A hand on his shoulder woke him from nightmares of death. "Kovy."
He threw off the dreams easily as his focus shifted to the
present. "Is everything ok? Is Dan-"
"Dany's parents are here, Kovy. You should go home, get some rest."
Hartley knew Ilya Kovalchuk had not left Dany Heatley's side since
arriving at the hospital in the wee hours of the morning. "Real
rest."
Ilya had no intention of leaving, but he knew the Heatleys would
want some time alone with their son, even if he'd only woken once
since Ilya'd been there. So ignoring his coach's request, he stood
up, stretching muscles cramped from hours in an uncomfortable
chair. "I am going to get coffee, do you want anything?"
Bob sighed. "No thank you," he muttered, running a hand through his
short hair as Ilya slipped past him and out the door with only one
glance back at Dany.
Ilya nearly ran into Murray Heatley as he exited the room, but it
was Dany's mother who spoke to him first. "Bob told us you've been
here the whole time...thank you, I'm glad he wasn't alone."
For some reason Ilya wanted to tell her that it was hardly a chore,
he wanted to wonder aloud where else he would be. Where exactly do
you go when something like this happens? Other guys had families,
and all he had was Dany. But he just nodded. "He woke up once; I
told him you would be here soon."
She smiled at him and followed her husband into the room, leaving
Ilya to himself. That was the truth; he had told Dany that, not that
Dany had asked. His blue eyes had been clouded with confusion and
pain when they focused on Ilya. "What � where �" His voice had been
strange, almost panicked, and pushed through teeth clenched by the
set of a broken jaw.
"You were in an accident. Sh, relax, you are in the hospital."
He had blinked, he clearly didn't remember. "Ilya?"
"I am here."
And then Dany had started, and tried to sit up. "Dan, where's Dan,
he was in the car..."
Trying to calm him down, Ilya had carefully entwined his fingers
with Dany's, avoiding IVs and monitors, and reached up to gently
stroke his curls. "The doctors are taking good care of him. You have
to calm down, buddy, go back to sleep. Your parents will be here."
Dany's eyelids had been half-closed already when he looked back at
Ilya. "You'll stay?"
"'til they kick me out."
"After that, too."
"Go to sleep, Dany. I love you."
And he had, propelled by his body's need to rest to recover and the
pain meds he'd been pumped full of.
Realizing how long he'd been standing in the hallway, Kovalchuk
shook himself out of the memory and started for the elevator. He was
somehow not surprised to find a group of his teammates occupying a
large table in the cafeteria. The place was bustling � Ilya was
shocked to see it was after noon � and he took the seat Shawn pulled
out for him. Kozzy, Sutts, Tames, Mac, Savy, Byron...these were the
guys that had stayed all day. The rest had been in and out. "So
how's Dany?"
"Sleeping mostly. I don't know."
Silence again, until Shawn said, "Well, Kovy, I'm not sure how you
did it, but I think you look even more like shit than the last time
I saw you."
Shawn had driven him in early that morning, because he couldn't have
driven himself. The captain was also joking, because there was no
way Ilya could look worse after a couple hours fitful sleep at
Dany's bedside then he did when Mac picked him up. He had slipped
into the car before Shawn had even stopped it, but they'd only gone
a couple feet before Mac realized Ilya was in no shape to go
anywhere. Shawn had pulled him into a rough hug across the front
seat of the car. "It's going to be ok, they're going to be fine,
calm down," he had repeated until Ilya could breathe again and
wasn't shaking quite so bad. So he didn't respond to Shawn's
accusation. "How's Dan?"
"Still in surgery," sighed McEachern, looking over his teammates.
They were a weary bunch. "You guys should go home. Get some sleep."
They all looked at him like he was crazy. It looked like they were
all there for the duration.
Ilya looked at his half-finished cup of coffee and sighed, then
stood up abruptly. He couldn't stay away long. "You will let me know
when Dan is out of surgery?"
"Of course, Kovy," Shawn told him, watching the young Russian stalk
away.
Murray and Karin seemed to be engaged in quiet conversation over
their son's bedside, and Ilya was reluctant to interrupt them, but
he didn't feel like being with the other guys either. He sat on the
floor of the hallway a few feet away from the door to Dany's room,
leaning against the wall and drawing his knees up, resting his
forehead on them. Relief that Dany was ok had quickly been
overshadowed by fear for Dan, and Ilya had the unique position of
being the last one to see them the previous night.
And that was really bothering him. Because the last thing he'd said
to Dany was "I bet I'll beat you home," and he was going to regret
it for a while, he had a feeling. It was an old joke, one neither of
them took seriously, because if for a change they weren't driving to
the same home, it took them about the same time anyway. Depending on
who made the stop lights.
But that didn't matter now, because even though it'd been a joke,
and even though Dan had snickered at them, and even though Dany had
grinned and leaned over to softly say he'd call him later, it was
all he could think about. I bet I'll beat you home. He angrily drew
a hand across damp eyes as he leaned back against the wall. Dany was
ok, maybe, Dan was still in surgery, the team was in shock and for
the first time in a long time hockey had not crossed Ilya
Kovalchuk's mind.
He turned his head when his coach sat down beside him on the
floor. "I told you to go home I am pretty sure, Kovy."
Ilya didn't respond. He'd spent a few nights at his condo since
arriving in Atlanta for camp, but he pretty much lived with Dany.
The idea of going "home" was not a good one. He knew that tonight
he'd be forced into a bed because they had to play � shit, who could
think about playing now? � tomorrow. So today, he was staying as
close to Dany as he could. "I am fine here."
