Summary:

Montreal tried to get Shane Hollander back. Shane and Ilya laughed, stayed married, and won anyway. Montreal realizes they want Shane Hollander back the same way people usually realize irreversible things: too late, through a screenshot, with a sense of dread they can’t quite justify. The photo is innocuous. Shane and Ilya in Ottawa, post-practice, arms slung around each other, Shane mid-laugh like happiness is no longer something he has to ration. Someone captions it culture matters. The replies are feral. Ilya notices first. “They follow you again,” he says mildly, scrolling. Shane squints at his phone. “Who?” “Montreal.” Shane blinks then barks out a laughs, “Oh my god. That’s hilarious.” They don’t start with a call or an apology or an acknowledgment of Shane's contribution. No, they start with interest; Likes on old photos, A vague article about unfinished business, A beat reporter using the word homecoming like it hasn’t already been poisoned. They don't come to Shane first, they go to the press, like they think peer pressure will make the offer taste sweeter. Shane reads headlines aloud like he’s doing a dramatic reading. “‘Sources say the organization has grown,’” he says. “Grown what? Regret?” Ilya hums. “They grow desperate.” The first email arrives a few days later. Shane opens it, reads one sentence, and hands his phone to Ilya. “They miss my leadership.” Ilya scrolls. “Do they miss apologizing?” “Nope.” “Then,” Ilya says, handing the phone back, “they miss the wrong thing.” Montreal escalates to an alarming degree. If Shane didn't know better, he'd think they actually wanted him back and not just the cup's he provided for them. Private calls, followed by carefully worded leaks, culminating in a handwritten letter that arrives in Ottawa like it expects gratitude. Shane opens it at the kitchen counter and dissolves into laughter. “They offered you the bigger closet,” he gasps. Ilya blinks. “They think I am movable.” “They think shelving fixes homophobia,” Shane wheezes. “I’m obsessed with how bad this is.” Ilya folds the letter neatly and drops it into recycling. “We are very happy,” he says calmly. “Somewhere else.” Ottawa, for their part, does not flinch. They know what they have and they know how to protect their own. They don't issue statements, no grovelling post's declaring how much they love Shane, they don't advertise that Shane's happy with them, they just let the fact's speak for themselves. They simply let him exist—loud, married, joyful—and the contrast does the work for them. Montreal’s locker room, however, implodes. Voyagers Group Chat: Jean-Luc: Ok, so this is officially bad right? Marc: This feels worse than bad Luc: The internet is calling it “aggressive flirting” Antoine: They sent him a LETTER Jean-Luc: I don’t get why he won’t even talk to management Hayden: Because the last time he talked, they told him to make his marriage disappear. Marc: That’s not how it was meant— Hayden: It’s how it landed. Antoine: They say they’ve changed Hayden: Did they apologize? Luc: …