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The nice thing about coming to Ottawa General's emergency room in an ambulance was that Ilya didn't have to wait in the lobby for his turn to be called back.

Simone and Luke efficiently unloaded Ilya's gurney from the ambulance, taking care to not shake it or move it too roughly. Shane followed closely behind, making sure he was out of their way but still where Ilya could see him. Within less than two minutes of arriving, they were already rolling into a private room where a nurse was waiting for them. Shane stepped in behind the medics, who were already giving the nurse information on Ilya's injury and how he did on the ride while they transferred him into the hospital bed. Shane tried hard to pay attention, to listen to what they were saying in case it was important, but his brain was struggling to keep up with all of the medical terms being thrown around. It also didn't help that the adrenaline from the accident had now fully worn off, and his own head was starting to throb. He felt selfish thinking about his headache while his husband was laying on a cot in a hospital with a brace around his neck after smashing his head against a metal pole, so he silently rubbed his temple as he sat in one of the chairs against the wall. Unfortunately for him, the rest didn't last long. Simone finished up her conversation with the nurse and walked over to Shane. He heard his mother's voice in his ears, reminding him to always be eye level with whoever is talking to him. So he stood.

"Okay," Simone said, Luke by her side, "this is where we leave you with the team here. You're in great hands. Mr. Rozanov might not remember us, but please pass along our well wishes for a quick recovery." Shane thanked her as she smiled, gave a small wave, and pushed the gurney out of the room back towards the ambulance bay. 

Luke lingered for a moment. "Hey, uh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I really am a huge fan. I'll be watching every game next season. I hope your husband feels better soon. And go Centaurs." He held out his hand for Shane to shake. Shane could see that Luke had good intentions, although he had mixed feelings on the timing of it. Still, he knew he would've felt bad if he didn't shake the hand in front of him, and he wasn't sure if Luke was the kind of person to go to a tabloid complaining that Shane was a dick. Shane decided to just give him a quick handshake and thank him for his help with Ilya. Luke looked like he was about to fanboy as he walked out to follow Simone, which made Shane smile just a little before sitting back down and rubbing his temple again.

The nurse in the room had been talking to Ilya while getting him set up on some monitors, but he looked up at Shane. "Hi, Mr. Hollander," he said. Shane thought better of correcting anyone on his and Ilya's last name. "My name is Fletcher. I'll be here all night, so you're stuck with me." He finished up what he was doing and walked towards the door of the small room they were all in.

Shane smiled politely in response, although it felt a little forced. "Nice to meet you. You can just call me Shane."

Fletcher smiled and nodded. "Sounds good, Shane. The doctor should be in shortly. We usually move head injury scans along pretty fast in case there's something that needs to be addressed right away. Just give me a shout if you need anything in the meantime." Fletcher smiled again before leaving.

It felt a little strange to be alone with Ilya after everything that had happened. Ilya had started to seem a little more like himself since arriving at the hospital, but Shane still felt a knot in his stomach when he thought about something going wrong with just the two of them in the room. He scanned the walls to find the emergency call light, just in case he needed it. It usually helped him relax to have an 'in case of emergency' plan, but he still found himself spiraling, thinking about everything that could go wrong. 

"Shane," Ilya mumbled, reaching his hand out. "You have your thinking face on."

Shane snapped out of pondering worst case scenarios and looked at his husband on the bed across from him. He smiled a little and took Ilya's hand, immediately feeling the wave of calm that Ilya's touch always brought him. "Sorry. I'm okay, don't worry about me. You're the one in the hospital bed." He could see that Ilya was calmer and more with it now that they'd settled into the room, a stark contrast to how he'd been only a few minutes ago in the ambulance, but he didn't want Ilya expending any energy focusing on him rather than resting and getting better.

"Yes, this is true. I am more important right now. So stop being anxious, ah?"

Shane laughed quietly and nodded. "I'll do what I can." He brought Ilya's hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles gently. "How's your head?"

"Is okay, a little better. Mostly I'm just very nauseous," Ilya said as he closed his eyes. Shane could tell he was trying to think. "I hit my head at the park, yes?"

"Yeah, you hit it on the tire swing pole while you were playing with Max. Do you remember?" Shane was suddenly hopeful that his husband was able to form memories again so he wouldn't have to keep telling him what happened or trying to translate if he switched to Russian.

"No," Ilya replied, "but I remember you telling me in the ambulance."

Shane nodded a little. I'll take what I can get, he thought. He felt some relief that maybe the worst was behind them. "Okay, yeah. You've asked how it happened a lot, so I'm glad you're able to remember things again."

Ilya's eyes opened and flickered over to Shane's. "Was Maxim okay? And Emi?"