"Ilya-" Bob started, but Karin Heatley cleared her throat from the
doorway.
"Dany is...asking for you," she said quietly, and Ilya bounced to
his feet without looking at his coach.
"You said you'd stay," Dany said hoarsely as Ilya took the chair
presumably vacated by Karin. The Russian was extremely conscious of
the presence of Dany's parents and of their coach. Dany appeared to
not care in the least. Maybe it was the painkillers.
"I was just outside, buddy." Dany didn't say anything and Ilya
reached for his hand. "I am not going anywhere, I promise."
"Until tonight, right?"
Ilya traced the back of Dany's hand with his thumb, aware that it
was an intimate gesture, aware of the observers. He figured Dany was
more important. "Until tonight, when they will make me go home."
"Tonight is when I want you here the most," Dany said, almost too
softly for Ilya to hear him.
Ilya didn't respond, just closed his eyes, concentrating on the fact
that Dany's skin was warm under his fingers, that his vein pulsed
steadily at the wrist, that his breaths were audible. That he was
there. He didn't notice Hartley stepping outside the room to talk to
Shawn, until he returned. "Dan is out of surgery," he said, and
Dany's grip began to cut off circulation to Ilya's fingers. "The
doctors say that it went well, that his scans look good. They say
just to wait now."
Ilya nodded, breathing a sigh of relief that Dan was a step closer
to recovery and squeezing Dany's hand. But even with this bit of
good news, he had a feeling this afternoon was going to be just as
long as the morning.
*
*
*
Nine or ten hours later, Ilya had never felt so helpless.
He'd been in and out � mostly in � of Dany's hospital room for
almost 24 hours. He hadn't ingested anything but a couple cups of
coffee in that time. He'd slept a couple hours, fitfully, when Dany
was still out, but even that seemed ages ago.
He was exhausted, a little hypoglycemic and emotionally drained. And
Dany was clutching his hand, begging him to stay, blue eyes
unfocused � drugged. But drugged or not, they were Dany's blue eyes,
pleading with him, needing him, and how could he say no, even if he
did have to be on the ice in 9 hours? So he kept holding Dany's
hand, playing with his curls, telling him that Dan would be ok, that
everything would be ok.
It did work, eventually, and Dany's grip on his hand loosened and
his breathing evened out. Maybe it was fatigue, but it was kind of
like the whole situation came crashing down around him when he
didn't have to be strong for Dany anymore. Fingers still tangled in
the Canadian's hair, Ilya let his forehead drop to Dany's shoulder
and cried.
*
*
*
Karin Heatley stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly across her
chest. It was after midnight, and they were getting thrown out for
the night any minute. It had been the longest day she'd ever had,
starting with the phone call that was every parent's worst
nightmare. "Your son's been in an accident..." was echoing through
her head, and she could only think about how it had felt, a
continent away, to not know that her oldest son was ok. But then she
thought of the Snyder boy's mother, who still didn't know, and
shuddered.
It could be worse.
She took a deep breath, her eyes drifting from her son to the young
man sitting at his bedside, shoulders shaking. He kicked in her
mothering instincts big time, this one, he always had. The first
time Dany had brought him along to a family dinner, he had been
uncertain of everything, language, tradition, all of his
surroundings except for Dany. She had known then, that they were
close, a suspicion Dany had confirmed this summer. When she had told
him that mothers just knew these things, he had just grinned at her,
gap-toothed. The Russian made him happy, and what else could a
parent ask for their child?
She realized it hadn't been an easy phone call for Ilya Kovalchuk,
either, as she moved quietly forward on the tiled floor and rested a
slim hand on his shoulder, pulling up another chair. He jumped,
seemingly surprised to see her, and hastily wiped his eyes, as if
trying to disguise his emotion. He was just a year older than her
Mark, she knew, but his eyes looked older than Dany's. This effect
was doubled when they lacked the youthful spark she usually saw in
them. But weathered or not, this one's mother was a world away, and
he was just a kid. Without hesitation, she stretched her arm across
his broad shoulders and pulled him into a hug.
"I'm sorry," she heard him choke out, the words muffled by her
shoulder.
"For what? Crying? You're allowed to cry, Ilya."
"No...for...it was...just a stupid joke...I did not think..."
He wasn't making any sense, but she didn't question him, knowing he
wasn't in any condition to explain. "It was an accident," she
murmured, rubbing his back. She had married a hockey player and
raised two more � she knew how to handle them. In a few minutes, the
Russian pulled back, sniffing and meeting her eyes with an awkward
smile.
"Thank you..." he said softly, seemingly embarrassed, and she had to
roll her eyes. Men. You'd the think the world was ending because
they showed some emotion.
"You need to go home and sleep," she ordered in her best I'm-the-
mother-so-do-not-argue voice and he smiled a little.
"Kovy?" The voice from the door made them both turn around, and
Karin recognized Andy Sutton by his size if nothing else. "I'm your
ride, buddy," he said. He looked almost as tired as the Russian.
Ilya stood with a sigh and a nod. He hesitated, glancing at Dany,
and seemed to decide that he didn't give a damn what anyone else saw
or thought. Karin couldn't help but smile a little as he leaned
over, his lips brushing Dany's cheek. He whispered something in
Russian that sounded sweet enough to cause further embarrassment if
she called him on it, then stepped back reluctantly, his hand
trailing across Dany's hair as he did so. And then, surprising her,
he bent down to kiss her cheek before following Andy into the hall
and leaving her alone with her sleeping son and her thoughts.
TBC in part 2