Montreal lost both games by at least two. Ilya refrained from explicitly cheering for Detroit but he did not particularly fight to keep his glee hidden. Shane scowled through both games. Hayden and J.J. insisted that they were okay, that they were ready for the reason to be over and that they were tired of being in the locker room.

Shane still almost cried when game five ended and the Voyagers left the ice.

“How long do I have before Montreal really starts pushing for trade info?” He had spoken to no one in particular, in the silence after the game ended. Still, Yuna was ready.

“I anticipate them to reach out in the next week. They probably won’t apply any real pressure until after the Finals and all teams are done playing. Waiting that long might not be your best interest, though.” She added the last bit quickly, like she wanted to remind Shane that he needed to move quickly.

He nodded. “Okay. I’ll try to get my thoughts sorted this week.”

Yuna hummed. “No need to rush honey. But if you need any help, we’re all here.”

David and Yuna got up to clean the kitchen and close up for the night. Ilya slide closer to Shane on the couch and leaned over to rest his head on Shane’s shoulder.

“We should go to the cottage.”

Shane blinked a few times. Typically, he was ready for the end of the season to bring long days at the cottage and some time unplugged with Ilya. This year, he hadn’t thought about the cottage once.

“I haven’t even thought about it. We’ll need to move some of your adaptions over, and-“

“I will be fine in the cottage,” Ilya said. He patted the shin of his prosthetic. “Getting good these days. But we can make sure we have everything we need.”

Shane bit his lip. “I’m going to have a lot to do and wrap up in Montreal. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea.”

Ilya whined lightly. “Just a few days to rest. Then we can do whatever you want. But I want to relax at our house, Shane.”

And how was Shane supposed to argue with that?

They didn’t waste much time. They said goodbye to Yuna and David and went to sleep at Ilya’s house. First thing in the morning, Shane got and started packing their bags. He moved a bit slower on crutches than he would have otherwise, but they really only needed clothes. Everything else they’d need was already at the cottage. Ilya placed an online grocery order to be delivered right before they set out for the cottage and prepped the coolers for it all to go in. At Shane’s insistence, Ilya put his folding wheelchair in the back of the car, and his own crutches. Ilya refused to let Shane carry any bags, so he loaded those too once Shane had finished packing.

Shane had instinctively moved to the driver’s side of the car when Ilya clicked his tongue at him. “No, leg still not ready.”

He frowned. “But-“

“No buts, Hollander. I drive.”

Ilya had driven since the accident. It had been a more recent development, once he was taking fewer medications and felt more stable. He’d driven around Ottawa, back and forth from his house and Shane’s parents’ house, to the rink. Shane knew he was okay to drive. It was just that Shane had always been the one to drive to and from the cottage. It felt to wrong to not be behind the wheel.

He didn’t have much room to argue, so he crutched around the car to the passenger seat and slid in. Ilya kissed his cheek, took the crutches to throw in the back seat, and shut his door. He rounded the car and sat down behind the wheel.

“We will be home soon.”

They were quiet for most of the drive, but fell into the easy routine of unpacking the car and opening up the house when they got to the cottage. They hadn’t been there in several months, so Shane did what he could to freshen up the place before Ilya insisted he sat down on the couch or at the table or on the bed and did it himself.

When the groceries were put away and their bags were unpacked, Ilya made a quick lunch and they sat on the back porch to eat and look at the water.

“The water is still freezing,” Shane said with a sideways glance at Ilya.

He guffawed. “I did not even say anything!”

“I know you were thinking about swimming.”

Ilya hummed softly. “Maybe. I was mostly thinking about how I do not know how well I will be able to swim this year.”

Shane swallowed around a lump in his throat. “I didn’t even think about that,” he admitted.

“There are many things that come up that I did not think of,” Ilya said with a shrug. “Just lots to learn.”

“Do you think it will ever stop?” The question was out before Shane could really think.

“Yes and no.” Ilya paused for several moments. “Eventually it will feel normal. But always there will be new things and I will have to learn how to handle, without doing it the, ah, normal way.”

“You’re so incredibly strong,” Shane whispered. He reached over the table to grab Ilya’s wrist. “I love you, so much.”

“I love you too,” Ilya said with a smile.

“Thank you, for getting me out here.” Shane wanted it to sound more sincere. He meant it so deeply that he knew there was no way it could come across the way he wanted it to.

“Was not that hard, really. You like it here.”

“It’s true. It’s my favorite, especially with you.”

