Work Text:
Irina is never entirely sure if she regrets her choice.
Most days, she thinks she does. Most days, she watches her son wake into a world that is just as cruel to him as it was to her, and wants to scream at how she left him. Most days, she wants to smack herself for not having tried anything else- for not having run as fast and far away from Grigori as she could when she still had legs, and taken Ilya and Alexei with her. Most days, she wants to kick quite a lot of people in the chest- all the talking heads and so-called fans who don’t understand a thing about her baby, who look at Ilya’s brash, rough exterior, and think that’s the sum of his parts.
She cannot do any of this anymore, of course. She cannot scream, kick, or hit anything- not when she no longer has a body, arms, legs, or a mouth.
These days, Irina simply is. A presence tied to the golden cross around Ilya’s neck.
Most days, she regrets it- that the only thing she can do in her son’s life now is watch. She does not know how she ended up like this, only that she feels an ever-present, formless tug telling her to let go, to pass on, and she always, politely, resists and tells it to shove it.
She will not leave her son, not again- not when she has seen what it did to him-
(Irina died in pain, alone on her bedroom floor, hand clutching an empty pill bottle. The first things that made her aware again were Ilya’s loud sobs, screams, what have I done why can’t I move what is this-)
No. No matter what this strange existence is, she will not leave Ilya again. Even if he doesn’t know she’s here, even if she cannot do anything to help him at all.
(There are days when she sees in Ilya the same darkness she had, and those days terrify and sadden her, because those are the days that she doesn’t regret her choice. Those are the days that she knows exactly what Ilya is feeling, and the days that remind her why she chose to leave, in the end.
Those are not good days.)
But aside from when she had first existed like this, in those dark days when Ilya barely ate, slept, and Grigori would yell at her son for the terrible crime of feeling-
Irina has never regretted her choice as much as she does now.
She is floating (hovering? Existing? She has never known what to call it) above Ilya’s shoulder, watching as her baby sits across from Yuna Hollander, and she is helpless to do anything but watch as Yuna Hollander finds Irina’s son lacking.
It’s not immediately obvious, of course. Today has been a whirlwind that started so sweet- Irina had politely recused herself to a different room, though she can never go too far from where her cross (and Ilya) are always, and done her best to drown out the sounds of Shane Hollander and her son waking up together. Things had been so good, and then-
David Hollander, a nerve-wracking drive, and We are lovers, I love him.
(Irina also does not understand why Shane had been so upset at the word lovers, but it is possibly some delicate Western sensibility.)
And now, her son and Shane are sitting across from David and Yuna Hollander, being forced to bear their souls open for judging eyes. And Shane’s eyes are everywhere, looking at his parents, at Ilya, and the not-very-interesting spaghetti and meatballs, but Ilya-
Ilya is tense, and not quite looking at either Hollander parent. He is certainly aware of them, in a way that Irina knows from her own childhood, growing up in tiny communal housing with her four older siblings and a mother who always yelled, and a father that was never home but when he was, it was impossible to not be aware.
Irina knows why Ilya is tense, knows the scars that both she and Grigori have left on their son, how they have coloured Ilya’s perception of family, even though Irina had tried her best to be for Ilya and Alexei what her own family wasn’t. Ilya is doing a very good job right now of appearing mostly unaffected, but Irina knows.
(And she can never atone for it, the harm she’s caused.)
But because Ilya is not fully looking at the Hollander parents, he doesn’t quite see the way that Yuna Hollander is eyeing him. But Irina does.
Irina sees, and she does not like it- does not like the barely-noticeable hitch in Yuna’s voice before she addresses Ilya, does not like the way that Yuna keeps starting with ‘Ro-’ before aggressively correcting to ‘Ilya’, does not like the disapproving lip curl hidden behind a sip of wine, and judging words hidden behind seemingly-simple questions.
Loyalty to Boston, as though it will be easy for Ilya to leave the first home he’s found since she died.
David Hollander is also unsure about her son- Irina desperately wants to pour wine over his head for that comment about ‘a nice man from Montréal’. But it is not the same as it is with Yuna.
Ilya, as much as she hates to say it, is used to dealing with disapproving fathers. David Hollander is probably nothing like Irina’s good for nothing ex-husband, not if the way that Shane has spoken of his father over the years is any indication. But still, paternal disapproval is an old hand for Ilya- as much as Irina hates it, she knows that nothing David Hollander could do will ever compare to Grigori Rozanov.
Yuna, on the other hand-
Irina did many things wrong in her short life, but she always tried her best to be a good mother to her sons, even when she fell short. And Ilya knows pain, knows loss, knows the aching gray of depression and the red fury of parental rage-
But the one thing that he never knew, was maternal disapproval.
Irina had done her best to not be like her own mother- she had sung to Ilya, bandaged every ache, taught him how to cook and listened patiently to everything he’d ever had to tell her, his gap-toothed smile a perfect copy of her own. And she knows she’d gotten it wrong sometimes, had known it when she watched Alexei growing away from her, had known it when she’d first woken as this ghost-spectre-being and seen her twelve-year-old son crying silently at night that he wasn’t enough for her to stay-
But she also knows, had died with the knowledge, that Ilya knew she loved him. More than anything else in her life, she had loved him.
