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The ticking of the clock was insistent, bordering on maddening.
Nadia looked around her dorm room, letting out a small breath. She had spent nine hours decorating it when she moved in in August, and at the time she was extraordinarily proud. It felt good, having her own space.
Now, it felt suffocating.
The freshly eighteen year old stood from her bed, walking to her window sill and sitting on the small ledge. She tucked a loose blond curl behind her ear, scratching her freckled cheek. Rain splattered against the window pane, the sound gentle against the glass. Montréal Octobers liked their rain.
Despite knowing tidbits of how awful the Metros were to her father, Nadia found herself wishing he still played with them. She shook her head slightly. She didn’t, really. She just wanted to be less alone.
When Nadia moved out for university, the Hollander-Rozanov family was ecstatic. She was the last to leave the nest, which came with its own set of feelings for her parents, but she was also the first one in her immediate family to pursue post-secondary school.
Dimitri followed in their fathers’ footsteps, pursuing professional hockey. And God, was he good. He had won Canada a gold medal in the 2042 Olympics at just eighteen, then did it again in 2046 at twenty-two. He was drafted to the New York Admirals when he was seventeen, much to Shane and Ilya’s chagrin, and he was a hell of a defenseman. His team had won the Cup once, and they had had a solid start to their season. Luka and Nadia shared an enthusiasm for hockey, but Dimitri took to it like a moth to a flame. He thrived with competition, control, and champion. He was cunning but concise, and ruthless in his play. Nadia knew her parents were proud of him and his legacy.
Luka was much more subdued in his career, having gotten an apprenticeship for carpentry right out of high school. He was a math genius, but entirely uninterested in academia. He played a variety of sports as a kid, but wasn’t overly passionate about it. Not in the way Shane, Ilya, or Dimitri were. He enjoyed working with his hands and building quality furniture, according to him, as that was the answer he gave everyone when they asked. Nadia had a hunch that he liked the routine, the predictability of it. Luka was a lot like their dad in that way. He was kind, perceptive, and subdued. He liked visiting the cottage, tinkering with broken things, and baking. He and his wife, Megan, were planning for children. Nadia didn’t know how she felt about being old enough to be an aunt.
Nadia knew from a young age that she would be going to university. She learned to read at eighteen months old, and was rarely sighted without a book in her hand. She loved literature, social studies, and art. Shane and Ilya, endlessly proud of all their children and their hobbies, supported her in her love of the arts, even if they didn’t entirely understand it. She had played hockey at the age of five for one short season before deciding she’d rather act. The retired hockey stars were quick to enroll her in theatre, and she’d been in productions ever since.
Nadia loved it. She was a natural, on the stage, backstage, in the booth. She adored theatre, and all that came with it. The noise, the chaos, the laughter, the struggle of rehearsals and cold feet— then the quiet moment when the curtains opened and the audience fell hush, and the story unfolded on stage. It was magic— better than. Nadia had an extensive vocabulary, and was fluent in English, French, and Russian, and she still hadn’t found a word for the sheer exhilaration that theatre gave her.
Maybe one day she’d make one up.
Brown eyes drifted away from the window, landing on the bottle of antidepressants on the nightstand.
That was another reason for Ilya and Shane’s anxiety about Nadia moving to a different province.
Realistically, Ottawa was only a two, maybe three hour drive from Montréal, but in a crisis, those three hours could cost everything.
Nadia was diagnosed with major depressive disorder when she was fifteen, after a rough year of low mood, secret self-harm, and angry outbursts when someone came too close to discovering the truth. Ilya took it the hardest, though Nadia would never admit that she knew that. Her brothers were conceived with Shane’s genetics, and while that introduced some other mental health struggles, they were safe from hereditary depression.
Nadia was not so lucky.
The night after she got her diagnosis, Nadia sat at the top of the staircase, listening to Ilya spiral with guilt while Shane worked to soothe him. Worries about his daughter meeting the same fate as his mother, anxious over the long road of recovery and management ahead of them, guilt over being the one to give this burden to her, devastation over one of his babies feeling as low as he did.
