Chapter Text
Ilya can pinpoint the exact moment his life went to shit. It was the moment when Shane risked everything to make sure that Ilya was okay, and in return Ilya told him that they were “nothing”.
He had meant to apologise once they weren't in Russia anymore. He planned to give Hollander space and then make it up to him when the time was right. But then Shane was in a car accident. And the injuries were so bad that he had to give up hockey forever.
And Ilya… he didn't have the words to apologise to Shane. Not in the way he deserved. And Shane was hurt. He needed to focus on healing. It wasn't the time for Ilya to distract him. But then it was never the right time and he didn't hear from the man again.
Without Shane to challenge him on the ice, things become dull. Lifeless.
For a while, he thinks maybe his brother has a point. He loses himself in drink and drugs. He parties too hard and has meaningless sex with anyone who offers. It doesn't fill the void. Nothing could compare to Shane.
Years pass and eventually he hits his rock bottom. Ilya runs his car into a metal fence. The car is totalled but noone is hurt. Just his pride and a bruise on his chest where the seatbelt cut into him.
Svetlana loses her patience with him and stages an intervention. She moves in and pours his alcohol down the sink. Every drug left in the house is flushed down the drain and she helps him through his withdrawal. It's the hardest thing that Ilya had ever done but Svetlana was right. He had gone too far and couldn't be trusted with himself anymore.
When his contract is up, Boston trades him and he doesn't blame them. He hasn't been a good player. And he's been an even worse captain. It hurts but he understands. The team deserves better.
Svetlana and Cliff help him to pack his belongings up as he prepares for his move to Ottawa.
‘I made a list of tattoo artists for you.’ Svetlana tells him over the phone on his first day in Canada.
‘What? Why?’
‘Well, if you want a blank slate, maybe you start by covering up your god awful bear tattoo.’
Sveta is teasing him. But it isn't a bad idea. If he's starting his life over, getting rid of his shitty tattoo is probably a good place to start.
He looks at the list, most of them are named generic goth/edgy sounding cliches. But one catches his eye: Tabula Rasa.
Not recognising the words, he googles it to find out that he doesn't recognise it because it's not English, it's Latin for the phrase “blank slate”.
He ends up following a rabbit hole of philosophical articles about the idea of humans being born as an empty vessel, shaped by their experiences. He ends up booking an appointment without even looking at their work.
He sends a screenshot of the confirmation email to Sveta who sends him a simple message back.
Sveta: Interesting choice
He rolls his eyes and puts his phone away as he finishes unpacking his cases, hoping that Ottawa will feel like a blank slate.
***
As he's reaching for his coffee, Ilya pauses as he sees that a notification has come through during the night from a contact he hasn't heard from for a very long time.
Jane: Hey, I just wanted to give you a heads up that you’ve been booked in with me tomorrow. If that's an issue just let me know and I can switch with another artist. If not, see you soon I guess.
Ilya stares at the message. Reading it over and over as he tries to work out the meaning.
Shane Hollander is messaging him. After almost four years of no contact. Because Ilya has been “booked in” with him. The only plans Ilya has that day are for the tattoo consultation. He freezes as he re-reads the phrase “another artist”. When he shakes himself out of his stupor, he swipes away from the message and looks up the tattoo studio on Instagram.
It's mostly close ups of their work, but when he looks further into the posts, a private account called S.Hollander is credited as the artist for about half of the designs.
‘Fuck…’
He should reply. Should say something. But before he can begin to type, his eyes catch on the rest on the chat history. Messages from Shane, from 2014.
Jane: Sorry about that. Just wanted to check in. See you back home?
Jane: Hey, back in Montreal. Let me know when you're back in Boston :)
Jane: Everything okay? Haven't heard from you in a while
Jane: Rozanov, come on
Jane: I hope you're okay
And then one missed call. Days after Shane's accident. He would have been in the hospital, reaching out for comfort. But Ilya was too drunk to take the call. And too ashamed after to return it.
Realising that he's going to be late for his appointment, Ilya decides against wrestling with how to reply and rushes off to make sure that he won't be late.
He does take a moment to check his reflection and fix his hair before leaving the apartment. If he’s going to be seeing Shane again, he might as well make sure he looks good.