Chapter Text
He checked his phone again. Ilya’s game ended over an hour ago- even on the busiest of nights he would respond by now. Something short, enough to let him know that he was safe and whole. Hayden flicked on the television and before the retort could even leave his mouth- he saw the headline. Ilya Rozanov hospitalized and believed to be in critical condition. Critical condition.
His phone clattered against the tile floor, the air rushed out of his lungs, and he grabbed at the wall- hoping it would keep him upright. Ilya. Alone. In Ottawa. And he was stuck in New York- an early morning flight back to Montreal. He scrambled for his phone and started to look for flights. He could leave tonight. He could get to Ilya before morning.
“Jesus Christ- that’s brutal. He got nicked–” Hayden pushed his own phone into his line of sight and he watched it happen, as if in slow motion. Ilya tumbled onto the ice, the other player tried to skid to a stop, the blade lodged itself…oh god. He was going to be sick. He pushed Hayden away and sprinted to the bathroom, before hurling his guts up and hearing his phone start to buzz.
Text after text after text. A quick look- his parents. His mother asked how quickly he could get to the airport- she’d found a flight leaving in an hour and a half and another leaving in three. His father told him that they were in the car and on the way. They’d be at the hospital in the next twenty minutes- maybe sooner. The announcement of the charity was one hell of a cover for them to be able to get to him, but there was no cover for what he was about to do. If he got on a plane tonight and sprinted back to Ilya…it didn’t matter. He had to get to him. Now.
“Shane, buddy- you good?”
“No. No, not at all. I have to go. I’ve got to get to Ottawa, get to…to him.”
“Rozanov? I know there’s the charity- but there’s nothing you can do…that kind of injury. He’s either in surgery or already–”
“Don’t. Don’t you fucking say it. He’ll be fine. He…he has to be fine. I need him to be…I just need him to be…”
His knees buckled. Hayden caught him as the sobs tore through him. How did he explain to his best friend what this was? What this well and truly was- when his entire life was hanging in a precious balance of if Ilya lived. He tried to force the words, tried to explain- but broken sobs were all that came out. Ilya Rozanov. Critical Condition. Ilya Rozanov. Critical. Ilya. ILYA.
“Okay. Okay, bud. I got you. We need to get you to the airport and get you to Ottawa. Shane- I can help, but you’ve got to pull it together.”
“I know…but I can’t…I can’t…I can’t lose. I can’t lose. I can’t lose HIM.”
He felt Hayden nod as he clung to him. He’d never lost it like this with anyone on the team- even after all these years Hayden had never seen this side of him. He was the calm, controlled captain to his team. He had systems in place, things to prevent this from ever happening when he was away from his family. His people. But now one of his people was in the hospital and no one could tell him what was wrong. No one would be able to tell him anything until he got to the hospital- if they let him in. If they let him see him. If he was still alive.
His phone rang and Hayden grabbed it from him, depositing him in a chair. He heard him talking with his mother, but he did not have the ability to realize what she must be saying as Hayden grew quiet. As his friend sat down next to him and pulled him in close, cradling him much like he cradled his children. He knew he had to calm down. He had to pull himself together to get on that plane and get to Ilya. But he was so scared. So very scared that he was flying back to only find out that Ilya had died when he landed. And right now- in this hotel room- Ilya was alive. He was in critical condition, but all the reporting said he was alive.
“Yeah- I’ll get him to the airport, get him checked in. We’ve got a driver that I can use, Yuna. I’ve just got to get him calm enough that no one will suspect…say that a grandparent passed away if anyone asks. Got it. I’ll get him moving.”
His grandparents were long dead- on both sides- but that would be enough to get by most members of the team. It would be enough to get him home and that was what had to happen. He could focus on one step at a time. Pack his bag. Get in the car. Get to the airport. Check In. Get through security. Board the plane. Monitor the news. Pray to whatever god might be listening that Ilya stayed alive. Deplane. Take a taxi to the hospital. He could do this. He could get back on his feet and do this. He forced himself to his feet and Hayden followed him- his hands grabbed his face and forced him to lock eyes with him.
“He’s your Lily. It’s why Boston Lily became Ottawa Lily.”
“Yeah. I…I never meant to lie to you for this long–”
“Shut it. I’d be a basket case if something happened to Jackie or the kids. And you’d get my ass to the airport to get to them. We’ve got time to talk about your relationship later, Shane. We don’t have a lot of time to get you where you need to be.”
He forced a nod and then Hayden let go and they both started moving. Him grabbing all the essentials to get through the airport, Hayden pulling together the logistics and informing the coaches he had an emergency. Luckily, they had a couple days off after this leg of the trip. It wasn’t much- but it would have to be enough. He would make it be enough.
Four hours later he stepped out into the blustery Ottawa winter. Ice slammed into his face as he jogged for his father’s familiar SUV. The messages that flooded his phone from his parents were careful, controlled. Like they knew that if they told him the truth that he would lose it on the plane. None of the media outlets had updated their reporting. He prayed it was not because they were waiting to contact next of kin.