He could see the sudden concern in Ilya's eyes. He obviously didn't remember Shane answering those questions in the ambulance. Shane didn't want to overwhelm him by telling him again that, no, Max wasn't hurt, but he was a wreck after the accident. Instead, he tried to keep his voice as level as possible and stuck with a basic response. "Max didn't get hurt, he's fine. And Emi wasn't with you when it happened. They're just worried about you. We were all worried about you."

He watched the concern leave Ilya's face as he processed Shane's answer. "This is probably the stupidest injury I have ever had."

Shane's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have played hockey for many, many years, and I sometimes get hurt while playing. Which is fine, because that is just what happens in hockey." Ilya rolled his eyes a little. "And somehow, the worst concussion I have ever had comes from a fucking tire swing on a day out with my family. Is stupid. What a stupid way to get hurt."

Shane couldn't stop himself from laughing a little. Of course Ilya was annoyed that this wasn't some grand injury that he'd earned during a game. He probably would've been happier knowing he'd been checked into the boards too hard or taken a punch in the wrong spot. 

Shane felt a sense of deja vu come over him. All of this felt similar to the time he'd been taken out on the ice by Ilya's former teammate Cliff Marleau in 2017. Even though he didn't remember the hit itself or most of the day that it happened, he knew how much it scared Ilya and affected him even years later. Any time it was mentioned by someone or a clip of the hit was shown, Ilya would tense up and immediately shut down. If Shane was nearby, Ilya would silently reach for his hand and squeeze it, grounding himself to remind his brain that Shane was okay. If Shane wasn't around when it came up, he would get a 'just checking in' text from his husband, and Shane would know to respond by letting Ilya know he was fine. 

Shane wondered if the way he felt now was how Ilya felt when he had gotten hurt that day. It was probably worse for Ilya back then because he still had to play the rest of the game wondering if Shane was alive, and wait another whole day to see him in the hospital. Even after the visit to Shane's hospital room, Ilya wouldn't have been able to tell anyone how scared he was feeling or ask people for updates on Shane because they were still hiding who they were to each other. 

Ilya had it much worse, Shane decided. Although he knew this was bad too, at least he was able to be there with his husband and hold his hand. 

He was starting to wonder if he would be affected by this for years to come in the same way Ilya had been, but he was pulled out of his head by the doctor knocking gently on the door before entering the room. 

"Hi," the woman said as she walked into the room, closing the door behind her and sitting down on the stool near Ilya's bed. She was wearing scrub pants with an Ottawa General branded sweatshirt. Shane was struck by how she looked like she could've been Svetlana's mother; they had similar eyes and hair, and she was just as beautiful. "I'm Dr. Morin." She smiled and nodded at Shane before rolling her stool over towards Ilya's bed and looking at him. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Rozanov."

Ilya's eyes moved over to hers as he gave her a polite smile, his neck still unmoving, held in place by the brace. "Hollander-Rozanov. But Ilya is fine."

Something untwisted in Shane's stomach and he found himself letting out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. If Ilya was aware enough to correct people on his name, things were definitely improving.

"Of course, Mr. Hollander-Rozanov. Ilya. Apologies," Dr. Morin said, glancing up at Ilya's monitor screens. "I was reading through the notes from Simone and Luke about the accident. It sounds like you got a decent hit near the top of your head. How is it feeling now?"

Shane listened as Ilya answered her questions, explaining that it still hurt but was better than it had been from what he could remember of the ambulance ride. When Ilya told her about how nauseous he felt, Shane found himself looking around the room for a bucket or disposable bag, naturally wanting to make sure he had a plan in case Ilya did get sick. 

Once Ilya had answered as much as he could from everything he was able to remember, Shane chimed in to fill in the gaps. "He wasn't bleeding or anything, but he was unconscious for a few minutes. He woke up and was only able to speak Russian for a little bit before he switched back to English." Ilya seemed to be surprised to learn that he was only speaking in his native tongue when he came to, evidently not remembering that either.

Dr. Morin nodded as she listened to Shane. "That can happen when the brain gets knocked around. Think of it as coming back online with factory settings; if Russian is his first language, it was probably easier to go with that when he had limited awareness. It doesn't necessarily mean anything worse is going on."

Shane nodded, more relief filling his body. He did his best to answer other questions that Ilya couldn't as she did an exam, looking him over thoroughly. After a few minutes of going through the accident and checking on Ilya, Dr. Morin stood up and crossed her arms. "Honestly, everything looks okay from the initial exam. You don't have any issues with your reflexes, and your memory is holding steadier than it sounds like it was earlier. I'd like to order a CT scan of your head and neck, just to be sure we're not missing anything critical, but my expectation is that it'll come back clear. We can also give you some nausea medicine in an IV." Ilya instantly frowned and his face flickered with anxiety at the mention of an IV. The doctor put her hands up in front of her. "I don't want you taking anything by mouth in case we have to do some kind of emergency intervention. But it'll help, and I think it's a good idea."

