Archive of Our Own ^beta

Cecilia Hayes hates the night shift. It always means extra work, since the morning crew thinks it's a nice idea to leave unfinished things from them. There is a lot of paperwork incomplete, or filled in the wrong way, messy medications schedules, patients to be transferred for another sector, requests from the doctors and the team to be done, gurneys to be cleaned, bedsheets to be changed and not enough people to do everything.

The Montreal General Hospital is, in fact, a set of tall old buildings, painted in a tone between dark orange and brown, rising itself in the middle of the city like a lighthouse from boats in a harbor. It hasn't the pomposity from the old buildings, looking more like a block with sharp angles and straight lines, windows precisely put in equal distance from each other, glass polished until it reflects sunlight back. It was the vision from this building that made Cecília fell in love with the idea of being a nurse when she was a child and her mother, the receptionist, used to bring her there when nobody could take care of her.

It wasn't a deception when she started to work at the MGH, like all her other friends from college. Some of them even quit and tried another career path. Cecilia was used to the chaos from the emergency, since her mother worked there, and already experienced screaming, mass hysteria, terrible accidents, death and life at the same time, doctors crashing because they couldn't do anything and brave nurses always in the front line for everything. And she was just a kid in her earliest 10s, with curious brow eyes and a scheming mind for emergency situations. When she finally got a job at the hospital where she was practically raised, Cecilia was fully ready for the job.

Her life was built around the MGH. Cecilia's first apartment was rented near to the hospital, above an awful cafeteria with a terrible smell of rotten food. She met her husband in a conference at the hospital: he is a security engineer and was giving lectures for the IT department, when Cecilia passed by him, helping with a heart crash in the corridor. She always laughed about that story, and made fun of him saying how impressed he got for that. Their kid, a boy called Noah, was born there, of course, and the team made a huge party for them in gratitude.

Cecilia loved her job, there wasn't discussion about that, she simply doesn't like her schedule shift. But when she drove to MGH that night, she felt somehow relieved about working on a Saturday night.

She parked the car and picked her jacket. It was a cold night, and the wind made her hair fly in a lot of directions. Cecilia walked slowly, head down, kicking some rocks out of her way. She smiled at the security guard, hit her dot, and changed her clothes in the employee changing room. She checked her phone and found a picture of Noah and Caleb, her husband, with a bucket of popcorn. Cecilia smiled and sent a picture back of her in scrubs, her badge tied in the pants.

Cecilia walked to the reception from the emergency. It was a quiet night, an unusual one, but the explanation from that was on the big TV screen on the wall, where all the eyes were staring at.

“Night, Jena.” She said, on the counter, to the receptionist.

Jena didn't even listen, her head turned to the TV. Cecilia smiled.

“Oh, hello inspector!”

Jena jumped on her chair, the blonde braid moving fast. Her brown eyes winned and one moment later she rolled them.

“Fuck you.” Jena whispered. “Jesus, Ceci, don't scare me like that again.”

“You're so concentrated on the game, imagine if it was really the inspector.”

Jena nodded her head and sighted.

“I don't even like to think about that.” She starred on TV again. “Metros are playing so well today! I hope we stamp on Boston, don't you think?”

“Yes… I hope too.” Cecilia shrugged. She wasn't inside of sports, in general, and almost felt happy in work and scape of watching a boring game like hockey.

“Aren't your family there?”

“Ah, yes. Caleb wanted Noah to have a full experience with hockey.”

“Is Noah still a Ilya's fan?”

Cecilia laughed.

“Caleb said it's a phase, but that boy has been a Rozanov fan since he was three. But now he likes Hollander too, so I think it's progress.” 

Jena put her elbows on the counter.

“Like a Metro cheer, I hope so!”

“Good luck at the game.” Cecilia gave two beats on the counter. “I need to check some patients, because the morning crew just can't do it.”

Jena agreed, but turned back to the TV a second later.

Cecilia walked through the neurology department. She had a specialization on that, and It was designed to check and accompany head trauma patients. Most of them were elderly people, victims from falls, and needed full attention on their clinical picture. But there were some small kids, some the same age as Noah, with broken bones from skating or other dangerous sports, that hit their heads in the process. And, of course, accident victims, with several injuries, a lot of medications and worried families that didn't know if they would survive or not.

“Good night, mister…” Cecilia checked the medical record. “Williams, how are you tonight?”

“Better now that you're here.” Wiliams said, with a big smile.

“Nice to hear that.” Cecilia smiled back. “Now, tell me about your head. Any pain today?”

“No.” He nodded. “But can you keep the lights low? It 's too bright.”

Cecilia frowned her forehead, and wrote “Sensible to light” and added a note to inform the doctor and check Williams more often at night.

“Of course, let me adjust for you.”

She was handling the lights, when someone burst through the door. It was a security member, breathing heavily, his face in a scare expression. Cecilia froze and thought about the worst things: Noah was hurt, Caleb was hurt, a shooter came to the hospital, there was a fire in someplace, a patient was crashing…

“Cecilia Hayes?” He asked. “They asked me to call you. It's an emergency.”

“But-”

“They asked especially for you.” The guard said again.

“Okay, okay.”

Cecilia walked fast through the corridor, curious and worried. What on earth could just happen? She was trying to think in emergency cases to keep it a secret, since the guard didn't mention anything. There weren't many of them that Cecilia knew among the years at the MGH. She thought about politicians, CEO's, even mafia — although Montreal wasn't a city with these activities, some of them used to cross the frontier for medical resources. Every corridor they crossed, Cecilia got more anxious and suspicious, and the ideas were running through her head.

