Love Lost
Part One
Ilya is doing his absolute best. This is not how he wanted to meet Shane’s parents for the first time. This is not how he wanted them to find out about them being mated. His Alpha is pacing like a caged beast and the only thing holding Ilya together in this second is the fact that this is Shane’s mother and Shane would never forgive him if Ilya harmed her.
Yuna’s eyes are fire red, Ilya is aware enough to know his must be matching, rising to the obvious challenge, “how can I even trust it’s you,” she’s hissing in Ilya’s face. “He hates you.”
“Okay, come on now,” she lets herself be pulled away by David, Shane’s father.
A doctor hovers awkwardly, “we really need to let Shane’s mate in.”
“Yes,” Ilya agrees instantly, words slightly slurred by his fully distended fangs, “let us listen to this guy.”
“But-” Yuna starts to protest again.
“The scent of a non mate, non familial Alpha, will instantly distress Shane in his current state, we will know immediately if this is Shane’s Alpha or not.”
Yuna’s eyes are brown again, and full of unshed tears when she finally turns back to Ilya, “I don’t understand why he would hide this from us. I don’t understand why he let you bite him there, if I find out you pressured him I swear to god-” her eyes bleed red again, David holding her by the upper arms.
Ilya is practically vibrating with the need to get to Shane, and he’s a small inconvenience away from going though Yuna Hollander if he has too. Familial Alpha or not.
So he ignores her completely and talks to the doctor man hovering nearby, “I am Shane’s mate, I am his Alpha, and I am telling you now, take me to him or I will start looking.”
The doctor doesn’t even bother to confirm with Yuna, even if she probably is still Shane’s Alpha on paper as far as medical records and all that stuff goes.
Ilya follows, aware that Yuna’s gaze is boring into the back of his head. Let them follow. Let them see. Ilya has had enough of reigning in his Alpha for other peoples benefit. He’s not an animal, he’s not a slave to his Alpha, but at the first sight of Shane, all higher brain function checks out. He was holding on by quite a fine thread; it snaps.
Shane has a room to himself, the lights are off, and the room is dim but for the sunlight finding it's way through the fluttering blinds. Shane is curled up tight in the hospital bed, one of the wide ones, for nesting. The metal rails on either side are helping to keep the pillows and blankets in a vaguely nest shape.
It scents a lot like another Omega, somehow familiar, but not Shane. David most likely, since Shane does not look in any fit state to build a nest. But Ilya’s brain dismisses the scent of another Omega. Not a threat; doesn’t matter.
Ilya strips his shirt and ditches it in the same moment as he works his shoes off by stepping on the heels. He drops his sweatpants too. He hears Yuna growl. He really doesn’t care.
Ilya slips over the barrier carefully, not wanting to hurt Shane. He looks small, so pale and delicate curled up in the bed. Shane never looks small, not like this. He looks like a broken bird. It makes Ilya’s throat tight, so see Shane’s face scrunched in discomfort. The moment Ilya settles, carefully working himself between Shane and the wall of the nest, Shane snuggles closer. It takes a minute of careful negotiation, mindful of the tube and wires coming off Shane, but Shane settles once he’s half on top of Ilya, mouth and nose pressed to Ilya’s scent gland. He doesn’t seem to wake through the movement, or at least, not fully. Ilya carefully adjusts the blankets, pulling them up over Shane’s bare back; the horrible gown thing only tied loosely in place at the neck.
The sickly scent of Shane and pain and blood permeates everything, wafting out with Shane’s movements.
Shane whimpers; Ilya responds with a soothing grumble.
There’s movement in Ilya’s peripheral vision, and instinctively he bares his fangs, hissing. The doctor from before lifts both hands, a peaceful gesture, “I’m checking that Shane’s okay, and then I’m leaving. This is best for Shane.”
Apparently those are the magic words, because although Ilya can’t settle, ready to move in defense of Shane if he has to, he lets the doctor work.