Shane rationalized. He soothed. But those aches were so deeply ingrained into Ilya’s being, the family knew they wouldn’t disappear. Not completely.
They managed. With lots of support from David and Yuna, and Rose and Svetlana, and the Pike crew, and the Centaurs, retired or otherwise.
Nadia knew she wasn’t alone. She knew that with the way Shane would fix a stray curl on her head every time he saw her, the way Luka would always tease her about the time he convinced her cattails were nature’s marshmallows, how Ilya would hug her a little tighter to his chest, that Dimitri would write her initials on his stick before he taped it. She knew that she was loved.
But sometimes the moonlight seeping into the window of your dorm room had a peculiar way of convincing you otherwise.
Nadia let out a slow breath, eyes transfixed on the full bottle of venlafaxine on the nightstand. It was the third medication she had tried, and it seemed to be working thus far. Not enough to completely ease the ache, but enough to help her try. Help her live.
She stood from the windowsill, wringing her hands and pacing the room.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Something heavy perched itself in Nadia’s chest, taking residence in the empty cavern where her heart should be. Her fingers were tingling, sweat accumulating on the back of her neck. She took a shaky breath, the sound rattling through her ears.
Fuck.
An itch born of loneliness grew under her skin, insisting on its presence. All consuming grief crawled up her throat, demanding to be acknowledged. Tears welled in her eyes, the sheer amount of devastation absorbing the teen.
Nadia grabbed her phone and dialled one of two numbers she had ever bothered to memorize.
~
Shane did not like having a quiet house.
This came as a surprise to him, given his desire for order and his obsessive rituals to maintain predictability. Somewhere in the past twenty-six years, he had grown to love the chaos of his family.
Luka was an easy baby, disrupting their lives in ways that felt perfectly poised. Then came Dimitri, who was definitely more than his brother, but so incredibly beautiful, Shane couldn’t imagine their life without him.
Nadia came a few years later, when Shane felt himself growing restless. Between him and Ilya, the Canadian definitely was less comfortable with chaos, much less flexible with change. But Shane had so much love to give. Too much to be dispersed between his growing boys and his ambitious husband.
When he proposed the idea of a third baby to Ilya, the Russian was eager to jump on. Both hockey stars had taken to parenting with the ease of breathing. They loved their children more than they loved anything else in the entire world.
Which is why the silence of the house felt so deafening.
Shane loved quiet moments; some of his favourite memories with his little ones (who really were not so little), was when all three of the kids fell asleep during movie night, or sat around the campfire at the cottage.
Shane missed the predictability of the unpredictable.
His kids (his babies, oh, he missed them), were all passionate and beautiful, and Shane adored them with every fiber of his being.
When Nadia moved out it felt like the end of an era. Like a chapter of his life had come to an end, and it threw him off kilter.
It helped knowing that she was safe. Safe and pursuing something she’s always wanted to pursue. Montréal was a good city, despite Shane’s grievances about their hockey team, and he knew Nadia would thrive at Concordia University. She was an incredible writer, and while her studies focused mostly on literature, she had enrolled with a minor in the theatre program.
Things seemed to be going well; Ilya and Shane had called her at least twice a week since she moved, and Nadia sent frequent texts about her classes and the handful of friends she managed to make.
Shane really wasn’t super worried. Honestly. Mostly.
He was sitting against his headboard with a book on his lap that he was definitely reading and not just using as a prop to disguise his deep thinking. He wouldn’t do that.
Ilya was in the shower, the steam billowing out into the bedroom as Shane gazed at the picture of Luka, Dimitri, and Nadia he had framed on the wall. They were about twelve, ten, and four, and the picture was taken of a summer at the cottage. Dimitri was draped over Luka’s shoulders from where they sat on the couch, and Nadia was sideways over the eldest’s lap, the three of them giggling. Their smiles lived forever in the photograph.
