Chapter Text
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As much as Shane hated to admit it, his parents and Coach Wiebe were right.
The rest, the food, and the call with Hayden cleared his mind. While he knew it was impossible to control the situation, he at least felt like he was in control of himself.
Walking back into the hospital, food bags in hand, he diverted from his original route. His feet felt like lead, but he knew he had to do one thing before he went to Ilya’s room. Otherwise, the guilt in his stomach would continue to twist and grow.
Once he reached the door, he took a deep breath and knocked. Once he heard an affirmative answer, he pushed the door open a crack and poked his head through.
Coach Wiebe was sitting upright in his bed, his wife sitting by his side, squinting at her phone with her glasses on. Coach Wiebe’s eyebrows shot up, but his lips curved into a smile as he beckoned Shane into the room.
Shane gingerly walked in, taking in all the plants and flowers that circled the room.
Shane felt a stab of jealousy. Ilya was forbidden to have plants or flowers in his ICU room.
“Shane Hollander,” Coach Wiebe boomed, “To what do I owe this pleasure?” He settled his arms across his chest.
Shane gritted his teeth as he bowed his head, shuffling his feet as he focused on his dirty shoelaces. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked up again at Coach Wiebe’s face, his eyes darted with embarrassment over to Mrs. Wiebe who had put down her phone.
Coach Wiebe turned to his wife, but she spoke first, “You know, I could use some coffee. I’ll go grab some, Shane, can I get you anything?” She asked kindly, as she gathered her items.
Red hot shame flooded Shane’s face as he shook his head, mumbling a “No, thank you Mrs. Wiebe.” He averted his gaze as Mrs. Wiebe passed him, her hand resting for a second on his shoulder, a small squeeze of comfort before leaving the room.
Shane wished she shoved him into the wall.
Shane stepped closer to Coach Wiebe’s bed, “I came here to apologize for my words and actions from last night. It was unprofessional and out of line. You were right to recommend that I go and rest.” At this, a lump formed in Shane’s throat and his eyes prickled, “And I know Ilya would be furious if he saw me act out like that. He speaks really highly of you. You’re one of his favorite coaches he’s had as a player.”
Coach Wiebe tilted his head with a small smile, “That’s certainly high praise considering how many coaches Ilya has had in his lifetime. And I appreciate your apology and consider it accepted.”
Shane nodded, “Thank you sir.” He was turning away from the bed, hand still on the rails, when Coach Wiebe interrupted.
“Shane, I know we don’t know each other at all. And, if you ask my wife, she will tell you I am the worst when it comes to gossiping. But I do hear things.”
Shane’s skin prickled as an icy fear swept through his body. He immediately shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket.
Coach Wiebe hesitated, tilting his head to the side. “And I’ve had my own experiences as a player.” Coach Wiebe continued carefully. “Specifically, I’ve had my own experience with developing close friendships with other players.”
Shane felt his mouth drop, “Outside of my wife and him, you’re the only other person who knows. And so, I understand why you and Ilya would want to keep things private. Do you understand, Shane, what I’m trying to say?”
Shane quickly shut his jaw and nodded, “Yes. I just, I am surprised.” He said hoarsely.
“I can tell.” Coach Wiebe said kindly as they both nervously laughed.
“Listen, I was going to do this even if you hadn’t come up for a visit. But it’s clear to me that you’re in no shape to go back to practice or to the games. And I take it that you don’t want to leave right now anyways, right?”
“That’s correct.” Shane said quickly, shocked how fast he admitted that out loud.
Coach Wiebe nodded, “I am going to call Coach Theriault and let him know that you’re in no emotional or physical state to get back on the ice. Talk to him coach to coach. It’ll be best for all parties, especially for you, to let you stay on the bench until things have calmed down.”
Shane hesitated. “Do you think he’ll listen? Do you think he’ll suspect-”
“Coach Theriault is old school where he’d rather believe the lie then the truth. But underneath that, he’s a good man and I know he cares deeply about the game. If I tell him that you won’t play at your best, he’ll take it. We go way back, so I think my word counts for something.” Coach Wiebe teased as Shane flushed.
A small knock and Mrs. Wiebe stepped back into the room, holding a tray of two coffees and a water bottle. “Shane, I picked up some water for you, never can be too hydrated!” She said kindly, as she passed the bottle to him and she walked to her husband’s bedside.
Shane smiled, he could see why Ilya liked Coach Wiebe so much. “Thank you, that’s really kind. I should head back, but sorry and thank you again Coach Wiebe.” Shane said, waving slightly as he left the room.