“He’s already stabilizing, we should give them some space.”
And Ilya watches as Shane’s parents, reluctantly on his Moms part, leave the room with the doctor.
Shane snuffles, trying to get closer, Ilya gives a comforting rumble, and tries not to let the worry for Shane eat him alive.
“What happened?” Shane’s voice is quiet, rough. A little slurred; he sounds exhausted. Ilya adjusts them, mindful of the needle Shane has in his arm, and the tube coming from it.
“You took a hit, went down,” Ilya answers, just as quiet.
“I don’t remember,” Shane’s voice is quiet where his mouth is pressed to Ilya’s skin.
“It...looked bad. How do you feel?”
“Thirsty. Head hurts.” Shane shifts again, unsettled, and Ilya wants to give him some water but he doesn’t know if he can. Lying here next to Shane, bathing in his scent, even if it is sickly, has done a lot to settle Ilya’s Alpha. He reaches for the call button, then makes sure Shane is decently covered, wrapping himself to keep scent and warmth close to Shane.
The nurse comes, turning off the call bell.
She moves quietly, like she knows how delicate Shane feels in Ilya’s arms. The lights are dimmed for comfort, in reverence to the nest, to protect Shane’s eyes and help with the pain in his head.
“Can he have water? And he is hurting.”
She nods, disappears for several minutes. When she comes back she has a tray, some water, a sippy cup. One of those stiff paper bowls. She puts it down on the wheeled table and brings it closer.
“Small sips,” she fills the cup and puts the lid on, “in case he vomits,” the bowl. Finally she picks up a syringe, fiddling with Shane’s drip tube thing, she injects something, “should help with the pain for a while.”
Ilya nods his thanks, and she slips out again.
Shane lifts his head, just enough, and one handed Ilya holds the spout of the cup to his lips; Shane sips, before lowering his head again.
Ilya has nothing now, but his thoughts, Shane’s soft breathing, and the quiet beep of the heart monitor.
Shane shifts, and Ilya senses he’s awake again. “How long have we been here?”
He sounds a lot clearer now, at least, Ilya consults the clock on the wall, “it is almost twenty four hours ago you took the hit.”
“Oh,” Shane shifts, and Ilya helps. He groans, but seems determined to sit up. He drinks the water Ilya gives him.
“Slow, careful. How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a bus,” Shane leans into Ilya’s side again, seeks out Ilya’s scent, breathing deep before he pulls back, “wait, crap,” Ilya can scent the panic rising in his scent, “my parents, you can’t-”
“I have met your parents Shane. They know I’m here. You needed me,” Ilya reaches up, sliding a hand up Shane’s bare back, he doesn’t scruff Shane, but he rests his hand there, a gentle touch, reassuring.
“How did...how did that go?”
It’s better to tell him, Ilya knows, but he wishes he could spare Shane. Wishes he could lie, “Yuna was...very angry.”
Shane closes his eyes, rubbing at his forehead, “she knows we’re mated.”
It isn’t a question, but Ilya, confirms it anyway, “they told her yes. They found the bite while you were unconscious.”
Shane’s scent churns, turns sickly, “because that’s not at all mortifying.” He shifts again, “oh God she’s going to be so upset.”
“She will understand, she loves you. She was only angry because she wanted to protect you.”
Shane turns, “was she angry with you? Was it bad?” Shane shifts again, face crumpling with disgust, “and why am I wet?”
“Moye solnyshko, posmotri na menya,” my sunshine, look at me. Shane does, he looks up at Ilya. But Ilya stalls, “maybe the doctor should explain-”
“No,” Shane stops him immediately, “whatever it is, I want to hear it from you. And then I need a shower.”
Ilya nods, swallowing, “you have two broken ribs, and some abdominal trauma. You have had a miscarriage.”
