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Shane sat down on a bench at the edge of the park and watched his daughter and Ilya swing. Alina pumped her legs to swing higher and higher while Ilya sat in the swing next to her, letting the swing sway pensively. Shane smiled to himself as a woman sat down next to him.
"Who are you watching?" Shane was surprised when the woman spoke to him in Russian. Maybe he shouldn't have been, they came to this neighborhood for it's Russian bakery, but maybe his surprise came from the woman assuming he would understand.
"My husband and my daughter." Shane nodded in their direction. He glanced over to see a woman around his age, maybe slightly younger. She had soft blonde curls and piercing eyes. She was holding a sleeping baby swaddled up so Shane could barely see their face.
"You speak Russian." She said approvingly, meeting his gaze.
"Yes, for my husband."
"He is what brought you here." It wasn't a question. Shane nodded.
"We come get Russian pastries. He likes talking to the old women who run the bakery. It reminds him of the good parts of home. He shares stories with Alina."
"What a lovely name."
----[Approximately 12 years before]----
"What are we going to call her?" Shane had never heard Ilya speak so softly. He held the baby girl in his arms carefully and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb. Shane thought his insides were going to melt.
The call had come out of nowhere. They had gone from sure they were never going to get a baby to sitting in the hospital room holding their little girl in less than 24 hours. Shane hated to not be prepared, but...
"Do you want to name her after your mother?" Shane ran a hand through Ilya's curls and reached down with the other to gently hold his baby girl's hand between two fingers.
"She is not just mine to name."
"But I like the name Irina," Shane replied, "and I'm hoping she takes after you. Caring, confident, funny..."
"She is going to take after both of us, Solnyshko. Reflect the best parts of each of us, I hope." Ilya paused and Shane knew...
"What are you thinking?"
"Alina." Ilya ran his thumb across the baby's brow. "Means bright... shining... Like you, my sunshine." Ilya looked up and handed their baby girl to Shane, who took her carefully and immediately began swaying with her in his arms. Ilya would joke months later that Alina didn't know what it was like to be still when in Shane's arms. He always moved with her. But she always slept for him.
"Alina Hollander-Rozanov." Shane said softly to her. "It's nice to meet you."
----[back at the park]----
"Your family is beautiful."
"Yours too." Shane nodded at the bundle in the woman's arms. She smiled sadly.
"I ran away from my family. I thought it was for the best. Her father was a terrifying man. I never wanted to see him again. I never wanted him to meet her." A tear ran down the woman's cheek.
"Hey," Shane said soothingly, "I'm sure did what you thought was right."
"No, I..." The woman looked out across the park. "I left my son behind. I should have made a different choice. I should have stayed. For him." Shane followed her gaze and his eyes landed on Ilya. He had stopped his swing and was still, facing the bench. Ilya's gaze found Shane's and his eyes widened. Shane looked between Ilya and the woman staring sadly at him from the bench.
"Irina."
"Shane Hollander." Despite the woman's somber tone, Shane's face broke into a smile and tears formed in his eyes. Ilya's mother. He didn't know how this strange apparition was appearing to him, but right now he didn't care. Ilya had always mourned the fact that Shane hadn't met his mother. Shane looked back out to Ilya and motioned him over. Ilya shook his head sadly and touched his heart. He returned to swinging gently next to Alina.
"I'm not even sure he sees me, Shane."
"He saw me." Shane frowned.
"He did. He will, from time to time. If you stay. Maybe even if you don't." Irina had fixed her gaze on Shane, now, and there was pity there, but also kindness and understanding. Shane closed his eyes as the realization hit him.
"How long have I been gone?"
"A few weeks. Alina's birthday is tomorrow."
"Oh." Shane felt tears falling down his own face. "I promised..."
"You didn't."
---[four months ago]---
"You have to play in the in the playoffs. The team needs you." Shane gripped Ilya's hand tighter, because Ilya wasn't making eye contact with him and he needed him to.
"The team needs us." Ilya said, staring at the hospital wall. "I don't want to play without you any more."
"Ilya," Shane tried to sit up, which did turn his husband's gaze towards him.
"Rest, Solnyshko." Ilya brought Shane's hand up to his mouth to kiss it.
"This was probably going to be our last season anyway."
"Yes. We are far too old, but we were going to finish together." Ilya said bitterly. Shane shook his head. The cancer diagnosis had been a surprise and it was aggressive. There was no controlling this scenario. He had accepted it. Ilya had not.
"I can't finish the season, Ilya." Shane exhaled slowly. "I'll never play hockey again."
"Then neither will I."
"Damnit, Ilya, you'd want me to finish my last season."
"Well since when are either of us getting what we want?" Ilya didn't raise his voice, which Shane almost hated as much as yelling. His voice was dripping with bitterness. Ilya had been able to hide a lot of his struggling from Alina, but she was with Yuna and David right now.
