Chapter Text
Shane woke slowly, like floating up from a dark dream he couldn't remember. Darkness clung to him like cobwebs as he took in a slow breath and realized his throat was dry and irritated, tongue heavy in his mouth. He cracked his eyes open and light came screaming in, chasing away that comforting darkness with painful speed. He squeezed his eyes closed and let out a sound that he wished wasn't quite so pathetic.
Instantly, he heard movement at his side, felt hands on him, heard a voice that swam in the thick syrup of Shane's awareness, not quite making sense until he made out his own name. A hand was squeezing his, and another was on his arm, warm and firm. Shane steeled himself and forced one eye open again, squinting in the brightness as a blurry figure came into view.
"Shane? Yuna he's awake! Shane! I'm here. Can you hear me?"
There was something entirely familiar about the voice that called his mother's name, and then a second figure was there, more hands on him, his mother's voice warm and calm helped him claw his way to full awareness.
"Shane, honey. We're here. Can you squeeze his hand?"
Shane took the simple challenge and managed to urge his muscles to fight off the fatigue, squeezing the hand in his. There were murmurs then, someone suggesting a doctor, and the hand left his, quickly replaced by a smaller hand he figured must be Yuna's. She touched his face gently and he eased his eyes open a bit more, focusing on her, "Mom…"
"I'm here Shane. We're all here. Are you in any pain?"
Shane took a brief inventory of himself and yeah, there was some pain, mostly radiating from his head, but also his shoulders and back. He took a deep breath and found that hurt a bit, "Not bad."
Yuna didn't reply but a moment later a doctor came into the room with a nurse on his heels and Yuna was moved to the side as the man leaned in to shine an annoying light into Shane's eyes. He winced but held still, "Do you know where you are, Shane?" the doctor asked.
"Hospital, I think?" Shane rasped.
"Good and what year is it?"
Shane was puzzled by that question, but he answered anyway, "2011."
The doctor looked away, glancing at Shane's mother, "Do you know what city you're in, Shane?"
"Montreal," Shane said, "Right?"
He was starting to doubt himself now, but this must have been a hockey injury and the last thing he could remember was being in Montreal.
"What does that mean?" There was the voice again, familiar and yet so out of place. Shane turned his head to see none other than Ilya fucking Rozanov standing on the other side of his bed. "He doesn't know where he is? Why?"
"Shane is showing signs of post-traumatic amnesia of the retrograde variety," the doctor said. "This can happen with head injuries like the one Shane suffered. Now that he's awake it will begin to resolve. It can take hours or it can take weeks; it really depends on the patient. I'd like to run some tests for any further symptoms of the traumatic brain injury, but he is in stable condition right now."
"What are you doing here?" Shane blurted then. "This is kinda fucking private, Rozanov so fuck off."
"Shane." Yuna said, but Rozanov shook his head.
"It is okay. He is confused," Rozanov said—and Shane scoffed. "I will step outside."
"It is best not to agitate him," the doctor agreed. "The calmer he stays the better for his recovery although familiar faces can also help. Don't overwhelm him with information and things he doesn't remember. That will only make things worse."
"Thank you, doctor," Yuna said.
The man smiled at Shane and nodded before stepping out of the room. The nurse fussed with Shane's blankets and IV before speaking gently, "You've been on these IV fluids but I'll bet you'd like a drink of water."
"Please," Shane said, feeling completely off center. "Mom?"
"What is it, Shane?"
"It's not 2011?" Shane asked, dreading the answer. "Are we not in Montreal? Did I get hit during a game?"
Yuna looked at him with a sad smile, "Oh honey don't worry about that now. Just worry about getting better."
"But I want to know what happened to me," Shane said. "The doctor said I have a traumatic brain injury. Did somebody take me out of a game?"
Yuna shook her head, "No you tripped on one of Anya's toys on the stairs and fell."
"Who's Anya?"
"Oh gosh I'm not very good at this just… you tripped and fell and hit your head, honey. You were out for a couple of days. There was some swelling in your brain." Yuna took a breath and Shane almost apologized for asking, but she continued, "But you're awake now. You're breathing on your own and talking and you're here with us."
Shane nodded slowly, "Where's Dad?"
"He's in the waiting room. They only let two people back at a time and… well he'll probably come and see you soon.
"How many matches have I missed?"
"None," Yuna said. "It's summer."
Shane was relieved even though that didn't make much sense to him. He wanted to ask about why Ilya Rozanov had been there and how he even knew he'd been hurt. Ilya Rozanov should have been in Russia, on the other side of the world ignoring Shane's texts. What the fuck was he doing at Shane's bedside?
Thinking about it made Shane's head hurt, and when the nurse returned with water he suffered through the nauseating rollercoaster of the bed being raised so he could drink. Once he was still for a few minutes the dizziness subsided and he drank and felt a bit more human. He sat quietly for a moment before muttering, "That's pretty embarrassing, falling down the stairs and landing on my head."
Yuna gave him a gentle smile, "You scared us that's for sure."
Shane hesitated before asking his next question, because acknowledging Ilya Rozanov to his mother felt like crossing a line. However, Yuna had seen him, spoken to him, said nothing about him being in the room as if Rozanov belonged there in the first place, so Shane steeled himself and asked. "Mom… why was Ilya Rozanov here?"
Yuna looked at him for a moment, a wary expression on her face as if she didn't want to answer, then she sighed, "Oh Shane. You two are married."