Chapter Text
Ilya was in the locker room with the rest of the Centaur team getting ready for practice. They all took turns telling him how proud they were, how happy they were for him. Some even started a Hollander chant, which made Ilya beam with joy. Wyatt mentioned how lucky Ilya was to get the empirically hottest man in the NHL.
“How’d you pull him anyway, Roz?” Bood had to ask.
“What do you mean, Bood. I am very charming, no?”
“No.” Bood said deadpan.
“Shut up. You all know I’m charming!”
“Shane’s charming” Troy said under his breath, and Ilya shot him a quick glance of ‘how dare you’.
The locker room erupted in laughter. It was good to be back, Ilya felt so happy to have this team. To get on the ice again. To not be suspended. It was all coming together. His stomach was in knots for Shane though, but he had plans to get him traded by next year anyways. Fuck Montreal. He grabbed his phone to see if there was a text from Shane, but nothing yet. He knew he was meeting with his Coach before practice, and Shane promised he’d call or text after the meeting, which should be any minute. Ilya really wanted to talk before he headed out for his own practice. Coach Wiebe appeared to the team,
“Alright guys, settle in, settle in! We’re very happy to have our Ilya Rozanov back in action!”
They all cheered and hooted. “Very brave thing you did Roz. We’re happy you’re happy. We’re thrilled you are back too! This season has been the best so far and we have no intention of letting up, do we boys?! I want to keep up this winning streak! So let’s cut the chit-chat, and let’s get to work. Roz? You ready Captain?”
Ilya looked dangerous and spirited. “Fuck yes, let’s go!”
They all took off from the locker rooms, with Ilya leaving himself last with Coach. As they tapped each other’s shoulders, Ilya’s cell phone was ringing from inside his locker. He looked over at Coach, then dashed for his phone. When he saw who was calling, he was confused.
“It’s Hayden Pike?” Ilya said to Coach Wiebe.
“Why is Pike calling you?”
“I don’t know?”
“Pick it up, then meet us on the ice, alright?” Coach said and left.
“Hello?” Ilya said with a bit of a disdain. “Hayden?”
“Ilya, hey, it’s JJ, using Hayden’s phone because Hayden’s driving. Listen, Shane was beat up in the parking lot. You need to come.”
Ilya froze. “What do you mean? Beat up? He was beat up? Why isn’t he calling me?”
“We found him unconscious outside the stadium.” That made Ilya drop down to sit on the bench. “We don’t know who did it or even when. We’re taking him to Montreal General. It’s going to take you like 2 hours to get here, you need to leave now.”
“He’s not awake?! He’s not okay?” Ilya started dry heaving, choking on air. “JJ is he okay?”
“I don’t know man. He’s unconscious still, we’re trying to wake him up!”
Ilya launched off the bench and punched a locker, with a loud exasperated
“Fuck!” then smaller, in almost whispers inbetween hitched breaths, “No, no, no, fuck fuck, no.” He leaned against the locker, heaving. “Does he have pulse, JJ, pulse?” Ilya was shaking in his voice.
“Yes, he has a pulse, he has a split to his dome, he’s bleeding a little, not a lot. Look he got laid out, we-” JJ stops talking to start talking to Hayden about something but Ilya can’t make it out.
“What?” Ilya says but at whisper level almost. “Is he awake?” Ilya can’t hear anything and JJ stopped talking to him. Then he comes back up to the speaker of the phone,
“He kind of came to, we’re right at the hospital Ilya. Just get here. Call Hayden back if you want more information in just a bit, I got to get him out of the car.” And JJ hung up.
Ilya stood for a second, his eyes darting back and forth trying to comprehend what was just said as tears were just falling out in succession. What just happened? No, seriously, what the fuck just happened? Shane was beaten up by somebody. Ilya wanted to crumble to the floor and cry but he had to get in his car and leave now. But he can’t even imagine driving, his hands are shaking so badly, his eyes are blurry. It was as if, Coach Wiebe knew something was wrong, because he returned to the locker room to find Ilya, wondering why he hadn’t been on the ice within 5 minutes time. The immediate look of Ilya’s ghost pale teary face gave Wiebe indication of something terribly wrong.