"Yes, please do that. He'll be fine." Shane interjected, speaking on Ilya's behalf. He could see Ilya pouting, but chose to ignore it.

"Sounds good. It also seems like your neck is less tender than it was right after you fell based on what Simone said. If everything comes back okay with the scans, we should be good to get the brace off. We'll probably monitor you for a few hours, but unless something is dire, you can probably go home tonight as long as you follow concussion protocol." She smiled a little before adding, "I know you're both hockey stars, so I'm sure you're familiar with how that goes."

Shane chuckled a little and nodded. "Unfortunately, we are."

She smiled again before walking over to the hand sanitizer dispenser, squirting some into her palm and rubbing it in. "Sounds like we've got a good game plan. I'll put in the orders. Oh, and if you feel like you want to rest, you're being well monitored so I don't have a problem with that. Fletcher should be in soon to do your meds and get you upstairs to CT."

Shane thanked her as she left the room. Then he turned his attention back to Ilya, who was still pouting. 

"I'm not doing the IV," he whined.

Shane took his hand again. "Yes you are. Don't be a baby. You've had plenty of shots and IVs before, it's nothing new."

"Exactly, which is why I know that I will not do it."

Not wanting to argue, Shane chose to change the subject. "Will you be okay if I stay here while you do your scan? I should call my parents in case we're here late and they need to pick up Max and Emi."

Ilya nodded in agreement as much as he could with the brace, but Shane could see that it wasn't very convincing. Shane gave his hand a small, reassuring squeeze. "Hey, if you want me to go with you, I'll go."

"No," Ilya whispered, "is okay. I am just worried about the kids."

For as much as Shane's heart had been piecing itself back together while Ilya had been improving at the hospital, this blow took all that progress away. His chest ached hearing Ilya worry about their children. It wasn't hard for Shane to put himself into Ilya's shoes, because he'd been there once too. But when it happened to him, he didn't have kids to think about. He could imagine how scared Ilya must be to not be able to remember much after such a severe injury, be immobilized in a tight neck brace, to be in pain and feel sick to his stomach, and worry about their children on top of all of that. Shane never had to question how Ilya would be as a parent when they decided to have kids, because he knew how much his husband loved children and how soft and squishy he was under his hard exterior. Max and Emi were always Ilya's number one priority, and knowing that was still true even when he was the one hurt and in the hospital broke Shane's heart.

"Ilya," Shane choked out, not realizing tears were stinging his eyes. He cleared his throat quietly, determined to hold it together. "I promise they're okay. I'm sure they're just having a fun playdate with the Pikes while we're here, and you'll see them soon. I'll give them a call later if it would make you feel better. They'd probably love to hear your voice."

Even as Shane said it, he seriously doubted the kids were having fun right now. He was almost positive that Hayden and Jackie were consoling Max and Emi, trying to keep them calm and distracted. He certainly wasn't envious of Ilya for being the one who was hurt, but at the same time, Shane was the one who had to see how terrified his children were after everything happened. He was the one who had to talk to them, had to tell them that Ilya loved them when he couldn't do it himself. He had to try and convince them it was going to be okay as they watched their Papa be loaded into an ambulance, too young to really understand the situation and likely scared they wouldn't see him again. It was one of the hardest things Shane had ever done, and he wasn't even sure if he'd done it right. There was no way to practice those kinds of conversations, although he wished he'd somehow been better prepared for it. Truthfully, he always assumed that one of them might get hurt during a game at some point and he'd just handle it with the kids as it came up. He internally scolded himself for not having some kind of preemptive plan ready to go for when one of them got hurt.

Shane tried to shrug the memory of hugging his kids goodbye before getting into the ambulance out of his head, storing it away in his mind to analyze later. He knew thinking about it would probably break him down, and he wanted to try and keep himself composed for Ilya's sake.

Ilya quietly agreed that he did want to say hi to the kids, and even promised to follow concussion protocol while doing it. A silent tear fell down his cheek, and Shane gently brushed it away with his thumb. He stood up from his seat, leaned over the bed, and very gently kissed Ilya's forehead. He could feel Ilya leaning into it as much as he could.

Another soft knock at the door made Shane pull away and sit back down. Fletcher came back in, holding a small vial. "Hi again," he said, setting the tube down on the metal tray table next to the bed. He shuffled around the room, gathering some supplies for Ilya's IV before pulling up the stool next to the bed and sitting down. 

This was the part Shane was concerned about. He knew Ilya wasn't scared of much outside of something happening to him or the kids. In fact, he could only think of one other big thing: needles. Shane always thought it was a little bit ridiculous that he was scared of needles, especially since Ilya was perfectly fine with tattoos, but he didn't want to make him feel bad for being afraid of something.

"Okay, Ilya," Fletcher started, carefully taking Ilya's hand and looking at his veins, "I'll get your IV in nice and quick so we can get you up to CT."