They spent the rest of the day lazing around the house. Dinner was a relaxed affair. Shane had suggested sitting out by the fire, like they had when Ilya had first visited the cottage. Instead, Ilya insisted they go down to the home gym. Ilya did his normal exercise and helped Shane through his basic PT movements he’d been prescribed for the first week and a half until he went back in to see his physical therapist.

It was only when they went to shower afterwards that Shane realized they hadn’t packed Ilya’s shower chair from the Ottawa house. Ilya pulled a stool in from the kitchen for Shane to sit on, then insisted that Shane let him wash his hair. Shane tried to protest, but as soon as the warm water and Ilya’s fingers were on his scalp, it was easy to let it happen.

After Ilya had rinsed and toweled them both off, they both pulled on loose boxers to sleep and crawled into bed and rolled over to face each other.

“Ilya,” Shane said softly. There was no real reason to whisper but it didn’t feel like the kind of conversation he could have at full volume or with the lights on.

“Is it time to talk, lyubimyy?”

“I think so.”

Ilya let out a slow breath. “Lots of teams have cap space or would make it for you. Where do you want to go?”

Shane couldn’t help but laugh. “Svetlana said exactly the same thing to me.”

“Well, she is typically right about these things,” Ilya said.

“Yeah, she is. I told here I had no idea.” Shane chewed at the inside of his cheek. He’d thought lots about the conversation they’d had, but hadn’t really let himself think about the next steps.

“You can have whatever you want. What do you want, Shane?”

“That’s not fair,” he protested softly. “You have an offer too.”

Ilya squeezed his eyes shut. “Yes, this is true. I don’t think it’s quite the same.”

“Fuck that. What you want is important too.”

“I do not have quite as many options.”

“What do you want, though, Ilya?”

“I want to be with you,” he said simply. “I want to be with the Centaurs and coach and make sure my boys get the support they need. I want you to play on a team that loves you and supports you and respects you. I want to live together in my house with a big yard and put a dog in that yard and spoil it. I want to make good hockey happen together and win the cup and maybe learn how to skate again. I want to marry you, Shane Hollander. And I will do whatever you want, but I want you here.”

The room was only lit by the moon coming through the window but Shane lost what visibility he had when his eyes filled with tears. He smashed his face into Ilya’s chest and clutched at his shoulders as he tried to remember how to breath.

“You really want all of that,” he mumbled into Ilya’s skin.

“Of course, lyubimyy.” Ilya pressed his cheek to the top of Shane’s head but was otherwise incredibly still. Shane wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing.

“Okay. Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

Ilya startled. His arms tightened around Shane briefly, then he pulled back to look at his face. “Really?”

Shane let out a small laugh. “You sound surprised.”

“It’s just, you are normally one with big plans. I did not think that would work,” he admitted.

“It sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” Shane said. “You really want to get married?”

“Yes, obviously. Quickest way to be a Canadian citizen, yes?”

Shane pushed at Ilya’s shoulder. “Asshole.”

Ilya grinned. “Yes. You love it.”

“I do,” he sighed.

“Good. We can get married and be the first husbands to win the cup together and we can get a dog and be boring Canadians together.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Chapter End Notes

this chapter was even less proofread than the others (loooooow bar) because i kept trying to add and change things and it was getting worse. just emotional about being so close to the end here.

thanks for coming along on this ride with me! your comments have been so wonderful lately, and i'm so glad you're all here to close this out with me. we'll have a tooth rottingly sweet epilogue coming soon.

Chapter 23: epilogue

Chapter Notes

Shane knew that Ilya loved spectacles and parties. His gut instinct was to plan the most outrageous wedding that Canada had ever seen so Ilya could have absolutely everything he wanted. Shane could consult with a wedding planner but between him and Yuna he was sure that they could handle it.

It turned out that what he and Ilya really wanted more than anything was to be married quickly.

So they threw the most outrageous wedding ever out the window and focused on what they could make happen in two and a half months.

Shane still wasn’t quite sure how he ended up in his bedroom at the cottage, peaking out the curtain towards a small crowd of people mingling in the backyard the first weekend of August. Well, he knows that he meticulously followed his physical therapy routine until he was back to normal function and had a few full solo skate practices on the ice. He hadn’t wanted to do anything before he was back to full function and Ilya wanted more time building up his stamina with his prosthetic. Still, they wanted a little bit of time to disappear on a honeymoon of sorts before training camp started in September. So, early August.

They’d looked at venues around Ottawa, in surrounding suburbs, had even thrown out the Canadian Tire Center before Ilya had quietly asked if Shane would be willing to invite people to the cottage.

“I know that it is a private place,” he’d said one night. They had been curled up on the couch, Shane tucked under Ilya’s arm and an absentminded hand in his hair.  “But is very comfortable, and private, and feels like us?”