Once the door clicked, Coach Wiebe turned to his wife. “Can you hand me my phone? I’m going to call Coach Theriault. And then, I’m going to talk to Yuna and Farah.”
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On his way to Ilya’s room, Shane shared some of the food from the hotel with the Centaurs team in the waiting room. After yesterday, everyone was a bit over the top with the pleasantries, and awkward glances to match. But, for the most part, Shane felt like everyone was on the same page.
Knocking on Ilya’s door, Shane shuffled in to see Svetlana and his dad sitting across from each other.
Svetlana smiled, as she jumped out of her chair to hug Shane. Shane hugged her back and whispered, “I’m so sorry for yesterday.”
“It is fine. Ilya was fine last night and you are here now. Rested.” Svetlana said kindly, pulling away from Shane. “And you smell nicer. Much better than before.” Shane laughed as he heard his dad get up.
“Hey kiddo.” His dad said, giving him a hug. “Glad to see you slept in a bit.”
“Thanks, where’s mom?” Shane asked, looking around the room.
“Oh, she’s working with Farah on messaging and helping out with a few logistics. I should go check in on her actually.” His dad said absentmindedly as he started to gather his belongings.
“I’ll let you three be!” His dad said cheerily, as he left the room. Shane wandered over to his dad’s spot as he plopped down.
“Hey Ilya.” He said, reaching over to hold on to Ilya’s thumb. He noted that the scratches on Ilya’s hands were fading and the swelling was going down. He felt a small smile on his face as he realized, perhaps he could do Hayden’s ring plan sooner than expected.
“Ilya has been sleeping. Doctors told Farah that they are seeing more good signs on scans and he’s breathing more on his own. They all were happy but said they were taking it slow.”
Shane nodded, more of a smile on his face as he gazed upon Ilya’s face. The bruises were still deep shades of ugly colors, but Shane could have sworn that some look like they were healing rather than expanding.
He could see the seeds of hope that everyone else had been taking note of all along.
“You know what I was thinking last night, staring at Ilya’s face?” Svetlana asked loudly, breaking Shane’s yearning stare.
“What?”
“This is the perfect time to put makeup on Ilya. He will never see, we will have fun, we will have photos to share when he is awake. And I have always wanted to see Ilya in a full face of makeup.” Svetlana said wistfully.
Shane, taking the pragmatic view, leaned back. “Well, he wears makeup for the ads.”
Svetlana made a tsk sound as she batted her hand. “Does not count. I want bright red lips. Gold eyeshadow. Very drawn on eyebrows. He would look pretty, yes?” She asked, as Shane laughed.
“I am biased, I always think he looks pretty.” Shane gazed down on Ilya, lingering on the curls.
Svetlana rolled her eyes. “So much mush. Well, I did ask the nurse if I could put some makeup on him. You know the nurse that always has pigtails?”
“The mean one?” Shane asked, shocked. Svetlana shrugged her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess the mean one, she got very angry at me. And threatened to ban me from Ilya’s room if she sees me with a makeup brush in hand.” Svetlana rolled her eyes. “It's a shame. I think she would like her job more if Ilya were prettier.”
“Has Ilya ever let you do his makeup?” Shane asked, feeling a bit of glee expand in his chest. It was rare that he got to hear stories of Ilya from someone who loved him as much as Svetlana did.
Plus, who wouldn’t want some new teasing materials for when Ilya woke up?
Svetlana threw her head back and laughed, “Maybe once or twice. But we were little so I think we saw it as an art project rather than putting on makeup.”
As if on cue, the nurse with the pigtails (or the mean one), walked into the room and grabbed the chart, noting some numbers down.
Shane looked at Svetlana who rolled her eyes. “Never did that as a kid. I was always so involved with hockey. And I don’t think my mom has fun makeup.” Shane said as Svetlana smiled.
“Oh please, Hollander, every woman has fun makeup. Could be red lipstick. Could be eyeshadow."
“You’ve met my mom. You really think she has ‘fun’ makeup-”
“On this, I’m certain. She has red lipstick. It’s a staple in every woman’s collection!” Svetlana shot back. And Shane rolled his eyes and snuck a glance at the nurse who was watching Ilya very intently.
“Is everything okay-” And Shane felt the words catch in his throat as everything in the room fell away.
Shane saw Ilya’s head move ever so slightly towards Shane’s voice. Not a full head turn, but enough that it felt like he was listening, and following along with the conversation. Shane thought that if he waited one more second, Ilya would grin that crooked smile and side with one of them.
It was like Ilya was there, listening to the conversation.