"I'd love to watch you finish your last season Ilya, if I can." Shane said softly. "If you can."
"I will try."
Ilya did play. The Centaurs made it to the second round of the playoffs but lost 4-2. Game 6 was in Ottawa, though, so Shane was able to sit in a box with his family and watch his husband's last NHL game. He was pale and exhausted, but there was a standing ovation at the end of the game both for Ilya and for Shane, and the winning team applauded for them as well. Tears were shed around the arena -fans of both teams- recognizing the end of a hockey legacy.
"That applause was for you, too, you know," Ilya told Shane later while they were lying in bed.
"I know. Our numbers are going to hang next to each other in the rafters. They'll probably do a ceremony in the fall." An immediate silence fell between them as they both considered the likelihood that Shane would not see that ceremony. "You're going to be okay, Ilya."
"Shane..."
"No. You will be. I'll be with you. Keep doing the things we do. The camp. The Russian bakery for your birthday. Have the team out to the cottage. Go camping with my parents."
"We will do these things together."
"But after I'm gone, Ilya. For you. For Alina." Shane took Ilya's face in his hands, wiping his tears away and pressing their foreheads together. "Keep living our life, please. Stay. For me." Ilya didn't answer, but leaned forward to kiss Shane tenderly. When he pulled back, he sniffed.
"Stay for me, Shane Hollander." Shane smiled sadly.
"For as long as I can."
----[back at the park]----
"How long have you been here?" Ilya and Alina were walking back to their car. Ilya glanced back at the bench where Shane was sitting with Irina, but if he could see them, his face didn't give it away.
"I couldn't leave him alone. Not again." Irina said, solemnly watching Ilya walk away. "And then he wasn't alone, and I wanted to wait. To thank you."
"Thank me?" Shane watched as Irina gathered her thoughts.
"The world will not soon forget you, Shane Hollander, but it had almost forgotten me. It makes it hard to stay, when no one remembers."
"Ilya never forgot you." Shane found himself defensive of his husband. Irina smiled and nodded.
"Ilya had memories of me, but they faded, and he focused of his last memory of me and then buried me deep. He thought of me often, but I hurt him I thought I should move on. My name wasn't said for nearly a decade." Irina looked at Shane, eyes shining. "And then..."
Shane heard his own voice echo, a memory.
"What was your mother's name?"
"Irina." Ilya's voice echoed. Shane closed his eyes and could feel the sunshine and the warmth of that summer, that moment. "She would have loved you," Ilya continued, "like I love you."
"Then you built a legacy around my name." Irina said, "One that will last far beyond your hockey legacies." Shane heard a car door slam, and watched his family drive away.
"What now?" Shane asked Irina. The baby in her arms was starting to fuss.
"I'm going to move on." Irina told him. "Thank you for taking care of my Ilya when I could not. Thank you for helping him say my name again." Shane looked back down the road where the car had disappeared. "You can stay if you want.". Irina said, seeming to read his expression. "You won't always be here, and they won't always feel you, but sometimes..." Irina smiled.
"What happens if I move on?"
"I don't know, Shane Hollander, but I hope to see you again."
---[Fall of that year]---
Ilya had never felt more unsteady on the ice. He stood surrounded by Centaurs, current and retired players, and his number and Shane's were raised into the rafters. He squeezed Alina's hand as tears fell freely down his face. He felt hands on either sides of his shoulders. Shane.
He glanced back to see Yuna and David flanking him, each with a hand on a shoulder. He nodded appreciatively. He knew this was painful for them as well. They both looked an odd combination of heartbroken and fiercely proud.
---
Ilya continued the Game Changers Camp and the Irina Foundation. He expanded it after retirement. Opened a full-time hockey school with plenty of scholarships for kids that couldn't afford to play. Alina grew up surrounded by hockey players, so it didn't surprise Ilya when she told him she wanted to get a degree in sport physiotherapy. She went to the University of Ottawa even though Ilya insisted she could travel wherever she wanted.
Ilya swore he saw Shane sometimes. Or felt him. In important moments. In hard times. When he had to make a decision he would talk to him in their room. Friends visited often. Svetlana, the Pike family, Marleau, Hunter, and of course the Centaurs. Ilya employed half of them after retirement, so he kept his family close. Even though he felt like he was living his life with half a heart, he lived it the best he could. For Shane. When Alina started at the University, however, the house was too quiet. Ilya spent most of his time at the hockey school he had built. There was almost always someone else around there.
"Coach?" Ilya had been sitting at his desk mindlessly moving papers around. He didn't really have any work to do. He looked up to see Adrian, a 13 year old on scholarship with the camp, standing in the doorway. He was dragging his equipment bag behind him. "I need to return this." Adrian was staring at the floor.
