Chapter Text
-&-
On day four, Shane finally heard back from Svetlana. He had tried to text her after the accident but all of his texts kept getting rejected. Given how often Svetlana traveled for work, Shane had half expected this.
He’ll need to get the rest of her numbers for the future.
“Hey Svetlana, are you back stateside?”
On the phone, Shane could hear her huffing as it sounded like she was walking. Maybe back to her apartment? “I am, I just got your messages. But I’ve been watching the news. It looks like some team members are released? Is Ilya-”
“Ilya is still here.” Shane said quickly.
He heard a clatter of keys, a swear in Russian, before he heard her again, “Right but he’s going to leave the hospital soon-”
“Are you inside? Are you somewhere where you can sit?”
Another round of silence. “Hollander, I do not like what you are saying.”
“Neither do I. But, are you inside?”
“I am, I am grabbing a drink and I will sit down for… whatever you have to tell me.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t sure what to text you and what you were seeing and when the texts weren’t coming through-”
“Hollander, I get it. I was having issues contacting you and with all the flights… we are here now though, right?”
“Right. Right, okay, uh, Ilya is in a coma.”
He could hear her gulp. “Okay, well coma patients wake up, when is he going to wake up?”
“He missed the first two expected wake-up windows. The next one is supposed to be tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Do you think he will wake up Hollander?” Svetlana asks quietly.
“I … I have hope he will. I mean, he’s gotta, right?”
“Right. Should I come now? I can book a flight and be there when he wakes up?”
Shane felt immediate relief, “Yes, please. I mean, I know they have Russian translators but I would feel a lot better, and I bet he would too, if you were there to help with translations. And you’re family. And I know he would want you there.”
“Yes. I will be there, I am looking at flights now.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, and Hollander? I really wished you had told me I did not need to come.” And with that she hung up the phone as Shane squeezed his eyes shut.
Blinking slowly, sniffling a bit, he wrote a text to Svetlana.
Shane: I can still be over reacting. Watch you come tomorrow and he throws a fit that I scared everyone.
Svetlana: I hope for that too.
-&-
Shane entered the hospital early the next day. He was feeling how uneasy he was settling into a routine with his parents. How effortlessly they moved in the hotel. His mom grabbed the snacks, His dad was in charge of beverages, and Shane always got the breakfast.
None of them were sleeping well in the hotel. Shane kept tossing and turning. His dad would snore. His mom would sneak into the bathroom to shower.
He once heard a wail.
Rubbing his eyes now, walking into the hospital he spotted two of the Centaurs players napping in the waiting area.
Shane looked over his shoulder. He knew that some of them had been released. Some were lucky to only have a few fractured ribs and bruising. The others were here for a prolonged amount of time with a clear timeline. Ilya was the only one whose prognosis was uncertain.
Shane tried to walk quickly past, clutching his coffee, hoping that no one would-
“Shane? Shane Hollander? What are you doing here?” Luca asked groggily, sitting up slightly.
Shane shut his eyes and swore under his breath before backtracking.
“I’m, uh, going to see Ilya.”
Luca’s eyes widened. “You’ve gotten to see Ilya?” With the mention of Ilya, the player next to him stirred and started blinking, “What about Ilya?” he asked.
“Um, you know. We’re friends. He has the same agent as I do. My mom works closely with Ilya. So we came by to help.” Shane fidgeted with his coffee, heat creeping up his neck as the lie settled.
Luca, maybe he still had a concussion, or maybe it was too early for logic to operate just nodded his head. “That makes sense - has he woken up? All we heard was that he’s in a coma.”
“Still in a coma. Uh, Farah said something about today being important? So I figured I’d drop by. Hang out.”
Luca blew out some air. “You’re lucky man, she has barely let anyone else from the team visit. Something about Ilya’s privacy? But he is our captain.”
“Yeah. Totally.” Shane shook his head. Fuck.
“Do you think you can talk to her? Maybe let us visit for a bit? Look, I know he’s in rough shape but-”
“I’ll see what I can do. But it’s Farah’s word at the end of the day, and I uh, I think Svetlana is coming.” Shane scratched his nose. “Do you know Svetlana? Ilya’s friend? Curly hair? They know each other from Russia and I think Farah may start to default to her as to who is visiting.”