Shane couldn’t help but turn to burrow into Ilya’s chest to hide a wide smile. “Yeah, baby, I think that sounds perfect.”

“We could get married on the dock. Water behind us will make for pretty pictures.”

“Who do you want to invite? Do we have space,” Shane asked, already imagining how many chairs they could set up before the hill got too steep.

Ilya scoff. “Cottage is very big, Shane. You have a very silly definition of what a cottage is.” He paused though as he took Shane’s question in. “The Centaurs, yes? Your parents, Rose, Sveta. The Pikes and their driver.”

Shane’s nose scrunched up in confusion. “Driver?”

“Hayden, obviously. Is why Jackie keeps him around.”

Shane rolled his eyes and thumped his head against Ilya’s chest once. “Whatever, jerk.”

Ilya shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it. But he is invited.”

“Thanks,” Shane huffed. “Cliff? Any of the Bears?”

He nodded. “Yes, a few I think would come. We could invite Kip and his old man husband.”

“Scott isn’t really that old,” Shane protested. They’d had this argument before. He knew it was pointless, but he felt he needed to defend Hunter, especially after he’d reached out.

“Whatever. He can come even though he is not spring chicken like us,” Ilya said with a huff.

“There’s maybe a few more people, but I think everyone would fit at the cottage,” Shane whispered after a moment. “The water would look pretty.”

Shane felt Ilya’s smile where his cheek rested on the top of his head. “Then let’s do it at the cottage.”

So maybe Shane knows exactly how he ended up in a dark blue suit in their room at the cottage in early August with absolutely everyone important in their lives milling outside in the backyard.

“We’re not far off, son. You feeling okay?” David hovered in the doorway, his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

“Yeah, nothing can go wrong at this point.”

David laughed. “Of course nothing is going wrong. But are you excited?”

Shane let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, Dad. I’m excited.”

“I’m happy for you, Shane. Really, really happy.” He’s not really sure if he moved or if his dad moved, but suddenly they were hugging. Shane laid his head down so it rested on his dad’s shoulder and he took a huge, stuttering inhale and let it squeeze out slowly.

“This is real, right?”

David pulled back only far enough to look at his son’s face. “Yes, very real.”

“It’s hard to believe,” Shane admitted. “I didn’t think we’d ever get this.”

David swiped at his face and sniffed. “Don’t get started on that. You’re here now and I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Shane hugged his dad one more time before they headed out to the edge of the lake together.

They’d decided to forego any resemblance of a traditional wedding party or processional. However, by the nature of Shane being intently ready to start on time and Ilya relishing in a flair for the dramatic, Shane was waiting at the water’s edge when Ilya escorted Yuna out of the house towards the ceremony. He knew that Ilya had quietly spent many afternoons walking back and forth from the cottage to the lake to make sure he could confidently make it over the uneven ground.

They’d spent the entire summer at the cottage and Ilya’s hair was even brighter than normal. His curls flashed in the sunlight. His suit was a lighter blue, almost the color of his eyes. He didn’t have a tie on, and his white undershirt had a few buttons undone, but Shane wouldn’t have it any other way. He looked absolutely gorgeous.

Ilya flashed smiles at the guests as he walked Yuna right up to the front row of chairs to where David waited for her. He kissed Yuna on the cheek, then David, before he turned to face Shane and his smile grew even wider.

They had talked about asking someone in their lives to officiate the ceremony. At the end of the day, there wasn’t anyone who was the perfect combination of the both of their lives that would be a good fit. Plus, the day was relaxed and they wanted every one of their guests to get to be just guests. So they found a marriage commissioner online, Shauna, who looked kind and had officiated gay weddings before. She’d arrived precisely on time, had been all warm smiles and professionalism, and seemed excited to be a part of the ceremony.

Shauna stood waiting a little ahead of the crowd of guests who had gathered at the edge of the lake. Ilya held his hand out to Shane and they moved to join her. Ilya was already grinning.

“Thank you all for being here today,” Shauna began. “I believe we’re keeping it quite simple, but I have spent some time talking to Shane, and Ilya, and several of the guests here today, and I do think there are some important things to say.”

“It is incredibly easy to enjoy someone’s company when life is good. When things are happening just as you expect and hope for, we are happy and kind and full of good intentions. It is not hard to think that you can tie your life to someone else’s when you are in the good days.

“When life is hard, it’s easy to be dejected and mean and pessimistic. When you have experienced some of the things that Shane and Ilya have, it is easy to think the world is cold and evil and to let yourself be soured.

