Chapter Text
Once again, Ilya finds himself laying on the bathroom floor, staring at the ceiling and imagining the worst. Shane, in pain, suffering, crying out for him. Shane, dead. He hasn’t felt right for days, not since he’d left Shane at the hospital, not since his omega began Dropping.
The thought makes Ilya bring a new wave of nausea, his skinny clammy. Hockey should be a distraction, a chance to forget - as if he could forget the pain he’d caused his omega. Instead, the team doctor had pulled him into the exam room, making him sit while his coach frowned in the corner.
The air in the room was heavy, Ilya forced himself into cool indifference and played into his usual nonchalance. The doctor’s words were earth shattering. Ilya’s world was collapsing in on itself, his heart struggling to beat.
“Your alphesterone levels are higher than we’d expect…a mated alpha experiences this when their omega is in distress.”
The words are not surprising, Ilya has been denying the reality of the situation for some time now. Being unintentionally mated was manageable, difficult but manageable. Dealing with a distressed mate was decidedly not manageable. The effects are obvious; he knows that Shane’s heats have become more frequent despite his omegesterone inhibitor. Caring for Shane during them had been increasingly difficult. Ilya has spent more than one night on the phone with the omega, talking him through the pain and wishing he could do more. Could be there to comfort his omega properly.
Hearing the doctor say it though, using a bunch of English words that Ilya doesn’t understand but knows are important, makes this real. Ilya can no longer deny this. Isn’t sure he wants to.
Coach gives him simple instructions, although they feel almost impossible. “Find your omega and deal with her. You’ll take a couple weeks off to complete your bond then get back on the ice.”
Deal with her.
Ilya knows that Coach is like this, knows that professional sports are like this. In hockey, mates are an inconvenience. Mates take time away from the game. It’s why most players don’t get mated until retirement. It’s not forbidden, but having a mate means always having a priority that isn’t hockey, a choice between hockey and a mate is no choice at all.
Shane is Ilya’s choice. Shane is not something to “deal with.”
Ilya would leave behind hockey, leave behind the ice and the adrenaline, walk away from everything he’s sacrificed if it meant Shane was his.
***
The soonest he can get a flight isn’t soon enough. Ilya packs light, clothes and toiletries. He hesitates before adding the collar he’d bought months ago. Discreet enough to hide beneath clothes, dark leather on the outside with a silk lining inside. A silver tag has been pressed into the leather, waiting for Shane to decide what to engrave there.
Usually, it was the alpha who decided what a tag said. In Russia, it was typical for tags to announce ownership. This is not Russia and Ilya is not his father. Shane will decide what to engrave. Whatever Shane decides, Ilya will be honored just to have put the collar around his omega’s throat. Ilya isn’t sure Shane will even want to. Isn’t sure that he even has the right to ask after all that he’s put the omega through.
Long after he should be asleep, he opens the camera roll on his phone, finds the locked folder, swears to himself to look for only a minute. Inside is the only evidence he has that his omega is, in fact, his. Shane, curled up in bed reading. Shane, sleeping deeply. Shane, smiling into the camera while he lays in Ilya’s bed. Ilya had been allowed to keep the pictures on the condition that the two of them never be in one together, that they remain in a locked folder and are never shown to anyone. Ilya hates the sound that rises out of his throat, the rumble that says his instincts are looking for his omega; fear and helplessness.
He lays in bed and pretends that sleep is a possibility. Rolls over and looks at the last text he’d sent Shane, just a day after leaving that hospital, just hours after making it back to Boston.
Pls let me know if youre ok
The message had been read, but there was no response. Ilya doesn’t know how to feel about that, doesn’t know what it means that someone saw his message and didn’t respond. It makes him worry, Shane has not ignored Ilya’s texts in years, responds in a few hours or sends a quick, snarky response. It makes Ilya smile, for just a second; looking at his omega’s texts and imagining the omega typing, exasperated by his alpha’s words.
Ilya is out of bed, phone to his ear before he’s entirely aware of his actions. The line rings, once, then twice. Ilya is about to hang up, ready to return to his wallowing when someone answers. It’s quiet for a beat. Ilya wonders if his phone has dropped the call. “This is Yuna Hollander.”
Pain and loss expands behind Ilya’s ribs. Shane not answering shouldn’t be a surprise, Ilya doesn’t know how Omega Drop works, but it’s been just over a week; the likelihood that Shane has fully recovered almost zero.