Shane felt his own lips tick up as he remembered.
During Shane’s nostalgia trip, Ilya had gotten out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. He smiled softly at his husband, crossing the lamplit room and walking around the bed to Shane’s side. He stood in front of him, grabbing his chin and gently tilting it up.
“I miss them too,” he murmured softly.
Shane sighed, letting Ilya take the weight of his head in his hand. “I feel old.”
Ilya smiled. “We are old, solnyshko. So very old. Old as Scott Hunter and his dinosaur bones.”
Shane snorted. “Asshole.”
“Mm, you love me,” Ilya cooed, leaning down and connecting their lips in a soft kiss. Shane hummed into Ilya’s mouth, kissing him back and holding his wrist loosely.
A tongue languidly brushed against a bottom lip, a pleased sound reverberating through the room. Shane’s hand roamed down Ilya’s chest, feeling over his defined muscles; he’d gotten a little soft through the years, but maintained regular exercise to help with his depression. Shane loved his body.
Ilya broke the kiss, panting against Shane’s mouth and grinning. He rested their foreheads together, opening his mouth to speak before a phone rang.
Ilya groaned as his husband huffed a laugh, recognizing the ringtone instantly. Shane had the same three for all the kids, and they, with Ilya, were the only ones who could bypass his strict do-not-disturb policy.
“Like they never left,” Ilya complained playfully, flopping down on the bed next to Shane. The Canadian reached for his phone, patting Ilya’s stomach playfully. “It’s probably Dimitri, wanting to talk about the game.”
Ilya hummed, watching his husband with a fond smile. “Da. He played well tonight.”
Shane nodded in agreement, looking at the phone with a slight furrow of his brows. He answered, bringing it to his ear.
“Nadia? It’s late, honey, are you okay?”
Ilya immediately sat up a little straighter, leaning closer to Shane so he could listen to the conversation. A tinny, anxious breath sounded through the speaker.
“Dad?”
Nadia felt relief wash over her frame as she held her phone like a lifeline. She sank to the floor, curling into herself tightly as she spoke.
Shane nodded a little to assure himself, quietly regulating.
“Yeah, baby, I’m right here. Papa’s right here, I’m going to put you on speaker, okay?” A small noise sounded from the line. Shane chose to interpret it as confirmation. He clicked the button, holding the phone between himself and his husband. “Where are you?”
Nadia sniffled, trying to swallow around the lump in her throat. Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Um—” her voice broke on the discombobulated syllable. Shane took a steady breath, pleased when his girl copied him. Nadia tried again.
“‘M in my dorm. S-Sorry, didn’t wanna— didn’t mean to worry you. ‘M fine, promise.”
Ilya tsked, eyes concerned as he looked at the phone, desperate to see his baby’s face.
“Nyet. No apology, malyshka, none. Daddy and I are here, da? Deep breaths. Are you alone?”
A strangled whimper escaped the young adult. “Yes. Yeah, ‘m alone, and I hate it. I hate it, papa. Je ne sais— I don’t… I hate it. I don’t have any real friends yet, I eat dinner alone every night, this city is so big, it’s so big, and I’m not ready. I’m not ready, I’m never ready, I need to come home, I have to, I can’t—” Nadia rambled, breaking off into deep, sorrowed sobs. They were quiet but heavy.
Shane looked away, tears gathering in his own eyes. He cleared his throat, glancing at Ilya. The Russian wasn’t in a better state; eyes red with unshed tears. He took the phone from Shane, taking a slow breath.
“I know. I hear you, docha. You need to breathe, yes? In… slowly, slowly. Da, very good. Blow out… good. You are doing good, baby.”
“Papochka, I can’t do this,” came the whispered reply after the intentional breaths.
“You can,” Ilya murmured easily, his tone soothing. “Is very scary. You will probably want to quit again. But you are doing it. You are so brave. Just like your daddy.” Ilya smiled at Shane, his expression sad but caring.