"Please, I don't want it," Ilya whimpered to Fletcher. "I am not nauseous anymore, I don't need it." He wiggled a little in the bed, and Shane had to put a hand on his chest to keep him still.

"Stop, stay still," Shane pleaded. "You have to do it. It'll be over quickly." In a way, Shane felt like he was talking to Maxim or Emi about getting a shot. He tried to put on the same soothing voice he used with his kids when they were scared, hoping some calmness would rub off on Ilya. Despite his best effort, he could tell it wasn't working because Ilya kept quietly whining, almost ignoring Shane altogether. He could see that Ilya was genuinely afraid. He was also sure that Ilya's movement being constricted by the brace was making it worse. If the tables were turned, Shane knew he'd be crawling out of his skin with everything going on. He suddenly wanted to tell Ilya how brave he was to be dealing with all of this, but he chose to stay quiet because he worried that, even though he meant it, it would sound too sarcastic or condescending.

Shane looked up at the heart monitor screen when he heard the beeps getting closer together. Fletcher reached up, pressing a button to mute it. "Ilya," Shane warned, "your heart rate is going up. Calm down. It's one needle." He moved his hand from Ilya's chest and looked back at his face, which was scrunched up. "Please. I'll bribe you with whatever you want. Let him do his job, you'll feel better when you're less nauseous."

This piqued Ilya's interest, and Shane almost immediately regretted saying it. "Whatever I want?" Ilya asked, the anxiety not quite disappearing off of his face, but something else joining in with it.

Shane rolled his eyes but nodded. "Yes, fine. But let's talk about it after we're out of the hospital, okay?"

Ilya smirked a little and moved his eyes towards the nurse sitting at his side. He took a slow breath in and out. "Okay, I am ready."

Shane felt a little relief. Unfortunately for him, the relief was short-lived. Ilya's eyes went wide again and all of his false confidence left his body as soon as he saw the needle. "Hey," Shane said softly. "Look at me."

Ilya's panicked eyes flicked back to Shane as Fletcher lifted his hand to prep his skin.

Shane smiled as much as he was able, which he was sure wasn't very convincing given how he could feel his heart aching for Ilya, and held his hand. "You're doing great." Shane kept looking at Ilya, never breaking eye contact, but could see that Fletcher was done getting Ilya's hand ready and was about to put in the IV. He reached his other hand up to cup Ilya's cheek, hoping it would block his periphery so Ilya couldn't see the needle coming.

It seemed to help, because Ilya's expression softened just a little. "I love you," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

Ilya let out a quiet groan and squeezed his eyes shut when the needle went in. Shane was impressed with Fletcher's speed and accuracy, watching as he pulled it back out almost as quickly as he had put it in, leaving only the little tube in Ilya's hand. He flushed the line and pulled the medication from the vial into a syringe before sending it through the IV.

"That should help with your nausea, but let me know if it doesn't and we can try something else," Fletcher said, cleaning up the packaging from the IV supplies around him. "We should be good to head upstairs for your scan if you're ready." Based on how quickly everything was moving at the hospital, Shane couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with the fact that Ilya was... well, Ilya. Shane and Ilya usually didn't like getting any kind of special treatment just because they played hockey, but Shane figured this was one occasion where it was helpful, and he wasn't about to complain that things were running so efficiently.

Ilya sighed shakily, letting out his anxiety in a controlled breath. "Da," he said, but added for clarity, "yes."

Fletcher stood up and moved behind the bed, clicking off the brakes and pushing it away from the wall.

"I'll be right here, okay?" Shane said, giving Ilya's hand one last squeeze before he had to let go.

"Okay," Ilya whispered.

Shane quietly thanked Fletcher as he pushed the bed out of the room and down the hall.

As soon as Shane was alone, the stress of the day crashed over him. He leaned back against the wall behind his chair and rubbed his hands over his face. The ache in his head, which he had been ignoring since they arrived, was now demanding to be felt. With Ilya gone and the room quiet, there was nothing else to do but focus on the pounding in his temple. He knew he needed to call his parents, to let them know what happened and confirm that they could help with Max and Emi, but he allowed himself a moment to just sit in the silence. One emotion after the next bubbled to the surface, each clawing their way up for a chance to be noticed and paid attention to. Shane sighed, lowering his hands and closing his eyes. He could feel his grasp on the management of his feelings slipping away, and he desperately tried to regain control.

"C'mon," he mumbled to himself, trying to get his brain to slow down. He tried to do a breathing exercise, which worked only just enough to convince himself that it was time to call his mother.

Keep it together, let her know what's going on, he thought.

He pulled out his phone from his pocket and took one more breath in and out before clicking her name and pressing call. It only rang twice before she answered.

"Hey, honey," Yuna said, sounding a little out of breath.