“This is Ilya - Rozanov. I need to see Shane.” He knows that he probably sounds insane, probably isn’t making sense; but this situation doesn’t exactly make much sense either.
“You’re the one that brought Shane to the hospital?”
Ilya had been expecting this line of questioning, but was still unprepared. The most common reason for Omega Drop was abandonment; the pain in his chest is getting worse, the thought of abandoning his omega is almost too difficult to imagine. Except…isn’t that exactly what he’d done?
“I did not think he would want me to stay; now I understand that that is not true.”
Ilya tries to imagine what Ms. Hollander is thinking but finds himself struggling to do so. He presses on. “I should land in Montreal by 6AM your time.”
“My husband will pick you up.”
She does not approve, he can tell. He’s not sure that he cares. Her agreement means that Ilya will be able to see Shane, can be with his omega. Ms. Hollander hangs up and Ilya feels only mild relief. The woman is intense in a way that reminds Ilya of Shane. It will take work for Ms. Hollander to trust him, for him to earn her forgiveness. He is pleased to know that the alpha cares so deeply for her son.
***
Ilya is accustomed to airports, has probably spent half of his career in them. Traveling to his omega, separated by a flight and a car ride and parents (oh God, parents) feels like too much, unfamiliar territory. Ilya has not slept in a week, not since the day before he’d been with Shane, although it feels like a lifetime ago. Montreal’s airport is busy, which slows Ilya's progress significantly and adds to his exhaustion.
David Hollander is standing by the car when Ilya comes out. The sun has not yet broken over the horizon. In the low light, Ilya can see the resemblance between Shane and his father. Shane has his father’s eyes, Mr. Hollander carries himself with the same quiet confidence.
They do not speak. Mr. Hollander opens the trunk, closing it firmly then pauses long enough to grip the wheel, hard enough to turn his knuckles white. It is the most awkward 30 minutes of Ilya’s life, a significant metric when considering his childhood. Every minute brings him closer to his omega, every heartbeat one fewer separating them.
Ilya is relieved that his scent suppressant is so strong. The league requires scent neutrality, and the high quality of the suppressor gives Ilya room to panic without worrying that Mr. Hollander will notice. Omegas are sensitive to scent; Ilya’s scent could help Shane know how worried he has been, how much regret has eaten him alive. Ilya does not know if that scent could add to Shane’s distress and applied the suppressor more thoroughly than usual as a precaution. He doesn't know what to do, doesn’t know what the right answer to any of this is. The internet was - predictably - unhelpful; half of Reddit seemed to think Omega Drop was a red flag for abuse (Ilya found himself agreeing wholeheartedly.) The other half was firm in their conviction that an alpha was not responsible for the “delicate nature” of omegas. Several users had gone so far as to claim that they’d dissolved the bond after their omegas Dropped. Ilya hoped that was not true, had to close the browser then spent the next hour being sick in the bathroom. The thought of abandoning Shane more than he already had was unthinkable; the thought that there could be alphas capable of such cruelty makes Ilya fear just how common such a situation might be.
The medical literature Ilya found was also disappointing. There was nothing from Russia which was not surprising. What literature did exist from, primarily from psychology journals, seemed to focus on the effect of Drop on alphas. More than one paper suggested focusing medical care on managing the alpha’s symptoms, leaving the omega to suffer through Drop alone.
Alone. There was some indication that Omega Drop lasted an average of three months without their alpha’s intervention.
Shane, in pain for three months. Shane, alone for three months. Shane, abandoned.
***
The hospital exists in its own space-time continuum, alive with activity even before 7AM. The directory says that the omega ward is on floor seven. Seven floors between them, Ilya’s stomach is full of lead. He feels nauseous, but each floor they pass is a balm to his soul. The luggage in his hand seems to weigh a thousand pounds, a physical manifestation of his failure.
Unlike the hospital’s atrium, the ward is silent. Each room is hidden behind a heavy door, laminated signs reminding visitors in bold lettering to be quiet. At the nurse’s station, a beta perks up at their arrival. She rushes over at the sight of them, smiling at David and sparing Ilya a cautious glance.
“This is Ilya, he’ll need to be added to Shane’s authorized visitors list.”