“A strong relationship is one in which you can hold each other just as tight through the hard times as the good. Shane and Ilya have been weathering the storm together for quite some time. It has not been easy. But they have dedicated time and love and effort to each other and their loved ones. That is the sign of good people and a good foundation in which we are here today to celebrate.

“They’ve put in the work to get us here, to this point. Where we can all celebrate their love and their union. It’s easy for us to show up and have a party. They’ve fought to give us a reason to be here and our job is to send them gently forward into a new chapter where they take everything side by side, the good and the bad.”

Ilya’s lips were pushed together in a close-lipped smile; by the way his bottom lip stuck out ever so slightly to almost fold it down into a frown, Shane could tell that his own eyes were at the point that looked like tears would spill over at any second. He blinked a few times to try to hold them back. He knew what came next.

“Shane and Ilya have written their own vows today. I’m told that there was an elaborate competition to determine who would go first,” Shauna said with a chuckle. She turned to face Shane and gave him a small nod. “Shane?”

He took in a deep breath and squeezed Ilya’s hands. “I have not historically been any good at putting my feelings into words. Especially when it mattered. But I knew this was coming, and I had time to practice, and I don’t want any part of this to be misunderstood.

“Ilya, I love you more than I could have ever expected. Maybe I should have known that you would always wreck my expectations when I was trying to find you in the rink in Regina and I had a whole introductory speech planned and when you were smoking right outside the door, I couldn’t help but be derailed.”

Someone in the audience snorted.

“For a long time, I did not think that we would get this. I told myself that I was content to have you in bits and pieces, stolen moments in hotel rooms and our apartments and the cottage when we could manage the time off. I hoped that I would at least get to call you a friend and not have to pretend to treat you live a rival every time we crossed paths at a league event. I was ready to take scraps.

“Now that I have been given you in full, I won’t ever let go. Can’t. I love you so completely. I love the life we are building. Everything has been worth it to get to this point and I am an incredibly lucky man in that I will get to have many more years with you. I will spend the rest of my life loving you and taking care of you and letting you take care of me. I’ll make sure everyone I meet knows that every good thing I do is because of you. And I’ll try to win some hockey games for you too. Ya tebya lyublyu, Ilya.”

Shane knows he had taken breaths somewhere in the middle of his vows but he didn’t remember actually doing it. He let his shoulders sag slightly with a forced exhale before he squeezed Ilya’s hands and met his gaze.

Ilya looked close to tears. He tipped his head back slightly and shook his head, his curls bouncing with the movement. Shane was mesmerized. How could he not be?

Shauna tipped her head slightly at Shane before she shifted to face Ilya. “Ilya?”

Ilya moved his head to look at Shane and squeezed his hands, tight. “I did not think I would cry yet, sorry. I am okay, I promise.”

“Shane Hollander,” Ilya said with all the affection he could have possibly have poured into the name. “I have loved you for a very long time. I knew that I loved you in all the cheesy sentimental ways that everyone knows means love. Even if we were funny about showing it, sometimes.

“But I know that more than anything I want more time with you. All time with you. Because, uh,” Ilya paused to sniff and clear his throat. “Because when I thought it was over, all I could think about was you and the time I would be missing with you.

“I am incredibly lucky that I get more time with you, Shane. I do not want to waste a minute. I want everyone to know that you are my husband and that I love you. I want safe, boring life with you in boring Ottawa doing boring, old man things. I will make sure you are comfortable and safe and happy and loved. You will always be so loved, lyubimyy.”

Shane squeezed his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay. He wanted to kiss Ilya so badly, he wanted to press his forehead into Ilya’s chest, he wanted to wrap his arms around him and not let go. They just weren’t at that part of the ceremony yet.

“Do you have the rings,” Shauna asked gently. Shane nodded as he blinked a few times and reached into his pocket for the small box.

They’d picked simply gold bands that matched. They’d spent an entire afternoon in a jewelry store together, making suggestions for each other and collecting options they liked. Ilya had considered several with inlaid stones or more ornate decoration, but at the end of the day, his heart was set on matching Shane’s.

They were nestled next to each other in the box. Shane held it out so Ilya could take one. He grabbed the other and slipped the box back into his pocket.

“Ilya, if you will repeat after me, please.” Shane knew that Shauna was feeding Ilya the phrase bit by bit, but he could only hear Ilya.

“I call upon these persons here present to witness that I, Ilya Rozanov, do take you, Shane Hollander, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to laugh with you in joy, to grieve with you in sorrow, to grow with you in love, to be faithful to you alone, as long we both shall live.”

Shauna turned to Shane. “Do you accept?”

“I do,” Shane choked out.