And there has never been another maternal figure in his life after her- Polina had never even tried, only being with Grigori for the money and status. Ilya had never had another, not until now, with the potential for all that Shane and Ilya can be, and Yuna Hollander hovering over it and finding Ilya lacking.
Irina sees this all, hates it, and regrets her choice- regrets that she is not really here.
And she cannot do anything about it.
______________________________
Perhaps, she is being a bit unfair.
After all, Yuna (and David) Hollander have not had the… experience that Irina has had, over the past nine years. They have not had her vantage point of seeing Ilya and Shane grow together.
Irina grew up Orthodox, during a time when everyone knew that the local priest might be hiding a gun inside his cassock. She cannot not say that she was ever truly faithful to the minutiae, but she had found comfort in the rituals, in the quiet murmuring of prayer and the smell of incense, in the surety of red-dyed eggs on Pascha.
She had never put much stock into anything said on social issues though, which turned out to be a good thing, the first time Ilya had kissed a boy.
(And also for the fact that she is clearly not currently in Heaven or Hell, the church has definitely missed some things along the way. But that is neither here nor there.)
She remembers the shock, when Ilya drew Sasha into a corner and they’d oh-so-hesitantly kissed- she had never known anyone in her life who was- of those inclinations. But more than that, she remembers the fear.
The fear of what could happen to her son- not after death, she had never fully believed in a vengeful, wrathful god- but of what would happen if anyone, if Grigori found out.
She had not been happy for Ilya, then. She had been petrified, and scared, and unable to do anything about it, but she had not been happy.
Over the years, though, she has grown to be very happy, seeing Ilya with Shane Hollander.
Shane balances Ilya, makes her son smile in a way that no one else, aside from perhaps little Sveta, ever has. Shane has brought out parts of Ilya that she’d watched Grigori do his best to squash- her son’s kindness, empathy, playful mischievousness, and sense of love.
It’s not been an easy path, of course. Just because Shane makes Ilya happy, does not mean that Irina’s fear has completely vanished- but it has lessened greatly, since Grigori died. But she has always loved her son, and she let her fears overcome her once- she will not let it do so again. There is nothing Ilya could do that would make her stop loving him. So, though she still fears, for what Russia could still do, the cruelty that has always been part of the world, she loves how happy Ilya is more.
And beyond her fear, beyond Russia, Ilya and Shane are of course not perfect people. They have never made it easy for each other, Shane’s anxious, perfectionist nature clashing with Ilya’s self-destructive tendencies and wild spirit.
Irina has watched them hurt each other.
But she has also watched them come back together time and again, seen how they make each other stronger and better; something Yuna has not had the privilege of seeing from up close.
On top of all this, she knows, too, that Yuna is surely just trying to protect Shane the way that Irina would protect Ilya if she could; a mother wanting what is best for her son.
So yes, perhaps she is being a bit unfair.
But then, if there is one thing that Irina learned early on, growing up when Товарищ Брежнев was declining and there was no food to go around for her and her siblings and her mother smacked her upside the head when she asked what it meant that their neighbour had been taken away for showing signs of sluggish schizophrenia-
Life is not fair. She is dead, and cannot do anything about it except exist with that knowledge- life is unfair.
And she will not be fair to those who are not fair to her son.
______________________________
It’s a few days after that initial meeting, when Ilya and Shane are back at the Hollander’s for lunch, that Irina hears it.
Things have been… okay. Everyone is still hesitant, dancing around each other- Shane and Ilya still learning how to show their love in front of others, and Yuna and David still learning this new iteration of their son, and the man that he loves.
Growing pains. Irina has been whispering as many reassurances into Ilya’s ear as she can, though she knows he cannot hear her.
(But maybe, if the number of times he touches her cross is any indication, some part of him can.)
But it’s while lunch is still getting ready that Yuna and David excuse themselves upstairs, leaving Ilya and Shane to stir the vegetable soup (or more like, leaving Ilya, because David seems to have latched on to the fact that Irina’s son knows his way around a kitchen, while Shane is helpless with anything more complicated than a blender).
Irina follows them up, wanting to give the boys their privacy, and shamelessly wanting to know more about these people who are likely to play a big future role in her son’s life.
And, well-
“I just don’t know about him, David.” Yuna is pacing in the couple’s bedroom. “He’s so- I don’t know!”
“He’s been nice, so far.” David Hollander is a bastion of calm against his wife’s frenetic energy. Irina has not yet forgiven him, for that previous insensitive comment- but she is grateful that someone, at least, is standing up for Ilya right now. “And Shane li- loves him, Yuna.”
“I know.” Yuna has not calmed down, if the way that I know came out is any indication. “He’s been polite, and he helped Shane’s anxiety, and he’s even been sweet! But- it’s still so new, and it’s hard. How are we supposed to let go of years- I’ve hated that boy for years, David.”
