Chapter Text
Ilya Rozanov stepped off the plane at Logan International- like he had hundreds of times before. He’d missed one game in their roadie- they’d lost. His teammates understood, but it ate at him. The real reason. The person that the team joked he must have been happy to see a rumor about and then pissed to see that Shane Hollander was still alive. He’d cut that shit off right there- reminded them that lives were precious and even though Shane Hollander was his rival- there were people that cared about him. There were people in that locker room that had played with him and knew him and respected him. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the words out without telling the whole team that he was one of the people that cared about Shane. That he was one of the people that would have been ripped apart if the article was true. He didn’t tell them that he didn’t have the flu- he had needed to get to Montreal to know Shane Hollander was fine.
But Marly- Marly had looked at him differently. He didn’t confront him- didn’t push him. He had just settled next to him on the plane like normal- except for the note. ‘What really happened’. The team always joked about how Marly didn’t notice things. And that was wrong. He noticed everything- he just didn't talk to most of them about it. Except him. It was only natural that he’d give him time to prepare- before Marly showed up with a six pack and that stubbornness that he needed from time to time. Fuck. Marly and Shane would probably become fast friends if ever given the chance. Two of a very small number of people that called him on his shit.
As his line mate fell into step with him, he nodded. Cliff could ride back with him. Apparently- the note had bought him four hours- not the normal couple of days. They tossed their bags into the trunk- Cliff letting himself into the passenger seat. He stared at the roof of the parking garage before getting into the driver’s seat and starting the car. Not the one he’d taken to Shane’s. He could bear to be in that car at the moment.
“Jane called more than normal.”
“Da.”
“Hell of a speech about the value of life, Roz.”
“Fucking say it, Marly.”
A challenge. A plea. He knew Marly wasn’t likely to truly confront him- that he was tiptoeing around it. Tiptoeing was what had him sprinting to Shane when no one else in the world knew to call him- tell him- reassure him. His agreement with Shane was to prevent the same thing happening to him. And he knew that this conversation had to happen with Marly before he could give him Shane’s number.
“Did something happen to Jane? That the real reason you missed the first game? I don’t give a fuck about coach or staff- you just were on edge…and her calling when we aren’t in Montreal. Am I in the right ball park?”
“Da. You are great ball park detective. Very best.”
“She okay now?”
A glance over at Marly- concern. Real concern flashed across his friend’s face. A person he’d never met, but because Jane was important to him Marly cared. He hoped one day he’d be as good of a friend in return- if ever given the chance.
“Mostly. Freak medical thing. I needed to see was fine with my eyes. Ego- cell died. We made deal- two friends get numbers- this never happen again.”
“Yeah, man. Fuck- it’ll be nice to see what you see in her a bit.”
“Marly…”
“I’ll be respectful. She’s your girl and I hate that you- that this happened. That why you’ve been so fucking pissed too?”
“No. No, Russians do not do this. Was pissed because shitty hockey.”
An eyebrow raised, but Marly kept quiet. He knew their stats as well as anyone and being on a ten game win streak post Tuna Meltdown was not shitty hockey- it was incredible hockey. Marly let it slide. He’d never been so grateful that Marly let it slide.
Cliff stared at his phone- he’d kept his face neutral as he entered the number and realized it was already in his phone. Shane Hollander. He'd gotten his number a few years back when there was a rumor he might be going to Montreal- he'd never needed to use it, but had kept it nonetheless. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT. He changed the name in his phone and texted a quick hello to Jane. This wasn’t something you confronted a friend about. Roz had given him this information under the guise of making sure Jane knew if something happened to him from a reliable source. So Shane was Jane and that was that.
He sat in his home- piecing together everything he knew. Jane had appeared years ago- every time they were in Montreal and with startling clarity- when Montreal was in Boston too. It had been off and on for years- then this year something happened. Something fractured them apart. Everyone knew something was up with Jane when Rozanov insisted on going on in Montreal- something he never did. So they’d not been talking before Hollander’s incident. Shit. SHIT.
Roz must have seen the news and gone to him. Not satisfied with any other proof except eyes on Shane Hollander. He knew his friend- knew that sometimes Roz’s mind played tricks on him. He understood why a call would not be enough. A call that never came- because the world didn’t know. And now, now, they were making sure this could never happen again. Someone would get to them- even if the other couldn’t.
A ping and he looked at his phone. Jane. A perfectly polite ‘thanks for reaching out- I’ve heard a lot about you’ in response. Of course he’d be fucking polite while Cliff was losing his mind at what he’d missed. Losing his mind at the risk they were taking to save each other from this pain again.
Something settled in his chest then- a promise he’d never speak to either of them. To guard this secret and their love against a world that would tear them apart. Against Russia. Against the MLH and Crowell. Against whoever might hurt them. He’d seen what Shane did to Roz and you couldn’t convince him that that kind of love was bad for the world.