“Shane, if you will repeat after me, please,” Shauna said. Shane repeated the phrases dutifully, but he was so lost in watching Ilya’s face that he barely registered that he’d finished.

“Do you accept?”

“I do,” Ilya said, voice thick.

“Shane, please place the ring on Ilya’s finger and repeat after me,” Shauna led him again.

“Ilya, this ring symbolizes our union as husbands, for today, tomorrow, and all the years to come. Please wear it as a reminder of our love.” Shane slipped the ring onto the fourth finger of Ilya’s right hand.

They repeated the process with Ilya, his hands shaking as he put the ring on Shane’s left hand.

“May those who wear these rings live in love all of their days,” Shauna said. “May the strength of your relationship grow, may your love flower, may every day be as happy as today. On behalf of the guests gathered here today, I would like to wish the two of you a long life together that is filled with happiness, prosperity, and good hockey.”

The crowd laughed as Shauna winked at them.

“By the virtues of the power vested in me by the Marriage Act and the Province of Ontario, I hereby pronounce you Shane and Ilya to be officially wed. You may kiss your husband.”

It was like the trigger was pulled. They surged towards each other, hands gripped lapels and buried in hair and cradled the back of heads. Shane could vaguely hear laughs and hooting and hollering and clapping from their guests, but it didn’t matter. Ilya Rozanov was under his hands and his lips and they were married.

“Save something for the honeymoon,” someone shouted from the back.

“I am saving plenty, do not worry,” Ilya called back. That started another round of laughing as Shane and Ilya let their foreheads press together. Shane’s heart was hammering in his chest but he hadn’t ever smiled as wide as he did in that moment.

There were tables outside, food laid out to graze and eat easily as people mingled and talked and laughed. Shane and Ilya stayed glued to each other’s sides, hand in hand, so their wedding rings clinked softly against each other in the most pleasantly distracting way possible. Shane knew that they would likely not wear their rings every day, would transition to wearing them on chains so they would be easier to play with and not worry about, but it was nice. Nice to have such a physical reminder of where they were.

“Shane,” Ilya’s voice rumbled in his ear several hours after the ceremony. Some guests had left, but there was still a good number mingling in the space between the cottage and the edge of the water. The Centaurs rookies had proposed swimming at some point. A few stern looks from Wyatt and Bood had stopped them from shedding clothes and jumping in, to Shane’s relief. He made a note to invite the team over to swim some other time.

“What is it, babe?”

“I think it is time, yes? Mom sent me a good one.”

Shane sucked in a breath. He’d almost forgotten the plan. “Let me see.”

Ilya held out his phone to show Shane the screen. It was a photo of the two of them, taken just after they’d signed the actual marriage license. Sunlight glistened off the lake behind them. They were facing each other, hands clasped together, faces in profile. It reminded Shane of all of pictures of them taking face offs against each other, except there was nothing but love and affection on their faces in this one.

“It’s a good picture,” Shane said. He tipped his head to lay on Ilya’s chest. Ilya wrapped one arm around him and hummed.

“I will attach and post. Still okay?” Ilya sounded hesitant. As if after all of this, Shane would change his mind or back out or want to revise the plan.

“Yeah, okay. It’s time.” Shane pressed a kiss to the side of Ilya’s neck.

“Wait, let me do this, then you can keep doing that.” He couldn’t even see Ilya’s face, but Shane knew Ilya was wiggling his eyebrows.

“Better hurry up then. Maybe no one will notice if we go inside?”

“Oh, Shane Hollander, you are hilarious. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Ilya.”

@realilyarozanov and @shanehollander24

Today has been years in the making. Thanks to our friends and family for gathering to celebrate with us. Here’s to many more years together. There’s nothing more rewarding than being loved by you.

Chapter End Notes

we reached the end! everyone is happy and the hockey husbands are husbands and they will bring many many awards and accolades home to ottawa. yay! :)

it's possible that i will go through and proofread some of this better (whoops) and make minor edits. however, this is the end of our journey. i don't anticipate any more story out of this version of the boys but there are certainly other versions of them that i am already writing/will likely write if you're interested in sticking around.

thank you so much for sticking around to the end of this journey with me! whether you've been here since the beginning or just read this in one go, it means so much to me. i have been a member of fandom spaces for a very long time but this is the first time i've put my writing out there to be viewed by others in over a decade. mostly, there was a large chunk of time where i wasn't writing anything, or only making it a partial chapter in before abandoning a project for some reason or another. the reception to this story has been such a balm to the heart and pushed me to make it to the end. i truly cannot express how thankful i am for you. remember to continue to contribute to the fandom spaces and art that you enjoy and spread the love to all the creators you appreciate.