Shane’s hand flies to his stomach, clutching at the fabric of the horrible hospital gown, “what? No, no that can’t be. My last heat was in the summer. That, it can’t be right-”
“The doctor will talk to you, I am sorry solnyshko, it was already happening when you got to the hospital. There was nothing they could do.” Ilya swallows thickly, tries not to think about it too hard. It was very early; just a collection of cells, really. But, still, Ilya mourns it. His Alpha rumbles quietly in distress, and Shane automatically trills. Shane tries to comfort him.
“No, solnyshko,” Ilya shifts them both a little supporting Shane against his own body, “I am fine, you are hurt.”
Shane nods, staring at the bedding, blinking at nothing, “have you been dealing with everything, speaking to the doctors while I’ve been sleeping-”
“Yes. Yes once it was confirmed I am your Alpha, they changed your paperwork, they have not been speaking to your parents, and I think it has made Yuna even more angry with me but- I did not know what to do for the best- I am sorry. I would not let them put a catheter in, you are wet, but I did not think you would want tube while you slept.”
“No,” Shane’s scent is fearful, upset, sickly, angry, embarrassed, a hundred other things that make Ilya want to pull him close and fix it all. “No, you did the right thing, fucking catheter,” Shane shudders at the thought of it.
“I have been changing you, I did not let them touch you,” Ilya nuzzles at the short hairs at the back of Shane’s neck.
“Thank you. Thank you I really appreciate it. I...really want a shower.”
“This will hurt, solnyshko, maybe you should stay here, let me wash you and change the sheets-”
“No. No Ilya, I need to get out of this bed. I can’t face anyone like this.”
“Okay, okay, I understand.” And he does, he does understand Shane’s pride. Shane has been hiding his Omega status his entire life; forcing himself to be the strongest he can be, all day every day, it is all he knows. Asking Shane to remain in a nest, where people might see him, is not something Shane could tolerate; an Omega in his nest is the epitome of weakness to Shane. It is a visual representation, a reminder, of everything he hates.
It will be bad enough that he has already spent a day in one where people could see.
Ilya puts the side of the bed down, carefully climbing out so that Shane is not disturbed. Ilya moves the cushions and blankets of the nest, “did you build this?”
Ilya snorts, “of course not. I think David.”
“That makes sense, I thought it was really good.” Ilya tries to not be offended by Shane’s lack of faith in his nest building abilities. Also, it is true. Shane is a strong nest builder, on the rare occasions when he allows himself to build them, Ilya is not. Shane builds what are, probably, the best nests in the world. Not that Ilya is biased toward his perfect mate, but Shane takes on nest building the same way he takes on everything else; with a clear plan and proper preparation.
Shane, very tentatively, stands up, holding onto Ilya’s arms. The pad he had been lying on is wet with yellow urine and a smear of brown, dried blood. Ilya reaches and folds it over itself before Shane can see it. With Shane leaning on Ilya a little, he walks, slow, small steps, and together they make it to the bathroom, with Ilya’s free hand, he tugs along the metal pole contraption with the bag of fluids being fed into Shane’s arm.
The bathroom is clinical, hospital. A bright orange emergency pull chord dangles, there are grab rails everywhere. The shower is just in the corner, a plastic chair off to one side, the floor sloping down a little to a drain.
Ilya gets the water running before helping Shane out of his gown. Ilya has spent the last day in the same pair of boxers he came in wearing, so he simply slips them off.
Shane’s abs are a mess of purple and blue bruises. The darkest point at the bottom of his ribs on the right hand side. Shane makes a pained noise when he sees himself in the mirror. He stands as steam fills the small, clinical bathroom, his hand resting low on his stomach.
“Ilya,” he says, desperately. The tears come, then, “Ilya, a pup. Our pup. And it’s my fault, I didn’t know and now-”
Shane dissolves into choked sobs, tears streaming messily down his cheeks as Ilya, tentatively because of the injuries, holds Shane as best he can. Agony spikes in Shane’s scent. Crying must be pulling the bruises, the injury, the great heaving sobs must be hurting him; cracked ribs are very painful.