“Ilya, what did Pike want?” Coach said coolly but with a slight wear of concern and weary,
“Shane’s been taken to the hospital. I have to go.” Ilya said this like he was drunk.
“Hospital? Ilya, what happened?”
Coach saw Ilya was visibly shaking, he was rubbing his face over and over, wiping tears, his eyes were wide and wild.
“He was uhh” Even his voice was shaking, “assaulted.” Ilya lost it at saying that word. He felt like his skin was ice, but his veins were on fire.
“I’ll drive you.” Wiebe said. “Team can practice without me. Let’s go.”
Ilya didn’t have time to process anything, he just went along with it. He shook his head yes, grabbed his keys, phone, wallet, stripped his skates and put on shoes quickly, leaving the rest of his gear out. Wiebe grabbed his keys from his office and they left together. Coach Wiebe had to put his arm around Ilya’s waist to help him walk.
Ilya called back Hayden just 15 minutes later from the road.
“Hayden!” Ilya said when the call went through.
“Ilya, hey.” There was a slight pause, then Hayden continued, knowing what Ilya needed, “They took him back already. He’s mildly awake, coming back a bit, he spoke, but then he kind of passed out again. Definitely has a concussion.”
“What happened?” Ilya said this extremely desperately but firmly, like he had to know, right now.
“I truly don’t know. JJ and I carpooled and we were walking into the stadium and we saw Shane lying on the asphalt at the parking lot. Not moving.” The ‘not moving’ part of that sentence made even Hayden shake in his voice. “He was obviously beaten up by what looks like several guys, I’d think. He probably got jumped.”
“Who?” Ilya sounded mad, hot, enraged. Hayden could picture the Russian stare.
“How would I know?” Hayden said this a bit desperately himself.
“Who hates him on the team?” Ilya requested.
Hayden paused, he didn’t want to answer this.
“Ilya, it could have been almost anyone. Everyone hates him except JJ and I.”
“What?” Ilya shudders, “Everyone hates him? Your whole team hates him? Their Captain? Why?”
“He never told you that?” Hayden felt this wasn’t the time to have this conversation.
“No. He said they aren’t very good about him being gay, but-” Ilya trailed off. He’s recalling all the times Shane comes to Ottawa and seems sad, how Montreal hasn’t been playing that well this year, or even last. How Shane changes the subject when Ilya mentions team hangouts. That time Hayden did bring it up at dinner and Shane cut him off from talking.
“Look, we shouldn’t get into all this right now. Are you on your way? Are you driving and calling me?” Hayden had a tinge of disappointment in his voice at the thought of that. He can tell Ilya is extremely emotional right now. I mean hell Hayden was driving too and it was hard enough, he’s only just letting the adrenaline wane off him.
“No. Coach is driving me.” Hayden was surprised. How nice of his coach to do that. Ilya continued, “Hayden, how bad is he?”
“Like I said, I’m sure it’s a concussion, but nothing seemed broken. His face is fucked.”
Ilya whimpered at the last line. “What you mean, fucked?”
“Huge black eye, his jaw looks bruised. His nose was bleeding a bit, they definitely got his ribs too. He’ll probably need stitches on his head from hitting the pavement.”
Ilya just started sobbing uncontrollably. Hayden stayed on the line, just in case, but he could tell Ilya was just holding the phone away and crying. Then a voice came up on the speaker,
“Hey Pike, it’s Coach Wiebe. I’m going to hang up, we’ll be there in an hour and a half.”
“Okay Coach Wiebe, thanks for…driving him.”
“Of course, he is my captain and Shane is…” Wiebe found himself a bit emotional. Not only had he gotten to know Shane from Ilya’s charity and friendship with him, he got to know him this past week when he planned a whole trade operation for him. He liked Shane very much. “-a good person.” Wiebe hung up the phone and looked over at Ilya, who was still sobbing, head in his hands. Wiebe focused on the road and getting there as fast as possible.
**
Shane finally came out of the daze in his hospital room. He slowly opened his eyes as a nurse was checking his vitals.