Oh, Irina wants to smack her.
“We’ve never really known him though, have we?” David once again manages to temper Irina’s vengeful impulses. “We’ve never had a single real conversation with him before, Yuna.”
“Maybe, but I know this.” Yuna stops moving, finally, but the look in her eyes is hard. “For years, he has been nothing more than an obstacle in Shane’s path- chirping him, playing rude and rough on the ice, taking attention and stealing awards that should have belonged to our son. Shane would be known as a once-in-a-generation talent if not for that boy. I know that’s not fair of me, but- it’s more than that! You said it yourself the other day, he’s a ladies’ man! He’s been known to sleep with every willing woman with a pulse, and he didn’t even deny it when you asked. Who’s to say he won’t get bored, or he’ll think that Shane’s not worth it after all, or-”
Oh, that is it.
Stolen? Stolen! Ilya’s never stolen an award in his life- does Yuna not realize, that the same could be said of Shane? That Shane is the one stealing awards from Ilya, taking away from Ilya’s spotlight? It is neither of their faults that the media has always pushed them together, never allowed one to exist without the other- surely, Yuna must realize that.
These two boys have never known professional hockey without each other- and Irina thinks that is a good thing. They have pushed each other beyond what each would be on his own.
And beyond that, Irina has never begrudged her son’s sexual life- has done her best to avoid being in the room every time, of course, but Ilya is an adult. And though Irina knows that the rotating hordes of women have never made Ilya happy, exactly-
He is an adult, and free to make his own choices, and Irina will do nothing more than quietly support him along the way.
(Besides, some of his choices are quite fun- Irina can’t deny she loves her son’s fast car collection, even when others side-eye Ilya for it. If she were alive, she would have loved to be beside him in the passenger seat, feeling the wind in her hair.)
“Sweetheart, they’ll hear you.” David’s voice is still calm, but a bit more urgent, cutting into Irina’s still-violent thoughts. “I admit I’ve worried about his reputation too, but- we can’t take everything people say at face value. If we listened to all the news on Shane, then I guess we raised a hockey robot who can’t feel anything but the ice.”
Hah. Irina would snort at that, if she could.
Yuna gives her husband a fierce glare, but David continues. “We can’t be those parents- the ones who refuse to accept their child’s partner and only make things worse.”
Yuna sighs, and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know. I promise, I’m not going to try to drive him away or anything, I just-” She sighs. “What’s stopping him from leaving Shane and flouncing off with some woman one day? He’s so easily willing to leave his original six team, what’s stopping him from leaving our son?”
And that’s-
Idiocy about legacy teams aside, Irina can’t deny that she has had similar thoughts, but coming from a different vein. Why can Ilya not just leave Shane, and find a woman to love, someone who will make life easier for him?
But Irina also has nothing but time these days, and time to do nothing but think and ponder.
It’s not a fair thought to Ilya, for one- she knows her son is in love. And for another, Irina has only ever wanted Ilya to be happy, and Shane makes Ilya very happy.
And ultimately, the same could be said of Shane. Why does Shane not go find a nice man in Montréal, someone easier to love? Someone he could even manage to keep mostly out of the public eye, like that Scott Hunter fellow and his respectable, non-hockey boyfriend.
But that is not a fair thought to either of them, and it is a cruel one too, because surely, these are things that they both know, and they choose each other anyways.
Irina can do nothing but respect that, and be happy for them, because she loves her son more than anything else, and the greatest privilege of her strange afterlife has been getting to watch him grow up.
“I know.” David sits next to his wife, wrapping an arm around her. “But- Shane is an adult, Yuna, and we raised a smart boy. Surely, he knows all this about Ilya. We can’t do anything except support him. Support them.”
Yuna sighs. “I- I know you’re right. I’ve already pushed Shane so hard, he didn’t feel he could come out to us. And we both know, that’s more on me than on you. I won’t- I won’t push him on Ilya. I promise.”
“Good.” David kisses his wife’s cheek. “Just- try to keep an open mind, okay? We did always want more than one kid, after all, and that could be our future son-in-law down there.”
Yuna snorts, and starts to say something in reply, but Irina has seen and heard enough.
She drifts back down the stairs, to where she can hear Shane and Ilya arguing over the soup pot, can hear the sounds of laughter and kissing amidst the chaos.
Irina comes up behind Ilya, and presses her presence against his back as much as she can without passing right through him (a fact that had terrified her, the first time it happened, but seemed to cause no harm to Ilya). At her son’s front, Shane is holding up a spoon for Ilya to taste test, smiling so wide that it hurts.
Irina cannot do anything. She cannot forcibly change Yuna’s mind on Ilya, cannot make sure that Ilya will always be loved for exactly who he is, no matter what.
But she can press up against him, and though he cannot feel her, Ilya smiles and touches her cross back.
______________________________
Shane, after the initial shock, also appears to be aware of how his mother perceives Ilya, and it improves Irina’s estimation of her likely future son-in-law even more.
