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When an accident on the ice leaves Shane fighting for his life, Ilya tries to keep it together when facing the prospect of losing the love of his life before they got the chance to really live. Shane had been hit with a puck before, usually brushing it off with the knowledge that he would be sporting a hell of a bruise for a while. Which was why it felt so strange to him that he couldn’t hear Hayden talking to him after taking a slapshot to the center of his chest. He tried to reassure his friend that he was okay, but the world turned off instead. Ilya couldn’t breathe. It was one of the few times in the game that he was on the bench, without being in the penalty box, and he had seen the puck collide into his boyfriend’s chest. He had winced in sympathy, but had been too concerned. That changed when Hollander had wobbled, then collapsed to the ice without doing anything to stop his fall. Hayden’s lunge forward was the only thing that stopped Shane’s face from slamming into the ice. Out of the corner of his eye, Ilya saw the medics starting to head for the ice, and everything started spinning when Hayden started doing chest compressions with panic on his face. “Folks, please stay in your seats to keep all aisles clear for the medics.” Came over the loudspeaker as Ilya tried to fight against Troy’s restraining arms. They both knew the request to keep the aisles clear meant a catastrophic injury. Hayden was being pushed away by one of the refs, giving the medics room to work, and the other man sent a horrified look at the benches that Ilya knew was for him. Ilya couldn’t have stopped the sob that left him if he had wanted to when a medic cut Hollander’s jersey open, followed by the shoulder pads that had done little to protect his chest. Thankfully for their secret, no one in the now silent area seemed to care or be doing much better. Pads for the shock-thing that Ilya could never remember the name of were slapped on Hollander’s bare chest, and everyone in the stands and benches waited with bated breath as it spoke. Ilya gave up pretending to be okay when the machine recommended a shock, and dropped his head into his folded arms on the half wall separating them from the ice. He could feel Troy rubbing his back, and only lifted his head high enough to see when a medic yelled clear. A whimper left him as the love of his life jerked on the ice, and he sobbed openly when he heard another medic report that there was a heartbeat. Things moved even faster after that. “Looks like the medics are getting ready to move Hollander off the ice, so we ask everyone to remain in their seats. We are getting information that the rest of the game is going to be postponed and rescheduled to a later date. The current score and stats will be carried over.” The Centaur's coach started herding the players from the bench and into the locker room, but Ilya refused to move from his seat, his eyes glued to his boyfriend's still form. Weibe finally made his way over to gently grab onto the back of Ilya’s neck. “The sooner we get you changed, the sooner you can get to him.” Weibe whispered, giving his neck a paternal squeeze despite barely being old enough to be Ilya’s father. By that time, the medics were moving Shane off the ice, so Ilya gave in to the advice and left the bench. They hadn’t meant to come out the entire Centaurs roster, but they had decided to show up unannounced at Ilya’s Ottawa home while the couple was in the shower. It was too difficult to explain away, so they went with the truth and were pleasantly surprised when it was relatively well received. None of them had cared that they were interested in men, though coming to grips with the fact that the two biggest rivals in the NHL were a committed couple took a little longer. It had been a huge relief to both Shane and Ilya in different ways. For Ilya, it meant a place where he didn’t have to hide how much he loved his boyfriend, and for Shane, it was hope that things might not be that bad once they went public. The only change was the teasing Rozanov got about using the rivalry as flirtation and foreplay. He’d never been more thankful for the unintentional outing than that moment. The moment he walked through the locker room doors, hands were there to help strip him out of his gear. He followed their instructions on autopilot, too numb with fear to do anything else. It took less than five minutes to have him stripped, pushed into the shower, dried off, and dressed. When he was pushed out of the locker room with well-wishes and assurances that they would meet him at the hospital as soon as they could, David Hollander was waiting for him. “I didn’t think you’d be in any shape to drive.” Shane’s father told him, taking Ilya’s keys from limp hands. “Are you?” Ilya found himself asking quietly. “Not really, but I can pretend for a bit.” David admitted, and Rozanov followed him silently out to the parking lot. He was a little surprised Yuna wasn’t there, but assumed that she had gone in the ambulance with her son. The Russian was thankful he had driven his sensible car to the game, since he wasn’t sure either one could drive a high-performance sports car in their state, and spent the drive to the hospital in near silence. He gripped onto his mother’s crucifix hard, muttering prayers in Russian that he had never claimed to believe in. Begging not to lose Shane like he had lost his mother. “What happened?” He finally asked, breaking the silence. “His heart…fine before.” English was being difficult as his mind raced in panicked circles, forgetting words other than those in his native language. His accent was more pronounced as well, and he felt like that seventeen- year-old visiting Canada for the first time nearly a decade ago. “We don’t know.” David admitted, nearly as softly. It made Ilya fight back terrified tears. “His heart stopped, we know that, just not why. But it was beating normally when they got him to the ambulance.” It was something. Knowing that Shane’s heart was beating again made it feel like Ilya could breathe again. They pulled into the first parking spot they saw and both rushed out of the car. David was through the door immediately, but Ilya hesitated. As long as he was outside, as long as no one told him that something had gone wrong, his Hollander was fine. He was alive. He could still love Ilya back. Yuna walking out ruined the pretense, and he braced himself for bad news. “Shane’s okay, Ilya. He’s fine and starting to wake up.” She told the young man she had started to claim as her own. The relief that flowed through Rozanov made his knees shake, and he had to force himself to stay upright so Yuna could get him inside. She walked him past the check-in desk, and Ilya realized that meant that Shane was already in a room. “Hey.” Shane said with a tired smile when he saw Ilya, who immediately made his way to the bed and gently rested his forehead against the other man’s. “Never do that to me again, Hollander.” He murmured in Russian, which had Shane reaching up to cup the back of Ilya’s head to keep him there for a moment.
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