Luca and the other player looked up, as if they were mentally trying to figure out who Svetlana was.
“Wait, is she the one in Boston? I think she came out one night for a team celebration.”
“Yeah… yeah that sounds about right. Listen, I have to go but uh, I’ll talk to you later?” Shane said, quickly taking the steps to leave the two players behind.
-&-
Shane walked into the ICU floor and made a beeline for Ilya’s room. Giving a tight smile as he noticed all the posters and cards that were outside of the room, the one from his neighbors was hung prominently.
He opened the door and slunk on through, and his first line of sight was always Chompy (resting on Ilya's blanket) on the bedside with Hayden’s kids cards. There was a team photo on the bedside table as well.
Shane focused intently on the team photo, pressing his lips down not to completely scream and lose it in Ilya’s room. He forced himself to glance over to Ilya, where he could feel his shoulders relax.
“Morning Ilya.” He said softly, walking over and kissing him lightly on his forehead, focusing largely on the curl that was intact versus the hues of a sunset that littered on Ilya’s face.
Ilya’s eyes stayed shut and the machines kept beeping. So much for true love’s kiss.
“Morning Shane.” Farah said from the corner, and Shane shifted his focus to her.
“Morning… looks like the Centaurs are coming in full force.” Shane grumbled as he sat down next to Ilya, swishing his coffee around.
Farah sighed, “About that, we need to talk strategy. They all really want to see Ilya-”
“They can see Ilya, no one is stopping them-”
“You know the visitation rules limit only a certain amount of people-”
“I am leaving the room so that they can see him-”
“Shane-”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!” Shane half whispered and half yelled at Farah, he could feel his eyes pop out as Farah took a step back.
“I am trying to be fair with not hogging all of his time. I really, really am but I’m so tired.” Shane whispered, dropping his head to stare at his coffee.
“I’m so tired of having to pretend that I’m some side character. And not just being able to … hold his fingers when I can when they’re in here. That I can adjust his hair right when they messed it up. And I know, I know it’s not their fault.” At this, he looked at Ilya.
“It’s ours. And if I’m being really honest… it’s mine for not wanting to come out sooner.” Shane whispered as he looked around the room. It was a nice room filled with cards and love for Ilya from around the world… but there were no cards or photos from Shane.
Farah stepped closer to Ilya’s bed, her hand on her heart. “I know this is tough. And everyone who knows the full truth… we see how hard it is for you. And I know if roles were reversed… Ilya would have probably destroyed your room at this point.” Shane snorted, because Ilya would do that.
“Right now, we just need to take it one day at a time. And today is another wake up window.”
“It is. And he’s going to wake up.” Shane said numbly, nodding as he stared at Ilya’s necklace.
“Yes. He is.”
There was a silence that cloaked the room. And it was clear that neither were confident in their answers.
“And when he wakes up. We can figure out what happens next. But I guess… until then… we keep going. I can pick up Svetlana-”
“Oh, Shane, that’s so sweet.”
“Ilya would have wanted me to. He’s got this…” Shane started waving his hands around, “thing about picking up family members and friends. Especially his female friends.”
Farah smiled softly, “Sounds like a chivalrous man.”
“He is.” Shane cleared his throat. “If Svetlana’s flight lands early in the afternoon, and it takes… what an hour or so to get there and back… that’ll put me in time for when he wakes up… right?”
“Right.” Farah grimaced as she nodded her head.
“Right.” Shane sighed as he looked at Ilya.
“That’s enough time for the team to come in… and then he’ll be awake… and we’re all done here.”
-&-
Shane kept grinding his teeth as he navigated traffic. His heart kept skipping a beat every time he thought Ilya will be awake when I come back, he’ll smile, he’ll…
Well, the doctors told them not to expect a fairy tale ending. That it won’t be easy, but Shane couldn’t help but let his mind wander to better days. The same way his thoughts kept ruminating through their summers and holidays… to their last fight.
He bit his lip as he switched lanes, forgetting to use his turn signal.
-&-
“Wow, Ilya is right. You are boring.” Svetlana said as she eyed the Subaru that the family rented for the trip.
