Dany Heatley never felt as close to anyone as he did to Ilya Kovalchuk when
they were on the ice. It was like they shared a brain. It was a
sixth sense...Dany always knew where Ilya was. Always. He knew when he
was driving to the net, when he was hovering in the slot. When the
Russian had the puck, Dany always knew where he had to go to receive a
pass, and he knew when Ilya was going to shoot and to look for a rebound.
Hell, he could even feel the lack of Ilya when the Russian wasn�t on the
ice with Dany � when he was off serving illegal stick penalties and such.
Which was why Dany was feeling so confused right now, sitting on the plane
to Pittsburgh. His seatmate was asleep already, and Dany sat staring down
at the magazine in his lap. Ilya had bought it in the airport, shyly
commenting that it must be some honor to be called the Canadian soul on
ice. To be mentioned with Ron Francis and Martin Brodeur and Simon
Gagne. Dany had rolled his eyes, but somehow compliments from the most
talented hockey player Dany had ever observed made him flush, made him
feel warm inside.
But then Dany was afraid that it wasn�t compliments from the most talented
hockey player he�s ever observed that caused that reaction. He was afraid
it was compliments from Ilya.
He stared down at the picture in his lap. He couldn�t remember where they�d
met � they�d never been teammates � but they�d clicked. Two years now.
Two years of late-night phone calls and stolen moments. Two years of
flying out at 6 after practice and returning at 6 the next morning. Dany
had gotten back to Atlanta before practice yesterday. He could still feel
Simon�s touch.
He sighed, letting his breath out with a shudder. They�d been saying "I love
you" for a year and a half. And Dany did, he�d never lied. But now...now
and for a year he�d had a connection with a Russian winger that was
somehow like and better than the one he had with a French-Canadian
winger.
He guessed he�d been thinking too loudly, because Ilya stirred beside him,
focusing deep, dark eyes on him. "Charasho?" he mumbled.
"Da, charasho," Dany replied with a smile. It was forced, but he hoped his
linemate wouldn�t notice.
Ilya�s gaze flickered from Dany�s face to the magazine in his lap, opened to
Simon Gagne�s page. "You see him night before last, yes?"
Unable to successfully mask his surprise, Dany nodded. How had Ilya known?
Why didn�t he care? How long had he known?
Ilya shrugged as if hearing all the questions in Dany�s head. "Ya nye
znayou. I just knew. I heard you on the phone sometimes."
"And you...you..."
"Of course I do not care," he said, reading his friend�s thoughts again. Dany
was beginning to realize just how often he did that. "You are my best
friend, Dan."
Dany shivered. Ilya didn�t call him 'Dan' very often, and when he did...it
sounded so affectionate. He looked back down at the picture. He knew how
Simon�s hair felt, damp between his fingers. He knew the powerful muscles
hidden behind pads in the picture. Shutting his eyes briefly, he sighed
again.
Meanwhile, Ilya took the magazine from him and flipped to Dany�s page. "It is
good picture of you," he said softly.
Dany poked the hockey stick he was clutching in the image. "I know it�s
unfamiliar, but see the curve on that stick? It�s LEGAL." Ilya reacted
immediately, elbowing Dany in the ribs, and glaring at him, a competitive
fire lit in his eyes. But Dany could see the slight grin and flash of
amusement in his dark brown eyes. "Sorry," he grinned, not sorry at all.
Sighing, the Russian sat back in his seat, tossing the magazine onto the floor
of the airplane. "Hey, Dany?"
"Hm?"
"Are you...is...well we are in Pennsylvania and I know Flyers are off tonight."
Dany swallowed. "Yes...after we skate, before the game."
Dany watched Ilya nod out of the corner of his eye. "Oh."
"You could...you could come along if you want. We�re just eating and stuff."
Ilya laughed a little. "Heh, no. I would not want to be in the way, Dany."
"You�re never in the way," Dany said, before he thought about it. "I always
want you around."
"Really?" Their eyes met and Dany saw something in the depths that he�d never
noticed before. He didn�t even know what it was. It scared him a little
more than he was already scared about his feelings, both towards Simon and
Ilya.
"'course," he said, having to look down. Ilya�s gaze was too intense, too
probing for him. "Like you said...best friends."
Ilya mumbled something in Russian and the parts of it Dany caught he didn�t
understand. "What?"
"Nothing," Kovalchuk said with a smile. "Never mind."
Dany nodded and averted his eyes to the window, unable to watch him anymore
without his thoughts getting more conflicted.
But he found on the rest of the flight to Pittsburgh that he was thinking less
and less of seeing Simon again and more and more about what the Russian to
his left was thinking.
Continued in part 2