“Dad…is he…”
“In surgery. He lost a lot of blood, but the blade didn’t…that skid kept it from being fatal. I don’t know what Hayden told your team- but they’ve said for you to take as long as you need.”
“Mom told him to say a grandparent died. Dad, he knows. Hayden knows and I didn’t have time to…”
“He told your mom that this secret is safe with him. That he didn’t think you’d heard him when he said it at the airport. Shane- let’s get you some sleep and then we can go to the hospital in the—”
“No. I need to be there. I need to be as close as–it’s where Ilya is and that is where I need to be.”
His father nodded as he pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic. He clenched and unclenched his fists- there was no way that people didn’t put this together. That their secret could continue to be a secret, but that didn’t matter. Ilya had been ready to tell the world since they’d started dating and now, in his terror, he was finally willing to as well. If only so that the world understood that he would always do this. He would fly to him, just like Ilya would burn the world down if something ever happened to him.
He managed some conversation with his dad, but none of it sank in. Now he had a new set of worries. Would he even be able to see Ilya? Would he be allowed to go into his hospital room? Could he stay with him? He needed to stay with him. They’d never changed their emergency contacts, never began the process for each other to be the other’s medical proxy. He thought they could wait until retirement. He was so wrong.
He followed his father into the hospital. It was the wee hours of the morning in Ottawa- he’d played a full game yesterday and been up for nearly 24 hours at this point. He was exhausted, but he needed to set eyes on Ilya before he let sleep take him. His father helped get the visitor’s pass, his exhaustion further lowering his ability to interact. And as they got into the elevator and he was recognized he had to force himself to be amicable. To act like he was not dying inside. He doubted that the fan realized that Ilya Rozanov was currently fighting for his life in some OR in this hospital. And even with two years of concerted effort, most fans still believed that they were lukewarm around each other at best.
“Mom…tell me…tell me that he–”
“All we can do is wait. Surgery is taking…he should have been out an hour ago, but that doesn’t mean much in the world of surgery.”
He nodded. Numb. He finally had gone numb. He settled next to his mother, his head landing on her shoulder as they waited. Exhaustion finally pulled him under. He’d made it and Ilya was still alive. His love was still here.
Ilya’s teammates filtered in, in the early hours of the morning- their looks of confusion turning to understanding as he alternated between forcing himself to drink coffee and silent tears streaming down his face. They knew he was out of surgery, but no one would let him get to Ilya. His emergency contact was still Svetlana and he’d tried to get in touch with her. He’d left a voicemail where he begged her to call and tell them that he was Ilya’s medical proxy until she could arrive. That had been over an hour ago.
“Shane Hollander?”
His eyes shot up and he scrambled out of his chair. The nurse motioned for him to follow and he moved as quickly as he could. He prayed that it was not because someone realized he was here and wanted an autograph. He was in no state to see fans and give autographs. Luckily, there were no fans and the nurse led him back to a hospital room.
“He’s still coming out of sedation and we have him on quite a cocktail of pain medications. Svetlana Vetrova has named you as his medical proxy, as she is unable to travel at this time. You can stay with him.”
He nodded. He took a step into the room and he froze. Wires and tubes were everywhere- machines beeped in an asynchronous rhythm. And Ilya. Ilya was so pale. The large bandage and drainage tubes from his neck made his knees weak. So close. This injury had come so close to taking Ilya away. He shook out his hands and then moved, he dragged the chair as close to the bed as possible. He took Ilya’s hand in his own as a broken sob ripped through him. Ilya was alive. The recovery might be brutal, but Ilya was alive. He dropped the rail to the bed and then snuggled in against Ilya’s side. The world be damned- he was not leaving Ilya’s side.
His eyes closed and sleep pulled him under once again. The adrenaline dump had long worn off and he’d stayed awake through willpower alone. Now his body demanded rest and he absolutely succumbed.
“Sh…Sh…Sh-ay-n.”
He shot up at the sound of his name, his eyes snapped up to see Ilya’s blue eyes open and staring at him. He threw his arms around him, pressed a kiss to Ilya’s temple and then rested his forehead there. He tried to find the words between the sobs. He tried to force something out, but all he could feel was the immense relief that Ilya was awake. He was alive. He would heal completely from this.
“Scared me…so much. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. I thought…I thought. I can’t lose you.”
“Lyubov…Lyubov moya. I…English is…”
“Shhh- I know, I know it’s too much. I don’t know that you should be talking with…with where. Fuck this was close, Ilya.”
The smallest of nods. He pressed a kiss to Ilya’s lips and then settled into his vigil. Ilya faded back off to sleep. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would deal with the aftermath of flying away to get to Ilya, but today. Today he would stay here. He would stay beside him, reassure him when he awoke, feed him when that was allowed, listen to whatever the doctors had to say so that they could nurse Ilya back to health as quickly as possible. He may have just blown up their entire world, but it was worth it. It was worth it to get to him and to prove to Ilya that he was the most important part of his life. And that he would never have to walk one of these lonely roads again.