"Why would you return your equipment, Adrian?" Ilya stood and moved to lean against the front of his desk. Adrian glared at the floor now.
"I'm moving homes again. I broke a TV." Ilya frowned as he remembered that Adrian was a ward. It was part of the reason he was on scholarship.
"They are moving you because you broke a TV?" Ilya didn't like this. Could you just return a kid? Like a dog to a shelter? Ilya shook his head. You shouldn't do either.
"The house I'm in isn't equipped to handle my anger issues." Adrian recited the words like he had them memorized.
"I thought we were working on that." Ilya said gently. Adrian met his gaze guiltily.
"We were. I messed up. Hockey helped a lot, it did. Thank you, Mr. Rozanov." Adrian dragged the bag fully into the office and dropped it.
"You can keep the equipment, Adrian. Maybe you can play the next place you go." Ilya meant for it to be a kindness, but Adrian grimaced.
"Probably not. Give the equipment to someone who can use it." Adrian walked out of the office and Ilya sighed. Ilya sighed, returning to his desk. He put his head in his hands. They really did try and help the kids as much as possible, but there is only so much hockey can do. Ilya breathed deeply. The office was much too quiet.
Ilya.
Ilya's eyes flew open. He quickly found Adrian's file on his computer and found the contact number for his guardian.
[Two days later]
"You will finish out the school year living with me. This way you do not have to leave in the middle of the year and you can keep playing hockey."
"Yes, Mr. Rozanov." Adrian was staring at his hands. Ilya frowned.
"Ilya, please. Maybe coach during hockey. Are you not happy about staying with me?"
"It's temporary, right?" Adrian looked out the window. Ilya bit his lip. He still needed to get approved as a foster parent. This was technically a temporary arrangement at the moment. He had just known that it was what he was supposed to be doing.
"I don't want it to be temporary." Ilya said firmly. Adrian looked at him in awe. "But..." Ilya said, "we will both have to work hard. I am told living with me is not easy. And you have to promise not to break TVs."
"I promise!" Adrian said excitedly.
Adrian did break a TV within a month of living with Ilya. Ilya wasn't, in fact, ready for a 13 year old boy with lots of anger issues. But Ilya was familiar with being a young man who felt abandoned. They went to therapy, separately and together. Ilya surrounded Adrian with strong role models and sought advice constantly from parents he knew (yes, even Pike). Even when it got hard, Ilya could feel that he was doing the right thing. He thought of how much care Shane had shown him when he was a raw, angry individual. He tried to emulate Shane's caring nature while raising Adrian, and the kids who came after.
---[Years... Years... Years... later]---
Ilya rolled a cigar between his palms, watching the nurses place babies into cribs in front of him.
"You know smoking is bad for you." Ilya chuckled at the voice coming from behind him.
"My husband used to say things like that to me."
"Used to?"
"Yes. Smoking didn't take me first after all." Ilya shrugged. "I don't smoke anymore, but this is a special occasion."
"Oh?"
"My first great-grandchild."
"You don't look old enough to have a great-grandchild." Ilya snorted.
"Well I will show her to you in a moment." Ilya glanced around the babies. "When they bring her out." The person behind him stepped closer.
"Isn't that her there? Third from the left?" Ilya looked and yes, in fact, that was her. She was perfect.
"How did you...?"
"I think I know my own great-granddaughter." The voice laughed. Ilya spun around.
"Shane." He hadn't changed. He hadn't aged. Shane was standing on front of him looking as beautiful as the day he had left Ilya. Even more beautiful, as there were no signs of the sickness that had plagued Shane in his final days. Ilya pulled Shane into him and sobbed into his shoulder.
"Lyubov' vsey moyey zhizni, I can't believe you're here." Ilya laughed. "I am so old, now."
"Are you?" Shane laughed and pushed Ilya back to arm's legnth. Ilya looked at his hands on Shane's arm and they held no trace of his age anymore. He held Shane's face in his hands.
"Am I dreaming?" Shane kissed his forehead and gave him a sad smile.
"No, moya lyubov'," Shane wrapped him in his arms again. "Not dreaming." Ilya tensed, then sank into the embrace. "Alina is upstairs if you want to say goodbye."
"Do we have to go?" Ilya asked. Shane pulled back and kissed the tears from his cheeks.
"We don't have to, if you think she needs us for a while, but it's been a long time. You've lived a full life. You did such a wonderful job, Ilya. Plus..." Shane smiled at him. "Your mother is waiting." Ilya buried his face in Shane's chest.
"You stayed for me," Ilya said, realizing. He remembered seeing Shane on that park bench all those years ago. He thought of all the times he heard Shane's voice or felt his presence... The comfort that it had brought.
"Of course I did," Shane said quietly. "Thank you for staying for me."