"Hi, mom. You okay? You sound busy."

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. I'm working with the design team we hired to plot out a new garden bed and pond on the side of the house, so I've been running around with them trying to figure everything out. It's going well, but-"

Shane didn't realize he was crying until he let out a soft sniffle.

Shit, he internally scolded himself. So much for keeping it together.

"Shane? What's wrong?" Yuna asked, concern immediately filling her voice.

"Sorry," Shane got out, sniffling again. "Sorry. I'm okay. It's been a bad day, I don't know why I'm crying." It wasn't true; he knew exactly why he was crying. He was terrified for his husband, heartbroken for their children, and he was finally alone for the first time since everything happened. It was all catching up to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Um," Shane didn't really know where to start. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall. He brought his hand up to his cheeks and wiped away some of the tears. "I'm at the hospital with Ilya, he got hurt while we were out with the Pikes."

"What? Oh my god, Shane, is he okay?"

"I think he'll be fine. He has a bad concussion but the doctor doesn't think it's anything worse. He's getting a scan done now and should be back soon."

"What happened?"

Shane went through the whole day with his mom, who listened intently and only occasionally let out a worried gasp. He focused on the injury itself, rather than how he was doing, once again not wanting to take the focus away from his hurt husband. Once he was done verbally replaying everything, he waited for his mom's response. 

"Wow, Shane, that's... that's a lot," she breathed, worry etched into every word. "Thank god he's okay. Are you okay?"

That was the question he was hoping she wouldn't ask. But, of course she did. "I'm, uh," he tried to think of the right words, "I'm getting through. Overwhelmed and worried about everyone."

"Of course. Of course you are, honey. What can dad and I do to help?" Shane could hear the moment she switched into crisis management mode. He didn't even get a chance to respond before she answered her own question. "It sounds like the kids need to be taken home and watched so Jackie and Hayden can get a break. I'll get in contact with them and sort everything out so you don't need to. We can also pick your car up from their place and drop it off at the hospital so you have a way to get home, okay? I'll leave the keys tucked in the console and text you later to let you know where we park it. We'll stay with Max and Emi at your place until you come home." She paused before adding, "did I miss anything?"

Shane didn't always love how his mom jumped in to try and fix everything, but this was an occasion where he couldn't be more grateful for her help. "I think that's basically it, yeah. Thank you mom. Sorry to pull you guys into this."

"Don't you dare apologize. Anything you need, you know we'll do. Try not to worry about Max and Emi, they're obviously in good hands with the Pikes and with us. Focus on Ilya, okay? Tell him we love him." Then she added for good measure, "and take care of yourself too, Shane. Please."

He shakily agreed before asking, "can you have the kids call later when they're home? Ilya is really worried about them, I think it would help both him and the kids to hear each other's voices."

"Of course, we'll give you a call once we're at your house . But don't let Ilya look at any screens."

Shane laughed softly and thanked her again. They said their goodbyes, and he hung up, leaving her to sort everything out so he could focus on Ilya. 

He sat in the quiet for a few minutes, trying to keep his mind busy with another breathing exercise. He was almost starting to doze off when Ilya was wheeled back into the room. He opened his eyes when he heard the door open and sat up straighter, wiping away any lingering tear stains from his eyes and cheeks. Fletcher parked the bed where it was before and clicked on the brake. Shane stood up and looked down at Ilya. "Hey," he said softly. "Did it go okay?"

"Yes, was boring. You would have loved it." Ilya said nonchalantly, making Shane smile a little.

"Asshole," he grumbled. He looked up at Fletcher, who was smiling and laughing at their exchange.

"He did fine, it was quick and easy. Dr. Morin should get the results later, and she'll be in to go over everything." Fletcher said before heading out of the room. 

Shane sat back in the chair and held Ilya's hand again, immediately relaxing at the warmth. Ilya rubbed his thumb over the back of Shane's hand and moved his eyes to look at him. "How's your nausea?" Shane asked.

"Better. Thank you. Did you call your parents?"

"Yeah, they're gonna pick up Max and Emi from Hayden's place and drop our car off here. They'll watch them at home until we get back. My mom said she'll have the kids call once they get there." Ilya smiled a little at that and closed his eyes. 

"Do you want to sleep?" Shane asked quietly. "The doctor said it was okay if you do. It's been a long day."

Ilya thought for a moment. "I wish you could lay here with me."

"Me too, but I think that they'd probably draw the line at cuddling in the hospital bed," Shane chuckled, shaking his head. "I can rest my head near you if you want."

Ilya smiled and agreed. Shane stood up and walked to the door of the room, finding the lightswitch and turning one of the large overhead lights off before walking back. He straightened out the blanket that was covering Ilya's body and leaned over to give Ilya a soft kiss on the forehead. He pulled his chair as close to the bed as he could, sitting back down as he whispered an 'I love you' to his husband. He crossed his arms on the bed and rested his head on top of them. His eyes closed just as Ilya lazily rested his arm over his shoulders. He knew Ilya couldn't see him with the neck brace on, but the soothing weight of Ilya's arm over his body made Shane smile. He let out a happy hum, finally feeling some relaxation for the first time since the accident. 

