Chapter Text
It's one of those days where the world feels like wading through cigarette smoke, burning ash on his tongue, clogging his lungs and stinging his eyes.
It's one of those days that feels like skates on uneven ice, used and damaged, the ridged divets making him stumble ever so slightly, not enough to fall, but enough to feel like he's about to.
It's one of those days where he's tired. He's tired in a bone deep way and exhausted from the things that once invigorated him. He's tired in a way where everything is too much and not enough and he needs it all to stop. He just wants it all to stop.
And he hates it. He hates it because he has so much to stay for. He has his team, his career, his Shane.
But this time apart after their beautiful days together at the cottage have left him feeling like he's going through withdrawals. Isn't that something? Withdrawals from being loved.
When he gets a call from an unknown Russian number, he answers it, numbly greeting the caller and not expecting a hollow yet chipper voice addressing him with a detachment ad lack of recognition he so rarely gets nowadays.
"That's me," Ilya says.
"I'm calling on behalf of your brother, Alexei Grigoryveich Rozanov."
Dread pools in Ilya's voice, the severity of her tone telling him enough even though his brain hasn't fully caught up to what it already knows.
"He was killed on duty today," she says. "His car was hit during a police chase after an armed robbery. He was dead on impact."
Ilya takes in a ragged breath. "And his daughter, Evgenia?"
"That is why I'm calling. Mr. Rozanov, you are Evgenia's last living relative. Under Russian law, close relatives are the preferred legal guardians are given priority, but you must apply through Opeka to assume legal guardianship."
"I… I'm in the US." Ilya is already pulling out his suitcase, frantically sorting through what he had still sitting in it from when it was previously packed.
"It would be best if you come to Russia as soon as you can."
"I'll be on the next plane I can get," Ilya says. "What will happent to Evgenia until then?"
"She will be placed in state care until you can claim guardianship."
Ilya curses queitly under his breath. "Is there any way I could get her into temporary care with a trusted family friend until I get there?"
"That can be arranged."
Ilya lets out a sigh of relief and begins to rattle of Svetlana's contact information, texting her as he does, the multitasking making him trip over his words.
Sveta is as understanding as he expects her to be and he couldn't be more grateful to have a friend like her.
He calls his coach, tells him that there is a family emergency and he will be pulling out for the rest of the season, of which they only have a few more games left of. He has no doubts they're on their way to the play-offs but Ilya knows that his team won't take kindly to him pulling out entirely and leaving them hanging with such short notice.
But in this moment, he has a thought he never imagined he'd have.
Hockey doesn't matter right now.
"Tell them I had a season ending injury," Ilya tells them. "I don't care what it is, just something to get people to not speculate and not pry."
He pays too much for the first flight out to Moscow and feels the dent in his bank account as he starts to mentally prepare to finacially provide for two.
He's got more money than he knows what to do with and yet he fears it won't be enough.
He knows it's the illogical anxiety that comes with the rest of this nervewracking situation and yet he can't help but fixate on budgeting, making a damn spreadsheet on the entire planeride to plan for the next five years with every caveat and hypothetical emergency he can think of.
He also reads up on custody law in Russia as well as the states, trying to wrap his head around what he is about to do and what legal hoops he is about to have to jump through.
When he lands, there's a missed call from Svetlana followed by texts reassuring him that Evgenia is with her and everything is settled until he gets there.
When he arrives at Svetalana's home, she meets him at the door and lets him fall apart in her arms. They stay like that for however long it takes him to pull himself together and he goes to see his niece.
"Zhenechka," Ilya breathes, seeing the little girl who clutches the worn stuffed bear that Ilya had gotten her years ago to her chest. He kneels down to get to her level. "I'm sorry I haven't visited."
"I missed you," Evgenia whispers into the fur of her bear.
"I missed you too," Ilya says. "Can I give you a hug?"
She nods shyly and presses her head to his chest, leaning her weight against him timidly. He wraps his arms around her gently, pressing a palm to her hair and brushing through it soothingly when she starts to cry.
"I've got you," Ilya murmurs. He doesn't give her any empty promises or meaningless platitudes. Just reassures her that he's not going anywhere.
He knows that Alexei was not kind to her, not in any physical way, but in his neglect and his uncaring actions.