It’s some weeks later, just before Ilya has to go back to Boston for his last season there- after extending his two weeks at the cottage to almost the whole summer, much to Irina’s delight. Her son hasn’t been this consistently happy in years.
(And she wants him to be happy- hates the days where he has more of her sadness, where she doesn't regret it-)
In the past weeks, Shane and Ilya haven’t just been enjoying the other’s company, learning how to exist in the same space together for longer than a night. They’ve also been working on the development of their new foundation.
Her foundation.
Irina had cried when she’d first heard of it- as much as a ghost can cry, anyways.
(Silently, with no tears- but crying all the same.)
She hadn’t been there when they’d first thought of it- she does not go anywhere near the boys’ bedroom at night, giving them as much privacy as she can. And when it had been alluded to at that first, brief lunch at the Hollanders, her name had not been attached to it- she hadn’t made the connection, and had been too busy keeping an eye on Yuna, anyways.
But when the name had first been said in her presence- floated to a curious Yuna and David- she’d cried, hugged Ilya as best she could.
She is so, so proud of her son, and so sad that this is something he is doing because of her.
She would understand if he hated her, is the thing. And she is sure that there must be some resentment, buried deep down- how could there not be? She had left him behind, in one of the most selfish ways possible, left him all alone in a house where no one else loved him.
But Ilya is so full of love and light and forgiveness, and she knows he wears her cross but the fact that he still loves her enough to name something like this for her, even after what she did to him-
Her choice, her choice, most days she regrets it-
But now, the idea for the foundation is more solid, at least the conceptual plans for it. And it cannot be announced to the public properly until Ilya has moved to Ottawa, next year- but there are still preparations to be made. Sponsors to be found, a location to be settled on, administrative set-up-
It’s not surprising that Shane and Ilya have asked Yuna and David for help- David is a government-employed accountant, after all, and Yuna is her fierce manager self.
But it’s at one of these meetings, where the foundation’s name finally gets discussed, or at least tentatively brought up.
“You’re naming it after your mother, right?” Yuna has addressed the question to Ilya, where they’re all sitting around the Hollander’s living room, planning. “That’s very sweet, I think.”
Ilya manages a tense smile, and Irina wants to smack herself. “Thank you.”
Yuna has been eyeing Ilya this entire conversation, and to some degree, Irina understands why. Shane has been doing most of the talking for two of them, and Ilya is not quite meeting anyone’s eyes- so, it’s not surprising that Yuna is doing this, trying to draw Ilya more into the conversation, trying to understand, but-
Her gaze is still tinged with that edge of distrust, and Irina thinks that this question, while genuine, is probably also a test of some sort.
She’s proven right a few moments later.
“I need to ask, why?” Yuna’s voice isn’t unkind, exactly, but Ilya still flinches a bit, and Shane immediately puts a hand on Ilya’s knee. “I’m sorry if that’s rude, but as we’re thinking about how we’re going to present this to the public, people will want to know. Why not a name for both of you instead?”
Shane’s voice is low. “Mom, that’s- can’t this wait-”
“She... struggled, with her mental health.” Ilya’s voice, while not loud, is steady. His fingers are gripping her cross like a lifeline, and Irina covers his hand with her hers, hating herself. “So, it is… important. For her.”
“Oh.” Yuna at least does not sound accusing. “I see. Is that… is she still…”
“Dead.” Ilya’s voice finally cracks a little.
Irina’s son is brave, so brave- and he shouldn’t have to be, she did this to him, but he’s so brave, and she is both heartbroken and proud beyond belief.
And there is, of course, no way for Yuna Hollander to have known anything about this before now, but still-
But she watches Yuna now, and sees Yuna’s eyes soften at least a little. “I’m sorry, Rozanov. That must have been hard- I can’t imagine.”
David elbows his wife, subtly, but Irina still sees it. “Yuna’s right, Ilya. It’s- very brave of you to do this for her, and I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”
Irina does, more than she can say.
“Doing this for her- this is for both of us, Mom.” Shane cuts in, hand still tight on Ilya’s knee, where Ilya’s own hand has moved to rest on top of it. “Can we move on, now?”
Yuna acquiesces, and they carry on, discussing other plans.
It’s later, when the boys are leaving to go back to the cottage, that it happens. Irina follows after Ilya as he says goodbye to David and Yuna, heads out to Shane’s car. But, she hangs back as she hears Shane speak quietly to Yuna, soft enough that Ilya doesn’t hear.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“What?” Yuna does, to her credit, sound shocked. Again, Irina knows that there’s no way for Yuna to know, but still-
“I need for you to not push him, especially on this.” Shane’s voice is as serious as Irina’s ever heard it. “I know- I know you’re not sure of him yet, okay? I can tell. But I need you to trust me on this, even if you can’t trust him. I can’t- I can’t-”
“Sweetheart, breathe.” Irina drifts back around the corner to see Yuna rubbing Shane’s back, even as he tenses. “I’m sorry. I promise, I am trying, I just-”
“Try harder.” Shane straightens up and looks his mother in the eye, something Irina’s rarely seen him do. “I know there are things you don’t understand about us. But I can’t explain all of them to you, Mom- I won’t. But I love him, and this foundation- we both want it, but it’s still hard for him, alright? Harder for him than it is for me. And I saw you eyeing him earlier while we were talking, and I need you to not push him. I- I won’t let you push him on this, okay?”