“Ilya? Ty menya slyshish?” Svetlana whispered, breathless. As Ilya then turned his head slightly towards her.
Shane’s heart thundered with joy as he looked at Svetlana. Tears gathered in his eyes as she covered her mouth with joy. “This is good! This is great. Can he wake up soon? Right?” He asked, turning to the nurse whose lips were in a thin line as she slowly put Ilya’s chart back down.
“Right?” Svetlana asked, throwing a pleading glance at the nurse who was still silent, clearly trying to see how to communicate.
“It is good.” She said in a measured tone. “But it can also be due to reflex. We cannot put a lot of meaning or hope on a head turn. Or a heart rate spike.”
“But it is better than nothing, right?” Shane pressed on, his palms sweating slightly as he turned back to Ilya.
“It is. But we want to see more before we can confidently say timelines. With injuries like these, recovery can be non-linear.”
“Yeah, we know.” Shane said, staring up at the ceiling as he felt his heart coil. The hope he had was still there, but it was a bitter taste in his mouth.
“I’ll let you three be.” The nurse said quietly before leaving.
Shane barely let the door shut before he huffed out a breath, “I told you she was the mean one.”
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Farah returned to Ilya’s room towards the end of the day, followed by a doctor and Shane’s dad. Svetlana, taking the silent hint, vacated her seat and promptly left the room.
“How are we doing?” Farah asked as Shane rubbed his eyes.
“Could be better. What’s going on here?” Shane asked.
The doctor had picked up the chart, and started flipping through the pages, taking a cursory look at the machines. “We’re reviewing Ilya’s respiratory numbers,” he said. “If they continue trending the way they have been, we may attempt extubation.”
“You mean to take out the ventilator?” Shane’s dad asked, his hand on Shane’s shoulder as he stared nervously at the doctor.
“Yes. It would be a trial to see if Ilya can maintain breathing on his own.”
“With the ventilator being removed, does it mean that Ilya is getting better?” His dad asked, squeezing Shane’s shoulder tightly at the last word that was filled with quiet hope. Shane bit his lip as he stared at Ilya’s hands, slowly counting the scratches.
One, two, three, four…
The doctor sighed, clearly choosing the next words carefully. “It means that his body is doing enough on its own that we no longer need the ventilator. It doesn’t tell us yet whether he’ll wake up.”
Shane fluttered his eyes shut. Breathing was good. But he had to quell the hope that was springing in his heart. Breathing felt like a victory Shane didn’t trust himself to celebrate.
Ilya would celebrate every win in huge ways, but he never celebrated consolation prizes.
“Is it painful to remove?” Shane asked, reaching forward to grasp Ilya’s hand. Feeling braver and holding more than the thumb, he was careful with the splinted and buddy-taped fingers. It was as if he was trying to comfort Ilya about this procedure.
Or maybe, it was the other way around.
The doctor paused, “It is uncomfortable but he will be sedated and will not remember it.”
“Are family members allowed in the room?” Farah asked, Shane glanced at her to see she was taking notes on her phone. He would need to ask for those notes later.
“Yes, we generally encourage it if we believe that it will help the patient stay calm.”
Something short fused in Shane’s head. “But Ilya is still in the coma, he won’t wake up during this procedure.” Shane swallowed. “Will he?” He asked quietly, unsure if he wanted Ilya awake if it meant he would be in pain.
But he would give anything to see Ilya open his eyes. Even a glance would do. It was as if he was back to being nineteen and hoping that the star Russian player would give him any attention.
The thought made Shane feel pathetic, and the guilt that he wanted Ilya to open his eyes (even if he was in pain) made him feel like a complete monster.
“No, he will still be unconscious.” The doctor explained. “We keep patients sedated, but there is a chance he may become briefly agitated when we reduce the medication. He might move. He might open his eyes briefly. He may react to the sensation. And that would be reflexive. It wouldn’t mean he’s awake.”
“Can I be in the room?” He asked softly, staring at Farah. He hated that he had to ask her.
He still didn’t have a single photo in the room.
Farah nodded her head, “Of course you can Shane. I figured you’d want to be and maybe have Svetlana in the room? And one of your parents-”
“I’ll be there.” David said quickly and gruffly. He was unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
The doctor nodded, “If his numbers remain stable, we can discuss timing tomorrow. Either late tomorrow or the following day.”
And with that, the doctor left the room. Shane let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in, letting his forehead rest against the bed rails, and letting the comforting sounds of Ilya's heart rate beeping through the machines calm his nerves.
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-&- TRANSLATIONS -&-
Ilya? Ty menya slyshish? (RU): Ilya? Can you hear me?