He will not let this little girl ever feel unloved ever again.
When Evgenia finally pulls away, Ilya gets a good look at her. She's got the Rozanov curls, her eyes a warm hazel and her pale skin flushed from her tears. Ilya wipes the wetness away from her cheeks with his thumbs and she sniffles at his touch.
"I'm sure you're very tired," Ilya says. "Sveta's got a very comfy couch with even comfier blankets. Would you like me to show you?"
She nods wordlessly and Ilya holds out his hand which she wraps her little fingers around.
After getting her to blow her nose and drink a glass of water, he tucks Evgenia in on the couch and she's out in minutes.
"How old is she?" Svetlana asks.
"Seven, I think," Ilya says. He does the math in his mind. "No. Six. Her birthday is in November."
"What are you going to do?"
Ilya takes in a long breath. "I'll… pass whatever tests they have to prove that I should be her guardian. I'll take her back to Boston. I'll get us a better place to live. I…" His words catch in his throat. "I don't know, Sveta. But I'll figure it out. I have to."
It's then that his phone goes off.
Jane.
Ilya's hands are shaking. God, he hasn't told Shane anything that's happened. Would he still want to stick around after all of this?
"I have to take this," Ilya says, stepping into the other room and closing the door.
"Shane—"
"They're saying you were in an accident. They won't say what kind or what injuries you got but that you're out for the rest of the season. Ilya, are you— what happened?"
"Is lie," Ilya says. "I wasn't in an accident."
A long pause. "What?"
"I'm in Russia," Ilya says. "My brother. He's dead."
"Ilya… I'm so sorry."
"I am too. I should have told you."
"Ilya, forget about me. Your brother just died. And… wait. He has a daughter, doesn’t he?"
"He did," Ilya says. "And now, I will be taking care of her."
Another long pause. It makes Ilya's skin crawl with fear.
"What do you need?"
It takes Ilya a moment to comprehend what Shane's said. "What?"
"Ilya, you just found out you've got custody of a kid. What do you need? I can go to your place and baby-proof it. Or, wait, is she a baby? I can… toddler proof. Child proof? How old does a kid have to be before you don't need to proof a house for them?"
"She's six," Ilya says. "I do not know how much proofing my place needs. But, you're in Montreal."
"It's just a five hour drive—"
"You would really do this for us?" Ilya asks with awed disbelief.
"Of course."
"I… need to figure out the now. And then I can think about the long term. I need to get her to the US. I need to make her a room. I need to see how much English she knows. And then I can start thinking about everything else."
"You're coming back?"
"Of course I'm coming back," Ilya says. "I work in Boston."
"But she's from Russia."
Ilya realizes what Shane means. Citizenship. Ilya's visa is already on such a thin line, dictated by his employment by the NHL. How will having a child impact that?
"Ilya," Shane interrupts, and Ilya realizes that he had been muttering all of this out loud.
"I can't go back to Russia, Shane," Ilya says, the words thick. "I can't. But we have no ties there, so if that's what she needs, if that's what needs to happen—"
"Marry me."
Ilya freezes, heart stuttering and brain going blank at the words. "What did you say?"
"Marry me," Shane repeats after a long terrifying silence. "You said you don't have any ties over here. Well you have me. And if we're married then that means that you two could legally become Canadian citizens since you said staying Russian citizens isn't what is best for either of you and the two of you applying for American citizenship would be a complicated pain in the ass." Shane takes in a trembling breath. "And if we were married I could apply for stepparent adoption of Evgenia. So she could have two legal parents in case anything…" He trails off. "If you'd rather that be Svetalana, I completely understand—"
"Shane."
"And I know what we have is new. Well, not new, but new—"
"Shane."
Finally, he shuts up.
"It makes sense, what you say. Get married. Legal blabla gets fixed. Evgenia has someone who is not me in case of emergency and we don't stay in Russia. I… I appreciate knowing that I am not alone in this."
"You aren't," Shane says. "Either of you. And my parents, I know they will be there for the two of you however you need them."
Ilya's heart warms. "First, I get us to the US. I get her a room. I get to kiss you and hold you and fuck you until neither of us can think. Then we can talk about this again."
Shane lets out a small amused snort. "Okay."
"Okay? Is okay?"
"Yeah, Ilya. Everything will be okay."