Ilya senses the moment Shane breaks, sinks into a feedback loop of grief and pain that feed on each other. Every sob spiking the pain that remembers the grief.
Ilya coos nothing noises in Shane’s ear. He tries not to be dragged under himself, into the grief of the loss of their pup. The scent of Shane’s utter devastation is strong, too strong in such a small space.
“Come, under the water,” Shane nods, and allows himself to be moved into the warmth. Ilya follows, moving the metal pole on it’s uneven wheels. He focuses on Shane, and Shane only. Finds that place where he can ignore himself and the turmoil that seems to be growing in his chest. He pushes it down; blocks it out. Shane, he focuses on his mate, only on his mate.
“Hurts,” Shane’s voice is broken, raw.
“I know. I know,” Ilya shushes, coos, rumbles comfort as best he can as Shane gets hold of one of those grabs rails, Still clinging to Ilya with his free hand.
They stand together under the flow of warm water, Ilya propping Shane up until, slowly, Shane’s tears run out. “Ilya,” he says, panicked again, scent confused by the steam and stream of hot water now. Ilya makes a noise to show he’s listening. “I need the bathroom.”
“To piss?” Shane nods, “just go. I do not care.” Shane makes a disconcerted noise, clearly unhappy, “you are suffering, I will not move you just for this, just go. It will wash with the water. It is not the first time you have wetted on me, and it will not be the last.”
“That’s different,” Shane protests weakly, but he gives in, Ilya senses the moment he relaxes, and Shane must be pissing on him, the way they’re pressed together, the way Shane’s soft cock is resting against Ilya’s thigh, the heat of it lost in amongst the warmth of the water already running down Ilya’s skin.
Shane hates his heats. Hates everything about wetting. Hates that his body betrays him so savagely every summer. Ilya has never cared; it is natural, normal part of the heat. It shows Shane’s fertility, his health, his Omega’s acceptance of his Alpha.
Shane lets Ilya shampoo his hair with the scentless soap that comes from the pump fixed on the wall. Ilya soaps his hands, and is the most careful he has ever been in his life as he runs soapy hands down Shane’s back, over his ass, and very gently washes away any remnants of dried blood from between his cheeks and across his hole.
Shane leans away, desperately gripping the safety rail as Ilya kneels to clean his shins and thighs. Shane’s legs are shaking; Ilya needs to get him out of here. Ilya doesn’t even touch Shane’s middle; the whole area looks a dark patch of agony. He soaps his hands one last time, giving Shane’s soft cock a very careful wash, swiping soap over his balls before letting the warm water rinse him clean.
“Okay,” Ilya turns off the water, grabbing a towel to hold gently around Shane’s hips, another one to rest over his shoulders. Ilya shivers, not caring that he’s naked and dripping. Once they get out of the bathroom, Shane immediately balks at the sight of the nest, so Ilya leads him to the armchair.
The noise Shane makes as Ilya lowers him into the seat will haunt Ilya. The quiet agony, the pained desperate exhale. Ilya gets two more towels, wrapping Shane’s legs and head so that he can sit and dry in his own warmth while Ilya quickly dries himself. Yuna brought a bag of Shane’s clothes, so Ilya slides on a pair of Shane’s boxers and sweatpants, keeping Shane’s favorite, softest sweatpants and jersey out for Shane to wear in a minute.
“What else have the doctors told you?” Shane’s voice is weak, hollow. He is staring at nothing.
“You had an x-ray and some scans. Two broken ribs, trauma, abdominal swelling. Nothing ruptured, no internal bleeding, just severe bruising. You will have to have another scan before we leave they...they need to make sure there is nothing left inside. They will do another scan, in about a week, once some of the swelling has gone down.”
Shane just nods, and closes his eyes.