Shane gave a small smile as he gave Svetlana a hug. Letting himself just rest in her arms and take in the curls. She wasn’t Ilya, but she still felt a bit like home.
“Dad picked the first sensible car he found.” He whispered as he pulled away to take a look at Svetlana.
She was never one to skip her routine. Curls intact, make up carefully done, and her outfit looked like she stepped off of the runway.
Shane looked down at himself. The same track pants he wore yesterday. A spare grey tshirt that he pulled on this morning and a black hoodie. There were some food stains and coffee stains if you looked closely.
Did he even put on deodorant this morning?
“Shall we get to the hospital? He should be waking up soon?” Svetlana asked, her eyes running through Shane’s outfit.
Shane nodded as he helped Svetlana put her suitcase in the trunk. And in the last second, sprinted over to open the car door for her. Svetlana raised her eyebrows.
“He taught you well.”
“Yeah, well, he will kill me if you tell him I misbehaved.” Shane joked, and Svetlana gave a small smile.
“Yes, he would.”
-&-
There wasn’t a single phone call nor text throughout the drive. And Shane kept gripping the wheel tighter and tighter, the knuckles flushing white. They drove slightly over the speed limit.
“I am excited to meet your parents. In person.” Svetlana said quickly, Shane glanced over with a surprised look.
“Oh yeah? Have you met them on-”
“Skype video. Ilya was excited to introduce us. Your parents are very cute.”
“Oh, thank you. That’s, uh, kind of you to say.” Shane stumbled before shaking his head. “Sorry, I didn’t realize he did that. I mean, it’s fine, I just thought he would have shared-”
“I think Ilya saw it as a small thing. It was very quick. Barely a hi.” Svetlana paused. “But he did say that your mom and I would get along. Something about both of us very…. Intense about hockey?” She asked as Shane smiled and leaned back in his seat.
“Yeah, that sounds about right. I just, uh, I wish this was happening when he wasn’t in a hospital.” Shane said, running his hand over his face.
“Well, he will wake soon and once he realizes that everyone he loves is in one place… well that is one party Ilya will love to throw.” Svetlana said with a smile that reached her eyes.
“Yeah, he’ll wake soon.” Shane said, clearing his throat, still feeling something stuck. “A party sounds nice.”
-&-
As Svetlana and Shane walked through the hospital, Shane noted the growing discharged Centaurs patients.
Svetlana stopped in her tracks staring at all the tired and bandaged men with their Centaur gear. The chatter was low among them, while others were trading phones. She looked between Shane and the men before quickening her step to reach Shane.
“How long have they been there?” She hissed.
Shane shrugged, “Some the full five days. Refusing really to leave due to survivor’s guilt. I mean, they go back to the hotel that their team has bought out. But they just stay here as long as possible until their family and friends force them to take a break from here-”
“How bad is he that they are all here like this.” Svetlana snapped, her arm thrown back and pointed to the waiting room.
Shane grimaced. “It’s bad Svetlana. I can’t… I can’t sugar coat it.” Her eyes widened as she started to take deep breaths. And Shane started to see the tell tale signs of someone spiraling.
Fuck.
“Look, look.” Shane said, turning fully to her and grabbing her arms. “We’re reaching another wake up window. And Ilya is going to be the annoying brat that he is and wait till the last second to start opening his eyes or moving his hands or whatever. And then, everything can start to get back to normal.”
“You don’t believe that.” She accused bluntly.
Shane let go of her arms, a shock rippling through his system. “What did you say?” He asked incredulously.
“You don’t believe it. I am simply stating the truth.” Svetlana said, folding her arms in front of her chest as a way to egg Shane on.
Shane rolled his eyes, and made a fist. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Just… come see him and maybe you can understand why I’m not full of fucking hope.” Shane snarled as he stomped off to the ICU, with Svetlana cursing in Russian following him.
Shane knew he should have tried to ease her into the whole setting. But was there even an easy way to do this? As if a powerpoint or an email could cover the horrible fluorescent lighting, the cold doctors, the friendly nurses, and the whispers that echoed the hallways like ghosts.
He fucking hated this hospital and it was his new home. How does one treat a guest in this hell house?