Yuna’s eyes are wide, with shock and a little heartbreak, but- Irina thinks she might also see some pride.
“Okay.” Yuna breathes out gently. “I promise. I’ll try harder, and listen more. I promise, Shane-chan.”
Shane snorts softly. “You haven’t called me that in years, Okāsan.”
“You haven’t let me call you that in years.” Yuna huffs right back. “Go on now. He’s… Ilya’s waiting for you.”
Shane exhales. “Yes. He is.”
Irina follows him as he goes, but stops to look back at Yuna one final time.
She thinks there might be tears in the other woman’s eyes, and she’s not completely sure what they’re for.
______________________________
Irina wonders if, in another life, she and Yuna might have been good friends.
They both love their sons, after all. Their perfect, beautiful sons. They both want what is best for their boys, want their sons to have every opportunity in life. To be safe, to be free, and to be loved.
Perhaps they would have bonded over that, over their perfect sons, and how much they love each other.
But there is a key difference, in how they approach their boys.
Yuna pushes Shane, often beyond his preconceived limits. This can be a good thing- Shane is monetarily set for life, after all, and he is one of the greatest hockey legends the world has ever seen. Yuna plans every aspect of Shane’s life that he allows her to down to the microsecond. Her own way of caring for her son and making sure that he gets the best, is seen as the best.
(But it can be, and is, also a bad thing- backing Shane into a corner, a tower built on perfectionism and public image where the line between manager and mother is far too blurred.)
Irina had never done anything like that with Ilya, when she was alive. She had been all positive encouragement, allowing her son to set his own pace as much as they could within Grigori’s walls. She had encouraged Ilya in hockey, but only because he had loved it- if Ilya had told her that he wanted to figure skate or do ballet, she would have done her best to help him.
(Not that Grigori would have allowed either of those, but she would have tried.)
She had never pushed Ilya too much. Grigori did more than enough of that for the both of them, and besides, Irina had been- too tired, and too worn down especially as Ilya got older, to do much more than force a smile and hug her son. Ilya was not like Alexei- where Alexei had been hard, the spitting image of his father, Ilya was like Irina, all soft sweetness and a too-gentle core. She had watched Grigori do his best to smother it, and had done her best to balance in the opposite direction.
So, perhaps they still would have clashed, over their different parenting styles, over wondering if the other’s son was really a good match for their own perfect boy.
But none of that matters, because Irina is dead, and she will never have a proper conversation with Yuna Hollander about their sons.
______________________________
Irina does not end up seeing Yuna Hollander much, over the next year.
It is Ilya’s last year in Boston, which of course does not lend itself to having a lot of spare time for meeting his potential future mother-in-law.
(Irina only thinks of it as potential because neither of the boys have proposed yet. But she knows her son, and she knows that Ilya sees Shane as forever.)
There are a few days scattered throughout, brief dinners with Yuna and David, but the biggest are the two days during Western Christmas that Ilya and Shane spend with Yuna and David.
Those days are… interesting.
On the one hand, Irina can tell, Yuna is still watching Ilya very closely. Still sizing up Irina’s son, still taking his measure. But there is far less of the initial distrust and suspicion, even if Yuna is not warm, exactly.
On the other hand, it is so… lovely, to see Ilya in a family structure again.
Christmas was never a huge holiday for them, not like New Year’s. For one, the dates are different- and even when Christmas did come, the most Irina had done was cook some special foods, and the four of them would go to church.
But traditions aside- the family aspect here, is enough to make Irina want to cry.
She watches her son cuddling with Shane on the couch to watch movies. She watches him help David in the kitchen to bake cookies, sees him participate in putting up the Hollander family Christmas tree and excitedly bring presents for all the Hollanders.
She watches the look of surprise on his face when not only Shane, but David and Yuna also give him gifts back, and her heart breaks.
She had chosen to leave him during the lowest moments of her own life- but since then, in her afterlife, all she has wanted for him is to have this type of love find him some day. So, even though it is not perfect, even though the four of them are all still learning how to be around each other, Irina watches this, and she smiles.
It’s as they’re sitting down for the family’s Christmas dinner that it happens.
David brings it out to the table, sets it right in front of Ilya among the dishes of roast turkey, mashed potato, fried chicken, baked salmon, garden salad, rice with red beans, and more. Irina sees it, and-
“Is that what I think it is?” Ilya’s voice is low, shocked, eyes as wide as Irina knows her own (metaphorically) are.
“Yup.” David sounds proud. “My first time making it, so you’ll have to tell me if it’s any good, of course. But Shane told me you don’t celebrate Christmas in the same way we do, that it’s more about New Year’s- but I still wanted you to have something from home. I hope that’s alright?”