Nadia inhaled shakily. “Daddy?” She sounded infinitely younger. Shane was seconds away from teleporting to her and wrapping her in his arms forever.
“Right here, baby. Do you feel safe?” They all knew what that question meant. Shane prayed to any god out there that the answer was yes.
“Y-Yeah,” she whispered, letting her eyes wander to the medication on the nightstand. “‘S better when you’re on the phone.”
Shane nodded, taking the phone back from Ilya. “Good, good. I’m glad, little one. I can stay on the phone with you as long as you need, okay? Do you want to talk about it?”
Nadia pulled her knees a little closer to her chest. Three hours away, Ilya stood and left the room with his own phone.
“I dunno. I just… I hate being like this.” Shane made a quiet noise of understanding, watching his husband leave the room. He knew exactly where he was going. “I hear you, Nadia. I do.”
~
In the hallway, Ilya dialled Dimitri’s number, taking the moment of privacy to take a steadying breath. His son answered on the fourth ring.
“Papa! Did you see the game tonight? I made a crazy pass up the left wing— helped us score the winning goal.”
Despite the situation, Ilya smiled. “I watched, synochek. Dad and I were very proud. Metros played strong, but you were stronger.”
Dimitri beamed down the phone line. “I’ll be in Ottawa for a game next week. I’m gonna come for lunch after practice, I’ll give you and dad the tickets for my seats then, cause I’ll forget to do it otherwise.”
Ilya chuckled, giving a small nod. “Da. Sounds good. Can I ask favour?”
“You want my autograph?”
“I have enough macaroni art from back in day. Much more valuable. No, this is about your sister.”
“Papa, she’s an adult. I know you and dad worry, but she doesn’t need a bodyguard to walk her to class—”
“She’s experiencing crisis. Small one. But enough—”
“—Enough to worry about. Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Ilya could hear rustling over the phone as Dimitri grabbed his keys and left his hotel room, despite having just gotten back from celebratory drinks. “Is she alone?”
Ilya found himself wishing, not for the first time, that his brother was as caring of him as his children were of each other. Pride and love quickly replaced that fleeting thought.
“Da. She is in dorm room. Dad is on phone with her.
“Okay. Okay, that’s good. Can you let her know I’ll be there in about… ten minutes?”
“Of course. Thank you, solnyshko. I love you.”
“I love you too, Papa. I’ll update when I can.” With that, Dimitri ended the call, hurrying out of his hotel to hail a taxi.
Ilya held his phone, looking down at the dark screen. He took a deep breath. He’d have to call Luka, then David and Yuna to keep them updated. That could happen tomorrow. The Russian slipped back into the bedroom, smiling to himself as he heard Shane.
“—then Papa fell in the lake. Which was entirely his fault, really.” Ilya’s chest grew warm at Nadia’s watery giggle.
“Is slander, Nadia, do not believe him. Dad is filthy liar.” Nadia laughed again, sniffling quietly.
“I don’t know, Papa, seems pretty true to me.”
Ilya sat down on the bed next to Shane, pressing a reassuring kiss to his cheek as he settled. “Betrayed by my own daughter. I will never get over this.”
Nadia made a small noise of amusement, falling quiet. Ilya’s eyes softened. He placed his hand on Shane’s thigh, noticing his husband’s tension. Shane met his eyes, giving a small nod to assure them both of her safety. They let the quiet linger for a couple minutes before Ilya spoke.
“Nadenka? Dimitri is in Montréal because of his game tonight. I spoke to him on the phone, and he is going to check on you. Should be there in five minutes. Is okay?”
The girl let out a small breath of relief.
“Yeah. Yes, that’s… that’s okay. That’s so nice of him, to check on me,” she whispered.
Shane leaned his head on Ilya’s shoulder. “He loves you, honey. So much. We all do. Tomorrow we can talk more about it, but would you be okay with Papa and I driving up for a visit? I know Thanksgiving is coming up soon, maybe Papa and I can drive up a couple days before, then drive back with you? Instead of you taking the train.”
