The team was mostly focused on coach Curt Fraser as he gave the pregame talk
in Boston. But a few were distracted. One of them was Ilya Kovalchuk,
who was more concerned with the fear gnawing away at his stomach than the
same old strategies. It was the first of back to back games and the first
with Dany since his admission of what Dany already knew in the Diner on
Tuesday morning.
It wasn�t that Dany�s reaction had been bad. It was just that there hadn�t
really been a reaction. He could see it, at first, the wealth of emotion
in his eyes. But it was obvious to Ilya that Dany didn�t understand any
of his own feelings.
And hate it though he did, it was not Ilya�s job to explain those feelings to
Dany.
So he dealt with the fear, dealt with the fact that he hadn�t eaten anything
all day and wasn�t sure how he was going to make it through a 60 minute
hockey game, dealt with it all, and mentally prepared himself to go out
there and perform. Nothing mattered on the ice. Nothing could.
The meeting was over, the players were lining up to go out for the National
Anthem. Ilya blanked his mind and overrode any demands the rest of his
body might be making for the next 48 hours. Two days, two games, Boston
and D.C., and then he�d deal with it.
Maybe.
*
*
*
Dany was trying not to notice Ilya�s turmoil. He was trying not to feel
miserably guilty for being responsible for it. He was failing splendidly
on both accounts.
It was impossible to ignore him now. Not when he had stared out the window
until the plane from Washington to Atlanta got into the air. Not when he
had lowered the tray table immediately after and rested his forehead on
his forearms, effectively hiding from everyone. Not when he had that damn
puck clutched in one hand. Not when he hadn�t even accepted Dany�s
congratulations on his first NHL hat trick.
Now it was time to stop being a selfish asshole and care about someone else.
Swallowing, Dany moved up a seat into the one next to Ilya. The Russian
didn�t seem to notice him. Lightly, Dany rested a hand on Ilya�s back,
sliding it up to his neck, rubbing gently. �You�re only one person,
Kovy. You can�t do everything. You can�t blame yourself.�
When he spoke, his voice was husky and tired, thick with tears Dany knew he
wouldn�t let himself shed. �No vsye ya khachoo dyelat.�
It took Dany a moment to process. But I want to do everything. �I...I know
you do. But you are doing your best. You�re phenomenal out there,
buddy. You�re untouchable. You�re just...a beautiful hockey player.�
Kovalchuk slid the arm not clutching the game puck out from under his head and
reached up for Dany�s hand. He removed it from his neck. But he didn�t
let go. Dany curled his fingers around Ilya�s hand, his thumb stroking
over the knuckles in a soft caress.
Ilya raised his head slowly, red, tired eyes meeting Dany�s in disbelief as
the Canadian looked back steadily. Though he didn�t show it, Heatley was
shocked by his roommate�s appearance. He was pale and exhausted and it
registered with Dany that he hadn�t seen him eat since...had he been at
lunch in Boston? Dany couldn�t remember. Maybe not. A fresh wave of
guilt washed over him. �Dan...�
A plea. Please don�t do this to me, Dany could hear in that word. �Get some
rest, Ilya,� was all he said. �I brought a blanket.� He let go of Ilya�s
hand to spread the blanket over them both and then moved his hand right
back to where it had been. This time, Ilya threaded his fingers with
Dany�s, holding tight, as if he wasn�t planning on letting go. �Sleep,
buddy,� Dany said again.
Blinking suddenly, Ilya nodded slightly, and he didn�t resist as Dany guided
his head to his shoulder.
*
*
*
They both woke as the plane began to descend into Atlanta, Dany first,
stretching a little and disturbing Ilya, who raised his head and opened
his eyes with a barely audible gasp. Frowning, Dany squeezed his
hand. �Kharasho?�
That got him obvious relaxation and a small smile. �Da, kharasho.�
The plane halted its taxi into the gate, and their teammates began to stand,
gathering their belongings. Ilya rose, too, but not before brushing his
lips gently against Dany�s cheek. �Spaciba, Dan. Ya tebya lyublyu.�
He shouldered his small bag and stepped past Dany into the aisle, leaving his
linemate speechless for the second time in four days.
Continued inpart 9