The салат Оливье sits proudly on the table, little sprigs of dill decorating its top.
“Thank you.” Ilya sounds the tiniest bit choked, and Irina presses closer to him, even as Shane reaches out to take his boyfriend’s hand. “This is- you did not have to.”
“I wanted to.” David says simply. “Let’s enjoy, alright?”
Everyone is busy for the next few minutes, loading their plates, idly chattering as they do. Irina watches closely as Ilya takes a huge helping of the Оливье, digging in immediately, and she smiles as she watches his eyes light up with a familiar joy, one she saw whenever she would cook him his favourites, пельмени or сырники or медови́к-
“This is delicious, Mr. Hollander!” Ilya’s voice is as close to childish delight as it’s been in years. “It is very close to how my mother would make it.”
Her son, always so sweet-
“I’m glad to hear that, Ilya.” David’s voice is warm. “And please, I’ve said you can call me David.”
Irina sends up a silent prayer of thanks for David Hollander- despite her initial misgivings, she thinks that this man can end up being very good for her son.
“You must try this, любимый.” Ilya holds out a spoonful to Shane, who eyes it with some obvious misgiving.
“It looks good, but my meal plan, Ilya, I don’t know if-”
Ilya makes a scoffing sound. “Is Christmas, Hollander! Do not be so boring, come-”
Out of the corner of her eye, Irina sees Yuna’s mouth pinch a bit at the word boring, but she pays it little mind, laughing to herself as Ilya shoves the spoonful into Shane’s open mouth mid-word.
Shane’s eyes go wide, but he smiles anyways, looking at her son with such naked adoration that it makes Irina ache. “Asshole. But okay, yeah, that’s really good Dad.”
Ilya looks delighted to be called an asshole, and Irina wonders if Yuna will realize it- that asshole and boring are just ways that these two say I love you.
“It is so hard to find good Russian food here, unless I cook it myself, but I am often too lazy.” Ilya laments, and Irina wants to hug him and also cry at the word lazy- Shane clearly doesn’t seem to approve of it either, eyes creasing, but Ilya continues. “Have you considered opening a restaurant, David?”
“Ah, I’m too busy for that.” David laughs, looking pleased. “But I like cooking, and I like to try cooking new things. When I was courting Yuna, I spent so much time learning how to cook miso and roll sushi, only to learn that my lovely wife doesn’t even like most sushi here-”
“It’s not the same, David!” Yuna interjects, smiling at her husband. “Avocado on sushi? It’s not a thing in Japan, but here, you people put it on every single roll!”
“Well, I learned, didn’t I? I’ve never made you sushi with avocados again after that first try.”
“Hmmph.” Yuna looks miffed, but she’s still smiling. “I might be Canadian now, but I don’t get you Westerners and your need to change every single good food you get your hands on-”
“Oh, yes!” Ilya grins wide, smiling at Yuna. “I agree, Mrs. Hollander. There was one time I found this deli in Boston and went to try their котлета киевский стиль – you know this food? I think here they say Chicken Kiev- only to find they had filled it with bacon. Why?”
“God, the bacon!” Yuna is actually smiling back at Ilya now, and it makes Irina’s no-longer beating heart skip a little. “David once took us to this sushi place-”
“I said I was sorry-”
“-that had something they called a BLT sushi, where they put bacon and lettuce and tomato in the sushi roll. I almost threw up when I saw it.”
Ilya is laughing fully now. “I will never understand these Western countries and their obsession with bacon. Сало is much better, anyways.”
“Oh, what is that?” Yuna cocks her head. “Is that also a traditional Russian dish?”
They continue on, Ilya and Yuna discussing the intricacies of pork dishes, commiserating over the way that Western countries always seem to pervert perfectly good foods, while David and Shane watch on. Irina watches too, sees the way Yuna is actually engaging with Ilya properly, no side-eyeing or suspicious glares-
“Well, I’m glad you two can bond over your shared immigrant misery when it comes to food.” Shane finally interjects, but he’s smiling.
Ilya shakes his head in mock sorrow. “Your mother understands me, любимый. Remember when you asked me if Бефстро́ганов was the one with the beets-”
“Oh my god, let it go you ass, I said I was sorry-”
David starts laughing, a full-belly chuckle, and Yuna is still smiling, laughing too, and-
Irina feels something inside of her settle into place.
______________________________
After months of planning, it is finally here.
The opening of the Irina Foundation.
Ilya has moved to Ottawa; he is on a new team. Irina has watched over him as he uprooted his entire life for the second time in a decade, and she has watched him settle into the rhythm of learning to be loved again. And she has watched, as her son builds something to help others in her name, and she is so, so proud of the man he has become.
(She wishes, that he had never had to build this in her name at all, she regrets, she regrets-)
Shane and Ilya are backstage at the gala for their foundation opening. Yuna and David are here too of course, as well as some of the other people they’ve brought on to help them run this camp. But Irina only has eyes for her son, who is being hugged tightly by Shane.