"I love you, too," Ilya quietly replied, gently playing with Shane's hair.

The loud sound of Shane's phone ringer going off jolted him out of a sleep he didn't realize he'd fallen into. It also woke up Ilya, who was wincing at the volume.

"Shane," he groaned. "Too loud. It hurts."

"Fuck, sorry," Shane apologized, fumbling to reach for his pocket while still keeping his head on the bed. He yanked out his phone and answered it without bothering to check the caller ID. "Hello?" His throat was rough from sleeping, and it came out a little harsher than intended.

"Dad?" Maxim asked, his voice quiet and almost scared.

Shane bolted up in his seat, silently cursing himself out for not checking the ID. He pulled it away from his face to see that Max was calling from his mom's phone, and that he and Ilya had been asleep for almost an hour.

"Hey, Maxim," he said after raising the phone back to his ear, correcting his voice to be much softer and kinder. "Sorry about that."

Shane looked over and saw that Ilya's eyes were laser focused on him, obviously wanting to talk to their son. Ilya raised his hand up to reach for the phone, but Shane gently pushed it back down into the bed and shook his head. 

"No screens," he mouthed. Ilya rolled his eyes.

"Is Papa okay?"

Shane could hear Max's voice wobble through the phone, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an effort to keep his emotions in check. "Yeah," he whispered, trying to maintain any semblance of levelness in his tone. "Yeah, Papa is okay. He's awake, do you want to say hi? He can't talk for long because the doctor wants him to rest, okay? Is Emi with you? She can say hi too if she wants."

"Hi," Emi said quietly, letting Shane know she was there too. Hearing her tiny voice almost pushed Shane over the edge into being unable to hold in his heartbreak.

Yuna chimed in. "Hey, honey, they're both here on speaker."

"Okay, one second." Shane pulled the phone away from his ear and put it on speaker. He scooted his chair closer to the top of Ilya's bed where his head was, holding out the phone between the two of them. "Papa can hear you, he's right here."

"Papa?" Max asked.

Ilya closed his eyes and replied, "oh, moy syn, I am here. I am okay."

As soon as he heard Ilya's voice, Max burst into tears. Emi was sniffling too, and he could hear his mom try to soothe them both.

Shane looked at Ilya, who also looked like he was about to start crying. Half of him wanted to pull his husband into his arms and soothe him, and the other half of him wanted to drive home and hug his son and daughter tighter than he ever had before. Feeling torn between the three most important people in his life was excruciating, and he could feel his chest starting to collapse under the weight of it. Shane swallowed hard, trying to stay as composed as possible. He took a few slow breaths and reached down for Ilya's hand. As soon as he was holding it, he squeezed it tightly and didn't let up.

"Maxim," Ilya whispered, "I am so sorry. I am sorry I got hurt, I know it was scary."

"It was my fault, Papa" Max hiccuped through his sobs. "My shoe came off and you tripped on it. It's all my fault you're in the hospital."

Ilya looked up at Shane with wide eyes, and Shane realized he hadn't told Ilya about the flip flop being the cause of why Ilya fell in the first place. Ilya closed his eyes again, scrunching up his face like he was trying to remember it. "No, is not your fault. Don't say that," Ilya replied, his voice firm but loving. "It was an accident. And the important thing is that I am okay. Is just a bonk on the head."

Max sniffled through the phone, seemingly too upset to keep talking.

"Are you coming home?" Emi asked softly, her voice also shaky.

"Yes, moya milaya devushka. Once the doctor says I can leave, we will come home. I think it will be late tonight, and you will probably be asleep."

Shane nodded to no one in particular. "I don't want you staying up to wait for us, okay? We don't know when we'll be home, so Grandma will help you go to sleep at your usual time. As long as we can leave tonight, you'll see Papa in the morning, although he'll still need to rest." He squeezed Ilya's hand again. "Everything is okay. We love you guys."

"Yes, we love you. More than anything. Even more than cookies and cream ice cream, okay?" Ilya added, and Shane could tell he was trying to lighten the mood.

It seemed to work, because Emi gave the tiniest giggle in response. Something inside Shane relaxed at her response.

"I love you too! But I also love ice cream," She replied. Shane watched as Ilya smiled, also seemingly relieved that she was doing a little better.

"There's my girl," Ilya said softly. Noticing that only one of their kids replied, Ilya added, "Maxim, we love you."

Max didn't respond, so Yuna spoke up for him. "He's nodding his head. I think he's done talking, but obviously he loves you too."