At Ilya’s room, Shane softly knocked before poking his head in. Farah was in there with two other Centaur players.
“Sorry, uh, Svetlana just arrived and wants to see Ilya. I’m so sorry-”
“No, no worries man, we were just done anyways.” The guy taking a look at his partner as they leaned on their thighs to stand up, Heads down as they shuffled out. Shane eyeing them down the hallway before widening the door for Svetlana.
Svetlana took small measured steps into the room. Once she was fully in, Shane hurriedly came in and shut the door. Leaning back on it, he rested his eyes for a second as Svetlana crept closer.
“Ilya.” She whispered. She started muttering things in Russian, looking around the room as if she could find something to stabilize her. Her eyesight landed on one of the chairs and she rushed over.
Collapsing on it, she hugged her chest tightly as she eyed him.
“You can, um, hold some of his fingers. His hands are still fragile from the accident. But the wrists are a clean break… no surgery there for him.” Shane said quietly, sniffling as he took a step closer.
Svetlana’s eyes started to tear up. “I have seen Ilya many times after his games or fights… this is the worst. I cannot… I cannot bandage him up like when we were kids.” Her eyes skittered over Ilya’s body. A noticeable wince at his heavily bruised face.
“No one is expecting you to do that. We just want you here to be with him for when he wakes up. Your presence is more than enough.” Farah says softly. Svetlana breaks away from Ilya to look at Farah, nodding slightly.
“It would be nice if I could just fix him though. Can I put ice on his bruise? Would that help?” Svetlana asked, looking behind her to Shane.
Shane's lips tugged into a small smile. “I already asked, they said it doesn’t work that way. But… great minds think alike?” Svetlana smiled back before turning her gaze back to Ilya.
-&-
Shane noticed his mom had put on a bit of makeup, her hair even was brushed through. And his dad… his dad was wearing a clean set of clothes.
Shane had a pit in his stomach, as they got closer to him. Shane was leaning on the wall outside of Ilya’s room. Once they got close, he could tell the question. He slowly shook his head as they approached.
“Nothing?” His mom asked in disbelief, her jaw dropping slightly.
“Sailed right through due date and extension.” Shane said, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling.
“Well, are the doctors inside?” His dad asked quickly, standing on his toes to see inside.
“We were waiting for you. Uh, Farah wanted to make sure one of you was there.”
His parents turned to one another. His dad cocked his head. “I was there for the last debrief, you go in this time.” His mom nodded her head, pulling her purse higher on her shoulder.
“Let’s go kiddo.” She said, gesturing to the door as Shane angrily pulled it out and walked in. He scrunched his nose slightly as he saw the Doctor and a bruised Ilya.
The doctor, some generic last name, was standing at the foot of Ilya’s bed as Farah stood to the left. Shane slunk down to the right hand side, blocking Chompy’s view as he rested his head on Ilya’s bed rails. The tight sheets with the clean corners rubbed in how Ilya had not moved.
“I know that this isn’t the news we wanted-”
“You can say that again.” Shane mumbled.
“Shane.” His mom reproached as Shane shook his head, letting his arm hang down.
“We were really hoping to see some response by now.” The doctor carried on as if he hadn’t heard Shane’s petulant commentary. “And we need to start adjusting how we think about Ilya’s recovery. At this point, recovery doesn’t follow a clear timeline. The changes will be slow and less predictable-”
“But will he even wake up at this point?” Shane snapped, pulling his head off the bed rail and staring at the doctor. “Like, is there anything pointing that he’ll snap out of this-”
“He is not stuck, he is injured.” The doctor pressed on as Shane could hear his mom stomp a foot. A warning to him.
Shane rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Not stuck. But is there anything that tells us he’ll wake up? Have you ever had patients in coma wake up after this long?”
“Yes, we have seen it.” The doctor said calmly.
Shane sucked a breath in, something dangerous as hope blooming in his chest. “And the fact that he is stable is good. And every image that comes through with no new injury, that’s also good. All this tells us right now is that this is a significant injury that Ilya needs to rest and recover from.” The doctor said in a low voice,
Shane leaned back as he put his hands behind his head. He could hear his mom and Farah start peppering with questions as he stared at the ceiling tiles. He slowly started to count out the tiles as he tried to regulate himself.