It is unlike Shane to allow Ilya to do things like this for him. So Ilya knows it is bad. If it is pain, or...sadness. Whichever, Shane sits passively and allows Ilya to dry his hair, between his toes. Put socks and underwear and sweatpants on him. Get a tee shirt over his head and then, when he is ready, help him to stand so that it can all be pulled up at once. Ilya leaves everything low on Shane’s hips, so as too not press on anything too sore.
“Where are my mom and dad?”
“I can get the nurse to call them, now you are dressed, if you want? I should probably tell the doctor you are awake.”
Shane eyes the remains of the nest, but then just closes his eyes, defeated, “yes. Yes please.”
Ilya nods, and is glad to have something to do after a day spent in bed, “I will tidy a little first, solnyshko.”
Shane catches Ilya’s wrist and he moves past, throat working, eyes wet, “thank you.”
Ilya just nods. He understands. Thank you for everything, thank you for being my Alpha, thank you for standing guard, for dealing with the doctors and parents. Thank you for packing away the nest so no one sees, thank you.
Ilya puts the wet padding in the clinical waste, like the nurse showed him. He strips everything else; pillow cases and sheets and blankets go into the white laundry bag. Ilya stacks the horrible rubbery hospital pillows neatly on the horrible plastic mattress.
It is like the nest never was. He goes out to the desk down the hall; he tells them Shane is awake. He asks them to call Shane’s parents.
Yuna makes a strangled noise when she comes through the door, and Ilya doesn’t miss it. The split second she takes to glare at him, before she goes to Shane’s side.
“I’m okay mom,” but he makes it a lie, and starts crying again. David pulls up a chair for Yuna, one of those cheap plastic hospital things so she can sit next to Shane, and Ilya takes a step back, hovers around the back of the chair to give them space to sit close to Shane.
Yuna says something in rapid fire French, handing Shane a tissue from the box on the table.
“No,” Shane replies, “and no, speak in English, Ilya doesn’t understand.”
She speaks in French again, “mom, no,” Shane draws in a shaky breath, “I can’t- don’t ever say that to me again. Ilya is my mate.”
Ilya growls, moving closer to the back of the chair again, resting a hand on Shane’s shoulder, thumb pressing against the back of his neck. For a spit second, Yuna’s eyes meet Ilya’s, and for that split second, they are fire red.
“I don’t want to deal with this now, okay? But I love Ilya, we’ve been together since rookie season-”
Yuna draws in a very sharp breath at that.
“I know. I know okay. I should have told you sooner, but it just...there was never a time. Or it just never felt like it. And I am going to say this one time, and one time only,” despite how rough and tearful and washed out Shane’s voice is, there is steel threaded through what he says next, “Ilya bit me exactly where I asked him to. Me. Okay? No one made that choice for me.”
Ilya growls again, at the implication of what Yuna must have just said to her son. Shane’s hand comes up to rest on top of Ilya’s.
“It was entirely my choice to keep everything from you, do not blame Ilya for my choice.”
“But I don’t understand- you hate him-”
“Mom-”
But Ilya is growling again, and he doesn’t even try to bite it back, “Shane is hurt. He does not need to have this conversation now.”
“Errr...hi, sorry if I’m interrupting,” there is a nurse in the doorway, and the room smells thickly of Shane’s sadness and pain, and Yuna and Ilya, competing protective Alphas. David is doing his best to radiate calm, but it is not doing much in the soup of everyone else's scents. The nurse comes in with a tray; a cup of something hot and meaty smelling, a bottle containing a meal replacement drink; apple flavor. A carton of orange juice, and another carton of red jello. “The doctor has ordered clear fluids for this first meal, he wants your bladder full for the scan. And then hopefully he can okay you for discharge. These are painkillers.”
Shane takes the little pot and shots both pills dry. The nurse thanks him and retreats.
Shane goes for the hot drink first, but just holds it in his hands for warmth. “You should try and drink it honey.”
Yuna has apparently decided to take the route of simply ignoring Ilya’s existence completely.
“I will. Just so they can do the scan and I can get out of here.”