Both boys look tense, but Ilya is the one who’s nearly white with nerves, head buried in Shane’s shoulder while the other man murmurs endearments and reassurances. She can hear Shane softly calling Ilya baby, can hear Ilya whispering любимый back.
Soon, though, the gala starts, Shane and Ilya taking to the stage alone amidst bright camera flashes and yelling reporters, with all the invited hockey players and other guests in the background. Shane starts them off, with the announcements, the outline, confirming that yes, they are friends-
But eventually, it is Ilya’s turn, to share more about the why.
Irina’s son is gripping her cross tightly, and she hovers at his side, hand on his shoulder, as he speaks.
“My Мама was a wonderful person.” Ilya’s voice is rough, but steady. “Most of you do not know anything about her. But she was very beautiful, and when she smiled the sun would shine, and she taught me how to skate, and that it was very important to not try to lick the ice of the hockey rink when I was a child.”
There’s a smattering of laughter, and Irina tries to squeeze Ilya tighter- god, she remembers when he was four, and convinced that because rink ice was water he should be allowed to eat it-
“But she was also very sad.” Ilya continues. “And it is important to say that this was not her fault. She had a hard life, and her brain made her very sad. And she fought that sadness for as long and as hard as she could, but- it was not enough. And when I was- twelve, she lost her battle.”
The room is quiet.
“I will never forget what it was like, when I saw her after, and I thought, this is not my mother. Where is she? Where is my Мама?”
Irina remembers. She remembers the crying, the screaming, then the terrible way Ilya had gone silent, and reached out to gently remove her cross from her body, putting it around his own neck and over his heart where it has been ever since.
Where Irina has been ever since.
“But one thing I knew even then, was that my Мама did not die because she was sad, or weak. She was so strong, but she died because even though she fought so hard, there was no one to help her.”
And god, but Irina knows Ilya has always thought of himself as one of those people who failed her, and she hates it, hates herself for it, because her baby was only twelve and it wasn’t his fault-
Shane’s hand is tight around Ilya’s other hand, behind their backs where no one else can see.
“And that is why we are doing this.” Ilya takes a deep breath, hand tightening further over the golden edges of her cross. “Because my mother should have had help. And there are many other people, like my Мама, who also should have that help.”
There’s the beginning of applause, before Shane takes over the conversation again, adding on about how the Foundation will also help kids with less opportunities learn to play hockey-
But Irina hugs her son as best she can, she loves him, she loves him-
It’s as she’s hugging him though, that she looks up and sees Yuna in the wings of the stage. Yuna’s eyes are fixed on Ilya, hand over her mouth, and Irina thinks- she thinks there might be tears, in the corner of the other woman’s eyes.
And, well-
She doesn’t know what Yuna’s thinking, and can’t do anything about it anyways. So, Irina hugs her son tighter, and tries to speak without a voice.
I love you, and I am so proud of you, and I am so sorry.
______________________________
It’s about a week after the foundation’s opening that it happens.
Shane is going back to Montréal the next day for the start of the season, and they’re all sitting down to have one last dinner at the Hollanders’, when Yuna turns to Ilya and says, “You should come over for dinner next week.”
Ilya blinks.
At his side, Shane freezes.
Irina, where she’s floating on Ilya’s other side, also freezes.
David is the only one of them who doesn’t look at all concerned, calmly continuing to munch on his bowl of nikujaga. (It’s times like these that Irina wishes she still had working tastebuds, for all these tasty-looking foods that she never got to try in life.)
Ilya recovers first, nodding politely. “I would like this very much, Mrs. Hollander.”
“Yuna, please.” She continues as though they aren’t all (minus David) still staring at her. “I’d like to hear what you think about that new left-wing Philadelphia’s acquired when the game is on next week.”
Ilya looks both shocked and pleased, and Shane is carefully watching his mother and his boyfriend, and Irina keeps her eyes on Yuna, trying to find any hint of deception or mistrust in the other woman’s bearing.
She doesn’t see any.
So, next weekend, after Shane is gone, Ilya (and Irina) are back at the Hollanders for dinner, and Irina watches her son and Yuna loudly discuss the failures of Philadelphia’s offensive tactics. It’s just the two (three) of them, David staying back in the kitchen to work on dinner.
It’s- going well. Ilya is smiling, and Yuna also is smiling, and both of them are laughing as they boo the Philadelphia mascot.
It’s during one of the commercial breaks in the game that Yuna lowers the volume on the TV, turns to Ilya, and says, “I owe you an apology.”
Ilya’s mouth opens, and Irina floats over closer from where she has been inspecting Shane’s baby pictures along the wall.
“I haven’t been fair to you.” Yuna’s voice is firm, continuing before Ilya can speak. “When Shane first brought you home, I should have trusted my son more. I should have treated you with more kindness and openness, and- I let my biases cloud my judgement.”
“You were very polite, Yuna.” Ilya sounds like he used to when Grigori was sick- never sure if he was talking to a disapproving father or the shell of a confused old man, and acting with the requisite hesitation. “I know my reputation- I do not blame you for having been cautious.”
