Summary:

The words start spilling out faster than he can think them, a desperate spew of apologies and half-explanations through ragged gasps, vision blurry at the edges. “I swear, I didn’t know. I would have told you, I wouldn’t have—” Shane cuts himself off with a sob. “With my suppressants, I shouldn’t even be able to get—” “You are pregnant,” Ilya says, his dark eyes unreadable. Shane just closes his eyes. “I was.” An alternate version of Shane's accident on the ice.