"It's okay, Max," Shane said, reassuring everyone that he didn't need to respond if he was too upset. "It's almost your bedtime, so go easy on Grandma tonight, please. Get some sleep, it's been a long day. We'll see you in the morning."

After another moment of goodbyes, Shane hung up and reached to put his phone back into his pocket, being sure to turn down the ringer volume before tucking it away. He looked at Ilya, who was already watching him.

"The flip flop?" Ilya asked cautiously.

Shane sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Hayden and I think it's why you tripped. It flew off of Max's foot while you were spinning him around on the swing."

Ilya looked up at the ceiling. "This concussion just keeps getting stupider."

Despite the severity of the whole situation, Shane couldn't help but laugh at Ilya's annoyance with how he got hurt.

Another forty minutes passed, and Shane accepted that their luck with everything moving along quickly had run out. It was almost three hours after Ilya's CT that Dr. Morin finally came back in to go over the results.

"Well," she said, sitting back on the stool next to Ilya's bed. "As expected, everything looks totally fine. You've got a bad concussion and nothing more serious. Your neck also looks good, so no concerns there."

Shane let out a deep breath. He knew the odds were low of anything more concerning being an issue, but just knowing it was a possibility was difficult for him to think about. Hearing the confirmation that Ilya would be okay was the reassurance he needed.

"You can go home as long as you're following concussion protocol. When Fletcher comes in to take out your IV, he'll give you your discharge paperwork with that information on it. But you," Dr. Morin looked at Shane, "will need to make sure he's following those rules, okay?"

He nodded, giving himself a mental reminder to read through all of the information just to brush up on the instructions that Ilya would need to follow. It had been a long time since either of them had a concussion, and he wanted to make sure he didn't miss anything. "Yeah, of course. Thank you."

She smiled and clapped once. "What do you say we get the neck brace off?"

With that, she carefully unwrapped it from Ilya's neck. Shane watched as his husband shifted in the bed, finally able to move his head and neck around. There were indentation marks on his neck from where the brace was pressing into his skin. Ilya reached up to rub them. He started to wince, but caught himself and put on a straight face. Ilya turned so he could look at Shane and gave a soft smile. For as much as Ilya knew how to read Shane like a book, Shane could do the same for him. He could tell that Ilya was exhausted, sore, and still thinking about their children. He reached up and cupped his husband's cheek, rubbing softly and watching Ilya as he closed his eyes. "I'm glad you're okay. You scared me."

He almost forgot that Dr. Morin was there until she spoke up, snapping him out of his intimate moment. "I'll leave you guys to it. I hope you feel better soon, Ilya, and don't hesitate to come back if anything changes or gets worse. Fletcher should be in soon to take your IV out and send you on your way."

Shane and Ilya both thanked her as she left. 

"Come here," Ilya said, turning to Shane and smiling a little. "Gimme kiss."

Laughing quietly, Shane leaned down and gave him a gentle kiss, pulling away after only a moment.

Ilya frowned, pouting a little. "I will not break, you know."

Shane smiled. "I know you won't," he said. "But you're still concussed and you should be resting instead of getting too turned on in a hospital bed."

"I can be both concussed and horny," Ilya said, earning a laugh from Shane.

"Let's focus on that first one, okay? Recover from the concussion, and then we'll talk."

A dramatic sigh escaped Ilya's lips, and he looked like he was going to say more, but was cut off by Fletcher coming into the room. Shane silently thanked him for his timing.

"Sounds like you're ready to go home," Fletcher said cheerfully. "Let's get you out of here."

Taking out Ilya's IV proved to be less of a challenge than putting it in, but Ilya still whined through it. Once it was done, Fletcher sat on the chair next to Shane and went through all of the discharge instructions. Shane paid as much attention as he could, listening to every word intently to make sure he was going to be able to follow the directions to a T. He thanked the nurse and took the paperwork, folding it up and putting it into his back pocket. 

After Fletcher left the room, Shane stood up, stretched a little, and stepped forward to the edge of the bed. He held out his hand for Ilya to take. "Ready?"

Ilya nodded and took Shane's hand, using it to pull himself up to a sitting position. Shane watched as he steadied himself for a moment, adjusting to being fully upright and vertical for the first time in hours. "Go slow, Ilya. Are you dizzy?"

"A little," Ilya admitted. He took another minute to calibrate and nodded to Shane when he was ready to stand up. Shane carefully pulled him to his feet, putting his other hand on Ilya's waist for extra support. He held it there until Ilya was ready to start walking. He didn't let go of Ilya's hand as they walked through the labyrinth of the emergency room hallways. They only got lost once, but quickly found an exit sign with an arrow pointing them in the right direction.