He got to twenty-four before he lost track and started at the corner again. He kept clenching his jaw and closing his eyes as he heard his own mom’s voice shift to annoyance.
Should he stomp his feet?
The moment passed and he heard the doctor walk out of the room. He heard Farah start to sniffle and his mom's chair scraped back.
He got to forty-one tiles before he looked down at Ilya.
It was hard to look at Ilya these days, he noticed this particularly as new team mates came in and stood in shock. Or how his own parents had to focus their gaze elsewhere when they were by his side.
The bruising and the swelling just kept going. It felt like every day Shane would notice a new bruise that shifted from red to purple to black. An eye was swollen shut. And Shane still only had a thumb to hold on to.
“You always did like to show up late to party moya lyubov.” He whispered as he leaned forward to take the thumb.
-&-
Shane walked over to the waiting room where the rest of the discharged team members had assembled. He felt as if he was walking through molasses and the idea of having to tell half of a hockey team that their captain was still asleep was unappealing. And Svetlana…
Oh, how she had dressed up for today, an ugly twist in Shane’s heart. Shane grimaced as he flashed back to picking her up in the morning. The contrast to them was so jarring that Shane had a hard time shaking it off.
How long would it be till Svetlana stopped with the makeup? Did she bring comfortable clothes?
Svetlana was sitting further away from the group, anxiously biting, what used to be, her perfectly manicured nails. At his footsteps, Svetlana looked up and pushed up from her chair.
“Well?” She asked, signaling the rest of the team to also stand up and form a circle around Shane.
It almost felt like they were in a locker room before a game. Almost.
Shane started to shake his head as he unclenched his jaw, shoving his fists in his hoodie pocket. Everyone’s shoulders slumped, some groaned and walked away, and others turned to look anywhere else but their team mates. A lot of swears were heard bouncing off of the relatively empty waiting room.
Svetlana, determined, shushed the men before turning back to Shane. To Shane’s surprise, the men quieted down. “Okay, but what did they tell? When is the next… wake up window?” Svetlana kept pressing. Leaning in, and focused on Shane.
Shane shrugged his shoulders, red hot anger started to pump through. “He’s not on a ‘clear timeline’ anymore.” Shane bitterly said and threw his hands up for the airquotes. He huffed out a laugh. “His changes are ‘unpredictable’ at this point-”
“That’s fucking bullshit man, aren’t the doctors suppose to know something?” One player stepped forward.
“What does it mean there’s no clear timelines - is he going to be like this forever?” Harris asked worriedly.
“For fuck’s sake, can’t they wake him up?” Another one practically shouted as he towered over Shane.
The questions kept piling and Shane’s head started to throb. Svetlana stepped closer to him and grabbed his arm as they stared at half of a hockey team pouring out all their frustrations.
The dull throb that started only a minute ago had escalated to a war drum. Shane tried to take one deep breath, and another one before he snapped. “I DON’T KNOW! I don’t know and-” Shane yelled, running a hand through his hair.
“Well you fucking should! You’re the one in the room while the rest of us are out here-” Andrew shouted, jabbing his finger at Shane and coming dangerously close to hitting Shane’s chest.
Another deep breath as Shane started to shake.
“Why are you in the room?” Andrew kept pushing. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as the circle became tighter and tighter.
“Because I want him there.” Svetlana snarled, breaking away from Shane and stepping in front of him. Her arms at her side as she leaned in, “I have known Shane longer than any of you and I have known Ilya back to the days when he was a piece of shit of a hockey player back in Moscow. So if I want Shane Hollander in the room, he fucking stays in the room.”
There was complete silence as everyone shuffled their feet. But still, the current was raw and while a few stepped back, others were more eager to lean into the fight.
Shane heard running footsteps. Shane looked behind him and saw security, forming their own circle around the team.
Fuck.
Then, with little warning, the players in front of him and Svetlana were grinning. Shrieks of joyous laughter. Before Shane could ask, he heard the booming voice.
“Well, it seems like I missed the party. Was anyone going to invite me?” Coach Wiebe barked out.