It’s not that easy, though. Ilya’s right, in that Yuna’s been polite- but someone can be polite to your face and still stab you in the back. Yuna has been polite, but she has not, exactly, been kind, or welcoming.
“But you’re not your reputation, Ilya.” Yuna sighs, looking at the ceiling. “And I took too long to accept it. Shane told me, and David told me, and I should have listened to them sooner. Especially Shane- he has always committed fully when he puts his mind to something, and I had never seen him commit to anyone like he did you.”
“Is really okay- you do not need to-”
“Yes, I do.” Yuna hesitantly reaches out a hand, places it gently on top of one of Ilya’s. “I’m sorry, for how I’ve behaved towards you. You make my son happy, and I know my husband likes you, and will you please give me the chance to make it right? To start over, perhaps?”
Ilya is blinking wide, eyes shocked and a little watery, and Irina’s heart aches.
She drifts closer to her son, wraps her arms around him, and peers at Yuna from the other side. Yuna is earnest, this much she can tell, and though this has come out of left field-
This can be a good thing for Ilya. Certainly, better than living with Yuna’s dislike. Irina is not sure if she fully trusts Yuna Hollander yet, and she certainly hasn’t forgiven anything, but then- Irina is dead, and has no obligation to, now does she?
But maybe- if Yuna is sincere, Ilya can finally have-
“Of course, Yuna.” Ilya eventually replies, and Irina passes her incorporeal thumbs over his cheek, unable to wipe away the traces of wetness but doing her best anyways. Fortunately, she feels Ilya start to smirk a little. “Nobody else in this country understands the beauty of horseradish and mustard.”
Her son has such a big heart- even if Irina thinks he may be covering his feelings with some humor right now, she can forgive it, because she has such a kind boy.
“These Westerners.” Yuna agrees, smiling back. “This one time, David asked me if-”
“You called for me?” David appears from the kitchen, and-
For some inexplicable reason the man is holding a bottle of that weak yellow mustard they favor so much in these Western countries, and both Yuna and Ilya burst out laughing.
Against the odds, Irina finds herself letting out silent chuckles too.
______________________________
Later in the same day, Ilya is getting ready to go back to his new house, packing up leftovers in the kitchen with David, and Irina finds herself floating on the back patio, watching Yuna Hollander stare up at the darkening sky.
She has been watching Yuna all afternoon, and what she finds has been- better. Reassuring, even.
It’s a shock, though, when she hears her own name come out of Yuna’s mouth.
“Irina Rozanova.” Yuna is not looking at her, so Irina knows that Yuna has not suddenly developed the power of necromancy, but she cannot help but drift closer still. “I wonder what you would say, if you could see your son now.”
There are so many things she wishes she could say, starting with I’m sorry and I love you-
“You raised a good boy.” Yuna continues, softly looking at the sky. “God, I don’t know why I’m saying this- it’s not like you can hear me, but you did. I’ve never met you, but I feel certain it was you, and not his father, just from the things he’s said.”
Irina- wonders, how much credit she can really be given for raising Ilya, because she left him so soon, but Yuna isn’t done.
“He loves my son very much. And my son loves him back. It took me a while to see it, but they do. And I guess I just want you to know, in some way- from now on, I’ll take care of him as best I can. From one imperfect mother to another.”
Oh.
That’s-
Irina sees the sincerity in Yuna’s eyes, hears the conviction in the other’s voice.
Maybe- maybe she can start to forgive a bit, after all.
Irina lingers there silently with Yuna, as the other woman stares up at the sky for a few more moments, two imperfect mothers doing the best that they know how.
When Ilya leaves later that night, and Irina goes with him, Yuna draws Ilya into a careful, but firm hug. And Ilya sinks into it, surprised but accepting, and Irina hugs her son too, sandwiching him between herself and Yuna. Yuna stretches up on her tiptoes, and gives a gentle kiss to Ilya’s forehead.
For a moment they stand there, two mothers and the son they had, will have.
Eventually it ends, and Ilya heads out to his car, but Irina stays for a moment, watching Yuna.
Most days, Irina Rozanova regrets her choice, and this is one of those days. But-
Irina will not leave her son again, even if there is nothing that she can do for him anymore. One day, Ilya’s time will come- and then, Irina thinks, she will give into that ever-present tug and let go, and see what happens when she does. Maybe, if she is lucky, there will be another side, where she can see her son again properly, and tell him all the things she should have told him. But until then, she stays.
But maybe, there can be someone now who can do the things for Ilya that Irina should be here to do herself. Maybe, Irina can figuratively breathe a little easier, knowing that there is someone else willing to love her son the way that Ilya deserves, the way that she should have.
Ilya gets in his car, and his fingers rise to rub over her cross- Irina follows the movement, heart aching but oh-so-full.
She leans over, and kisses the same spot on his head that Yuna just did.
Ilya sighs, hand coming up to touch his forehead as though he can feel it, and starts the car.
Irina leaves with her son, and she smiles.