Ilya wrapped his arm around Shane’s shoulders, gazing at the phone as he rested his chin atop his husband’s head. “Does that sound good to you, moya lyubov?”
“Mhm. That sounds really nice. Can we do Thanksgiving at the cottage? An’ my reading week too?”
“That sounds perfect, little one,” Shane replied gently. “Can you take another sip of water for me?”
Nadia made a quiet noise of agreement, opening her water bottle and taking a long sip. Ilya nodded a little, feeling a slight amount of his own tension melt from his body. Shane hummed.
“Good. Thank you, baby. Are you in bed? Or still on the floor?”
Nadia sniffed. “Still on the floor. I’m—” she was cut off by a knock at the door. Ilya felt Shane relax into him slightly.
“Will be Dimitri, docha. Can you let him in?”
Some shuffling was heard as Nadia set the phone out and stood up, unlocking her dorm room door and opening it.
~
Dimitri stood nervously outside of Nadia’s dorm room. He had gotten through security by giving his ID and a little bit of bribery, then promptly made his way to his sister’s dorm room after scrolling through their text messages to find where she had sent her mailing address so he could send her a birthday card (it was actually a birthday box… a very large box with many gifts. University essentials, he had claimed, when she asked about the new laptop).
Regardless, he stood outside of her dorm, grateful for the later hour on a school night. He didn’t feel like he would reasonably be recognized and questioned.
A moment after he knocked, the door swung open, revealing his teary-eyed, disheveled little sister. Dimitri made a quiet noise that attempted to be comforting, stepping into her room and closing the door in one motion before pulling her into a tight hug.
“Oh, Dia,” he murmured, rocking her back and forth as she began to cry again. His large frame held her securely as he walked further into her room, eyes landing on her phone. He pulled away for a moment to grab the phone, checking to see that they were still connected to Shane. Nadia burrowed closer as Dimitri spoke.
“Hi, Dad. Hi, Papa. I’ve got her. I’m gonna get some more water in her, and maybe a shower. She smells like dorm room,” at that, Nadia smacked his back, making an indignant noise. Dimitri laughed. Shane and Ilya did too, mostly out of relief. “Then get her into bed. Anything else I should do?” He asked, the question directed at both his parents and sister. Nadia gave a small shake of her head.
Ilya’s voice came through the phone. “Ah. Get her some Tylenol. She gets migraine after big cry.”
Nadia made a small noise. “Oh. Yeah, I do.”
Shane hummed through the phone. “I got her a value pack when she moved. There should be extra-strength capsules in her first aid kit. Make sure she takes two, okay?”
Dimitri laughed. “You’re both helicopter parents. I’ll get the kid some Tylenol,” he decidedly ignored Nadia’s protest of “Technically an adult”— “Then I’ll tuck her in. Extra tight. And make sure Ms. Rabbit is secure next to the pillow too.”
Ilya laughed fondly. “Yes, Ms. Rabbit is important part of routine.”
Nadia huffed, pulling back from Dimitri and grabbing her water bottle as she rubbed her puffy eyes. “You guys are bullies. Dad, save me.”
Shane’s voice was calming. “Let your brother take care of you, baby. I love you so much, yeah? I love both of you so much,” he murmured to his children. “And I miss you. You call me whenever you need. Whenever you want. That goes to both of you.”
Dimitri and Nadia both nodded, despite knowing their parents couldn’t see them. The hockey player pulled his sister close to him.
“We know, Dad,” he promised for both of them. “We love you both so much.”
“So much,” Nadia echoed.
“Good,” Shane murmured. “Get some rest. My babies.”
“Our babies,” Ilya corrected through the phone speaker. “Goodnight, little ones.”
Nadia and Dimitri bid their goodnights, and for the first time since August, Nadia didn’t feel alone.