“Hey.” She said sweetly, “Mr. Hollander, good timing. You have visitors who just arrived outside your door. How do you feel now?”
He felt like he had dried tears in his eyes, he felt sore, he felt a weird sense of morose. He remembered everything that happened. It was Grange and Cromber. The parking lot. They pushed him, kicked his ribs, punched him. He winces at the recollection.
“Sore.” He managed. He looked around his room, but no one was there. The nurse noticed this,
“Oh, they’re just receiving the report outside from the doctor, I’ll tell them you’re awake.” She went to leave, but Shane stopped her,
“Who is here exactly?”
“Your parents, Ilya Rozanov, and a teammate, I believe?”
Shane nodded slowly, “Can you send just Ilya, please. First.”
He had a slight concussion, bruised ribs, a black eye, no broken jaw, just sore. He faired okay. The worst of it being the concussion. He actually didn’t need stitches for his head, just a butterfly bandage. This was the report the doctor was giving the lot of them just outside the room. When the nurse walked out, she approached them,
“He’s awake now. He wants to see Mr. Rozanov, alone. First.” Ilya took off for the door. She looked at the parents sorrowfully, “Then you guys next.” She walked off and before anyone could exchange glances or words, Ilya had already dashed into the room.
When Ilya walked in, he had déjà vu. Felt like that time Marleau laid Shane out on the ice, except this time, it wasn’t sports related. It was an assault. When Shane saw Ilya, his heart shattered. He looked beyond upset. Almost beyond recognition. His face was blotchy and red. Shane wondered how bad he looked just based on his reaction alone. Ilya immediately ran to Shane’s side of the bed and grabbed his hand. Ilya was already crying, he’d already been crying, you could see it all over his face. His eyes were swollen, he had bags under them too, but he rubbed Shane’s hand and tried to smile but no smile came. Neither Shane or him said anything for a moment. Shane swallowed and looked adrift, not meeting Ilya’s eyes, who so desperately wanted them met, both of their eyes were bubbled with tears.
“Shane…” Ilya said almost in a whisper. Shane’s eyes were welling up, and it hurt, especially the left eye. Why did the left eye hurt so bad?
“How do I look?” Shane asked, he finally met Ilya’s eyes, and maybe the question was supposed to be funny, but Ilya looked scared to answer it. His mouth turned down and Ilya covered it with his hand as he rubbed his frown that formed from that question. Not good then, Shane thought. “Why does my eye hurt?” Shane asked more pointedly, monotone. This is the part of the story he doesn’t understand.
“You got punched.” Ilya said. “You have black eye.”
“But Cromber punched me in the jaw.”
“Cromber did this? You know who did it?” Ilya squeezed Shane’s hand tighter.
“Yes, Cromber and Grange…. but he only punched me in the jaw. Ow” It hurt to talk.
“Well someone punched you in the eye Shane.”
“After?” Shane was saying this all very monotone still.
“After what?”
“After I hit the pavement, they… kept beating me? That’s …” Shane’s tears were falling to the side from his eyes which made Ilya irrationally crazy. They beat him even after he went unconscious. They could have killed him. It should be a murder attempt. Ilya was breathing very heavily out of his nose, trying not to lose his cool.
“Cromber and Grange?” Ilya says their names deep and low as he asked for confirmation. Shane nodded. Ilya was about to leave and take that information but Shane squeezed his hand, sensing what Ilya wanted to do; to storm out of there and go kill them.
“Stay with me please.” Shane didn’t say this monotone, he begged this, almost in a high-pitch voice, his mouth formed a frown as it twitched. Ilya squeezed his hand back, leaned over to Shane’s face, touched his freckles gently and brushed through his hair.
“Of course, of course.” He placed a kiss on his cheek, “I love you. I won’t go anywhere. I’m going to kill them.” He was full of contradictions. He kissed him again, that made Shane smirk, which made Ilya breath for what felt like the first time in this room actually. “You’re never stepping foot in there again.”
Shane hitched his breath, “Yeah, I know.” That didn’t mean the same thing to him.