Once they got to the hospital's front door, Shane pulled out his phone to check the text from his mom about where they left the car. He glanced at the message, reading that she had parked the car four rows away from the hospital, and looked back up toward the lot in front of them. "This way," he said, leading Ilya in what he hoped was the right direction. He was grateful that it was dark outside, knowing that Ilya would've been sensitive to sunlight after the concussion, but it made it a little hard to see where the car was.

It took a few minutes, but Shane finally spotted it. He let go of Ilya's hand, reaching around him instead to put it on the small of his back and continued guiding him until they reached the car. It was unlocked with the keys inside, something Shane would normally freak out about, but he was too exhausted from the day to worry about it now. He pulled the passenger door open for Ilya and helped him inside.

"I feel like a princess," Ilya mumbled, smirking a little bit.

Shane rolled his eyes but smiled. "Only the best for you."

"Maybe I should get a concussion every day if you will treat me like this. Are you going to buckle me in too?"

Shane could've told him to do it himself and closed the door on him, and he knew Ilya was being sarcastic, but something about hearing him ask it after such a difficult day made Shane's heart go gooey. He reached inside and pulled the seatbelt across Ilya's chest and lap. Ilya was surprised, caught off guard that Shane actually did it. He smiled almost bashfully and gave Shane a quiet 'thank you'. Shane gave him a soft kiss on the forehead before gently closing the passenger door and jogging around to the driver's side. He got in, started the car, and took a deep breath before pulling out of the parking spot and the hospital lot.

The drive was only about twenty minutes since there was no traffic, and they spent it mostly in a relatively comfortable silence. Ilya reached for Shane's hand after a mile or two, which Shane happily took. By the time they pulled into their place and Shane parked the car, Ilya had been asleep and quietly snoring for almost ten minutes. Shane hated having to wake him up, but he gently squeezed Ilya's hand. "Hey," he whispered. "Ilya, we're home."

Ilya's snoring stopped as he reached up to wipe his chin, making sure there was no drool escaping. Shane chuckled quietly and let go of his hand. Ilya opened his eyes and looked around. "Where are we?" 

Shane's stomach dropped. "What do you- we're at our home, Ilya. Do you not know where you are?"

Ilya smirked and laughed softly. "No, I do. I am joking. You should see your face." 

Shane could feel his cheeks heat up. "You're such a fucking asshole. You know that, right?" Still, he smiled a little. 

"Sorry," Ilya said through his quiet laughter, "I did not mean to scare you. I am getting through this with humor, ah? I will not do it again."

Rolling his eyes, Shane got out of the car and walked around to Ilya's side. He pulled the door open. "I don't think I should be giving you the princess treatment if you're gonna be mean to me."

Ilya whined. "Noooo, Hollander. I promise I will be nice."

"Fine," Shane grumbled, as if there was any chance that he was actually going to leave Ilya to get out on his own. He wanted to be surprised that even in Ilya's most vulnerable moments, he still found a way to provoke or bother Shane playfully. But he wasn't surprised at all, because it was a very Ilya thing to do.

He reached over his husband and clicked the seatbelt button, pulling it back to the wall of the car. He held out his hand for Ilya to take and closed the door behind him once they were out. Guiding him to the front door was easier than walking around the hospital parking lot because of the porch light, but Shane still made sure to point out the two steps leading to their front door. 

Before he could reach up to push it open, he saw the handle turn and the door swung open. Yuna was standing there, holding it wide for them to get through. Anya was also at her feet, wagging her tail.

"Hey, you two," she said softly as they passed her. "Welcome home." Shane greeted her as she quietly closed it behind them. They all walked down the hallway. "The kids are asleep, although Max had a really difficult time going down. I wouldn't be surprised if he woke up later and came looking for you."

David was sitting on the couch, but stood up when he saw them enter the living room. "He lives!" David said jokingly as he looked at Ilya. 

Ilya chucked in response and sat on the couch. "It will take more than a stupid tire swing to get rid of me."

Shane and Yuna stood near the doorway of the living room, and Yuna gently rubbed his back. "I'm glad you're both okay."

"Thanks for helping with the kids and the car," Shane said to his parents. "It's been a long day, but it was easier without having to figure that out on top of everything."

"Don't even worry about it, kiddo," David said. "We'll get out of your hair so you can rest. There's leftover food in the fridge that you can reheat if you're hungry, but try to get some sleep."

Ilya smiled softly and rested his head back on the couch behind him, closing his eyes. "Sleep sounds good. Thank you."

Shane gave each of his parents a hug and walked them out to their car, thanking them several more times before they got in and pulled out of their driveway towards their front gate. He waved them off and headed back inside once they were out of sight. Food didn't sound good to him after such a chaotic day, so he decided that going straight to bed would be the best choice. He walked back to the living room, took Ilya's hand, and led him upstairs to their room. 

While he knew that he should be happy that the worst was probably behind them, he couldn't shake his nagging worry about Ilya and the kids. 

Sleep it off, he thought. Tomorrow should be better.