Shane turned around to see that Coach Wiebe was being wheeled into the lobby by his wife. While he was also decorated in bruises.
Coach Wiebe folded his arms on his chest. “Now, I heard that you’ve been causing some rakus-”
At this point, every player exploded with their own questions and sentiments. Shane noted that the security guards started to inch closer, one started to go for his radio.
Wiebe put his hands up, silencing the team.
“I know you’re all tired and frustrated. I know you’re all healing from your own physical injuries. And I know you all want Ilya to wake up. He’s your captain, and you care for him all deeply. And he knows that, even while he’s resting.” Coach Wiebe gestured behind him.
The team smiled but quickly faded as Coach Wiebe crossed his arms.
“However, that is no reason why you should be attacking Shane or Svetlana.” Svetlana, at this point, moved back to her spot next to Shane and huddled close to his side, folding her hand into his.
“You know that Ilya has no family. None that he speaks positively about or would support him in this time.” Shane squeezed Svetlana’s hand in indignation, jaw clenched.
“From my conversations with Svetlana and Farah, the Hollanders are that family for Ilya. They stay. Farah retains power of attorney and full discretion over visitation."
Coach Wiebe looked around at the team, many had shoved their hands in their pockets while others were biting their lips. There was grumbling, and Shane felt the hair on his neck stand on end.
“Now, you may have noticed that we have additional guests with us.” Coach Wiebe pointed to the security guards who seemed puzzled to have been included in the circle. One nervously waved while another glared at the team angrily.
“I’ve been told that you’ve been loitering. Not sleeping. Not eating. And not showering.” And everyone shifted uncomfortably. No one argued.
“If you want to be there for Ilya and the rest of your teammates who are still actively recovering… you need to take care of yourself.” Coach Wiebe’s voice softened. “That’s not optional. Tonight, everyone goes back to the hotel. You eat, shower, and sleep. And you come back tomorrow better than this.”
Grounds rippled through the group and sharp protests started to rise. Coach Wiebe lifted a hand up.
“It’s either you follow my orders,” he said evenly, “or their orders. Remember, you are still representing the team.” A few nervous gulps, one tense second. Then, slowly, the team began to disperse, collecting bags and jackets, heads down.
Shane let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Finally, they were leaving. He squeezed Svetlana’s hand twice. Maybe she could share stories of Ilya from the early days. Maybe they could all pretend that this was a normal outing versus an utter nightmare.
Coach Wiebe turned back to Shane and Svetlana.
“Shane,” he said, and before Shane could thank him, Wiebe went for the kill. “Shane, you’re not on my team but I’ve heard the hours you spent here. I’m asking you go back-”
“No.” Shane said simply.
He shook his head, lips pressed so tightly together they went white.
“Shane, please-” Coach Wiebe raised his voice.
Shane stepped forward.
His fists were tight and by his side, he didn’t even realize he had let go of Svetlana’s hand. He wasn’t a violent person, but towering over the coach; he felt his adrenaline hum as something ugly coiled in his chest.
Svetlana moved fast. She stepped in front of Shane, and placed a hand on his chest, blocking his line of sight.
“Just go,” She whispered, “I’ll be here. I’ll stay.”
Her gaze flickered to the lingering security guards nearby.
“This is bullshit Svetlana” Shane hissed, his arms shaking.
“I know,” her voice broke, “I’’m sorry. Just go - please. I don’t want you to get in trouble tonight.” She pleaded, her eyes wide with tears.
Shane nodded his head once. Then-
“Fine!” He shouted into the room and threw his arms up. Everyone froze. All heads snapped to him.
“Fine. I’ll go so the team can have a fucking good role model-”
“Shane, please-” Svetlana pleaded.
“No, it’s fine just…” Shane backed into the doorway, breath coming in fast. Shane slammed his fist into the wall hard, and stormed out. Not giving a fuck of the repercussions and the gasps that followed him out.
-&-
DeuxMoi
Anon please! Visiting my sister at the Savannah General and saw Shane Hollander arguing with an unknown woman and the coach of the Centaurs over who was staying at the hospital tonight for Ilya Rozanov.
Is there something there?
-&-