Yuna nods, “of course, you can ride home with us, and your room-”
“No,” Shane speaks quietly, “no. I’m going to the cottage with Ilya.”
“Shane, honey, you’ve just been through something traumatic, you’ve lost a pup-”
Shane’s scent spikes agony, Ilya is hissing at Yuna before he can stop himself, only Shane grabbing Ilya’s wrist keeps him moving any further around the chair. Yuna is on her feet, eyes red, glaring.
“Mom,” Shane says, but everyone ignores him, Ilya and Yuna fixed, staring each other down. “Mom!” he tries again, louder, and Yuna blinks her eyes clear, looking at her son. “I understand. I understand okay, that you’re worried, and that you’re used to being the one who takes care of me. I understand that you’re used to being my Alpha, and that you want to keep me safe. I understand all of those things. But I do not have the energy to manage you right now. How you’re feeling is your problem.”
Ilya exhales, takes a step back. He doesn’t think he’s ever been prouder of Shane than in that moment.
“I will take Shane to the cottage,” and since Yuna will be his mother in law, he offers an olive branch, “I can message you, updates. I will look after Shane.”
“If we call-”
“I will answer. Or call back as soon as I can, okay?”
“Okay.” She breathes out, scent finally leveling, “okay. I’m so sorry Shane, you’re right. I didn’t mean to make this any harder for you it’s, it’s just a lot. That’s not an excuse, it’s just…”
“I know. I know mom. I can...as soon as I feel up to it, we can talk about it.”
Ilya has no idea what there is to talk about, no amount of talking will remove Ilya’s bite from where it is hidden high up on the inside of Shane’s thigh. But if this is what Shane’s family needs to be okay, Ilya will go along with it, for Shane.
If it gets them out of here faster, Ilya will do anything.
Ilya sits on the hard plastic chair. There is a gap of two chairs, and then David, and then Yuna.
Even without the scent cloying the air of the hallways, Ilya can feel the animosity coming off Yuna. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Shane had a plan; he always has a plan. It’s one of the things Ilya loves about him so much, his many, many, boring plans. Ilya likes to ride the wave, take things as they come; Shane doesn’t get out of bed without plan A, B, and C.
They were going to start a charity, next year. Shane was going to become a free agent at the end of the season; he has a short list of acceptable teams he has already talked through with their agent. Their shared agent, another thing they still have to break to Yuna. She has no idea that Farah also manages Ilya.
Farah also likes a plan; Ilya has been informed of the teams that he could acceptably transfer to at the end of the season. They would be closer together; they would start being seen in public, and then, maybe, after another couple of seasons, Shane would shift his attention to the charity. To the hockey camps. He would retire from the league.
Ilya would put a bite on his neck, where everyone could see. They would think about pups. Shane would come out, publicly, as an Omega. He would shout that he has done all these things, all the achievements, all the trophies, and he’s done it as an Omega.
Ilya is, was, and will always be very supportive of this plan, it is a good plan. Especially the pups part; Ilya is certain that between them, he and Shane could breed a new generation of some sort of super Hockey player. He has joked, many times, about how Shane would need to produce enough boys for a team.
They had laughed about it. It does not feel funny now.
In the quiet dark of their bedroom, in the absolute sanctity of their nest, Shane had confessed that he had hoped that, one day, things would change. That Omega would be accepted. That he could light a fuse that would one day change how the league thinks about Omega.
But none of Shane’s plans matter. Not right in this moment, when Ilya has to sit on this hard plastic chair and wait to see what the doctor says about the scan Shane is enduring alone.
Ilya had assumed he could go in with Shane, but unfortunately, so had Yuna.
Shane had looked at them both, standing expectantly in the doorway, and completely circumvented the issue by declaring that he would go in alone.
Ilya does not blame him. Managing the expectations of territorial Alphas is probably not very high on Shane’s priorities right this second.
When the door opens, a nurse wheels Shane back to his room, and all three of them follow along like faithful little ducklings.
Part Three