Summary:

The brush off Shane received when he suggested Ilya try medication was hardly surprising to him. What he found shocking was that he had actually done it. Without telling Shane, no less. And if that wasn't startling enough, finding out the entire hockey community knew because of one ill-timed picture Cliff Marlow took practically knocked him off balance.
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“Who knew Rozanov would be the poster boy for Prozac?” Hayden muttered with a huff. “God, he’s gotta be floating on cloud nine with that dose. Normal people take like what, ten or twenty? Sixty must mean he was damn near suicidal.”

“Probably,” JJ agreed, shrugging. “I wouldn’t know, I don’t need to medicate myself to cope with life.”

“If he’s all doped up, how come he’s still always such an asshole?” one of the rookies questioned, earning a few laughs.

Shane just felt sick to his stomach. And angry. At his team and Marlow and mostly at himself. Ilya had done exactly what he asked and now, he was getting mocked for taking care of himself. In what world was that fair?

“Maybe that’s why he’s so aggressive on the ice,” another theorized. “He's trying to kill himself and take another player with him to make it look like an accident.”