The nurse - her name tag says her name is Amy, although Ilya doubts he will remember that, gathers a clipboard from a locked drawer, a pen from the metal cup on the counter. Amy gestures to him then shoves the clipboard into his hands. There is a packet there. The first page asks for his demographic information. Name. Date of birth. Designation. Phone number. The last line gives Ilya pause. Relationship to patient. This is not a conversation that has been had, although biology seems to demand it be had sooner rather than later.
Mr. Hollander looks over his shoulder, Ilya cannot decide if the action is disconcerting or not. Mr. Hollander answers on his behalf. “You’re his alpha, Rozanov.” The words are spoken with a firmness that tells Ilya that this is not a choice. His words are tinged with sadness, quiet anger.
After that is the hospital’s privacy policy, as well as their expectations for visitors’ behavior. Ilya skims these but knows the gist so does not linger. Two signatures between him and his omega. Amy gives the papers a thorough examination, scans them into the computer then gestures for them to follow her. A room halfway down the hall is the same as every other, the only difference being the bone-deep, instinctual draw that Ilya feels to it. Her tone is apologetic but leaves no room for argument, “Once Shane is more stable, he’ll be discharged into Ilya’s care for further recovery. I can’t let you in once Shane accepts Ilya into his nest.”
A nest. The thought is almost nice, that Shane could feel safe enough to nest, although Ilya knows that nesting is also done to alleviate stress. The reality is unpleasant. Ilya feels a hand on his shoulder, looks over and sees the fire in Mr. Hollander’s eyes. The message is clear: watch yourself. David Hollander leaves after a minute, reluctance in each step, afraid for his only son.
The look he receives from the nurse is similar. Protective, a warning. She opens the door, hinges silent. The lights are off, curtains drawn shut to keep out the sunlight, the only light in the room is from a small nightlight which gives off a gentle glow. Ilya takes a step in, the door behind him closing. There is a gray curtain separating the door from the room’s main space, but it cannot hide the scent that permeates the air. The scent is definitely Shane’s, although its usual sharpness is hidden beneath pain, sadness, anxiety; something else that Ilya can’t name but knows is Shane’s omega calling for his alpha.
Moving the curtain aside just enough to enter, Ilya braces himself, unsure what to expect and fearing what he might find. What he finds is awful. The nest is pitiful; the bed it has been made on is uncomfortable and too small, the blankets the hospital have provided look too rough, too impersonal. The only two pillows have long since lost their softness, flattened by time and use. The panic button on the wall is bright red, within arm’s reach. The button gives Ilya comfort, the knowledge that help is so close by. Worst of all is the omega situated in the center of the nest (does this even count as a nest?) Shane is curled up tightly, vulnerable and sad in a way that Ilya didn’t know was possible for such a strong man. The scent is stronger now that Ilya has gotten closer, sadder and more desperate.
Kneeling next to the bed, Ilya puts a hand on Shane’s shoulder, the contact like fire spreading beneath his skin, Shane blinks wearily, his skin has taken on a gray undertone, dark purple bruises around bloodshot eyes. At the sight of Ilya, Shane freezes, disbelief and caution infiltrating his distress scent. “Ilya?” His voice is rough from lack of use, smaller than Ilya has ever heard it, confusion in the syllables.
This is not the Shane Hollander that Ilya has come to know. Ilya tries to project calm into his scent, comfort. How successful he is, he is unsure. There must be some success, Shane pulls at his clothes, almost too weak to be noticeable. An invitation to an omega’s nest is sacred. Entering is something done only by an omega’s most trusted individuals. It is not uncommon for family to be forbidden, mates and children being the only exceptions. Ilya feels a flash of gratitude, then remembers that Shane bringing him into the nest is instinct, not Shane.
Shane directs Ilya to lay with his head on the pillows, wraps himself around his alpha as closely as possible. Ilya is frozen, moving only so much as he is directed; his omega seems to find this unacceptable, moves to put Ilya’s arms around his body and snuggles even closer, resting his nose against Ilya’s neck gland.
This level of intimacy is new to Ilya. This is something that only mates do and only in private. We are mates. Ilya remembers. The lack of privacy is unavoidable, there is a camera in the corner of the room that Ilya is all too aware of; but this is as close as they will get to privacy right now. Later, they will have the privacy that they both crave. Later feels much too far away.
Ilya breathes in deeply, taking in the scent of his omega, whose scent has softened into sweetness; Shane has closed his eyes, breathing deeply and cooing in that way that content omegas do.
Ilya finds himself overwhelmed with exhaustion; purring without thought as the world fades into darkness.