Her heart stopped when they crossed for the exclusive part from the MGH, reserved for famous people. The guard stopped and Cecilia jaw almost fell on the floor, staring a boy that she knows very well from her TV screen, in every game: Shane Hollander, awake in a gurney, with a neck protection around him, purple marks at his face, an arm immobilized, hair messy and pale cheeks. Cecilia could see his freckles, evidenced for the ceiling lights. A lot of doctors were circulating him, his heartbeat in the monitor, no blood to see, but clinical pictures should be serious for the expression on the doctors.

“Hayes!” Doctor Storrie, the doctor from the night shift, called her. “Sorry for taking you from your duties, but I couldn't think of anyone better in that case.”

Cecilia blinked and she was thankful for her skills to manage her emotions. This was what brought her so far, she was sure about that.

“What do you have?”

“Head trauma and probably a broken arm. We are checking for injuries at the ribs, burning we're not sure. Come and help me.”

“Sure.”

That was nurse Hayes, not Cecilia. Nurse Hayes was objective, cold-blooded, focused only on the patient's health. She was a tough woman, precisely following the doctor Storrie orders and with a great memorie. She added a memo with Shane medications schedules, and wrote down all the possible complications for the next few days. In the end, he was out of danger but would feel pain for the next few days. Doctor Storrie choose Cecilia to talk with the family — she had this fame of being a great commutation with families since the beginning.

Cecilia took a breath before walking through the doors, with a soft smile. Yuna and David Hollander were waiting, their hands intertwined, worried eyes. They stood up when she came, and Cecilia noticed tears on Yuna's face. She imagines if it was Noah, one day, laid down at that bed, awake, with tubes getting out of him and his heartbeat showing up at the monitor. It was always hard when it was a young boy, that looked that much with her kid, and the similarities were inevitable.

“He is okay.” She said, opening the smile. “He's going to sleep for a while, and will probably be high when wakes up, but he's out of danger.”

“Thank god.” Yuna sighed, but there wasn't relief on her face yet. “When can I see him?”

“In a few minutes. He's going to a room, to be more comfortable, and you can visit him.”

“Thank you for telling us.” David said and hugged his wife.

Cecilia nodded. It was the time to live them, but staring Yuna's face, she couldn't restrain to say one more thing:

“He's a strong boy.” Cecilia looked into Yuna's eyes. “Shane will recover. He will be okay.”

She gave that look to Yuna. That one, when a mother sees another mother holding her kid while she's having a tantrum. Or when the baby is crying loudly, and the dad is doing nothing, standing by her side like an idiot. When a mother notices the tired eyes, catches the messy hair, the shoulders down, but the other is smiling like a sun to her kid. When a mother looks at another mother, waiting for news about her son's life, worried and scared, because yes, he is an adult but he is still her baby.

That look of understanding the deep love contained in motherhood, Cecilia gives to Yuna, a woman that she barely knows, but can put in her shoes. They both now, and share that brief moment, a rarity of having your feelings received for someone that truly understands you.

Doctor Storrie asks Cecilia to stay in care of Hollander. She should be going home in the morning and hugging her husband and child on a lazy Sunday day. But she accepted her duties — because she knows how good she was and because that boy keeps reminding her of Noah. She receives a pager, in case Shane or Storrie needs something, and was dispensed to have a little sleep when the sun started to illuminate the dark sky, changing turns with another nurse. Hollander's clinical condition wasn't that bad, and they needed all the privacy they could get to avoid media harassment, just getting the minimum number of employees to work.

When she woke up, she called Caleb a couple minutes before her shift started. But it wasn't her husband who answered by video: a small kid, with black dark hair skewered in many directions, angular brown eyes, slim like a needle, and a round face with a big smile. He was in the kitchen, she noticed, probably sitting on the counter.

“Noah?” Cecilia asked, confused. “What are you doing with your dad's phone?”

“Clash of clans!” He screamed. “Daddy said I can play today.”

Cecilia opened her mouth to complain, but closed with a sigh. It was Sunday, and her son could play a little bit more on the weekend.

“Sorry…” Caleb's voice interrupted the conversation. Cecilia saw his hair, close to Noah.

“It 's okay.” She softened her voice. “Are you having lunch?”

“We are cooking tsukemono for today. Did you eat? Did you sleep?” Caleb asked, still out of the screen.

“Yes and yes. I'm sorry for not warning you about the… Emergency.”

“It's okay.” Cecilia smiled, with love in her eyes, hearing the same softness in his voice. “If you need something, send a message."

“I will let you know.” Carefully, she asked her child. “Did you like the game yesterday? Noah?”

“No! Shane got hurt really bad.” Noah made an angry face. “Is he there, mommy? In your hospital?”

“No.” And she heard Caleb gasping, probably wondering the reason for Cecilia's lack of communication. “He needs the team doctor.”

Noah nodded with all the seriousness that was necessary from his 6 years old.

“Do you think he's going to be okay?”

She thought about that kid, laid in the gurney, how much he looked with her own son.

“Of course, honey! He's a strong player, remender?”

“Yes, he is. I have his card, daddy gave me yesterday. He's the best player from the league!”

“Better than Rozanov?”

Noah frowned his face, and Cecilia saw his conflicted thoughts. Caleb always said that he looked exactly like her when he was thinking, putting all his focus into organizing his mind.

“Maybe.” He decided.

“Definitely.” Caleb added. “But at least, Rozanov seemed worried with Hollander, rivals only on the ice.”

She discussed the accident with them a little bit more. The video was in every news, and Cecilia watched on repeat. She observed Shane with the puck, turning to Ilya Rozanov for a second, before colliding with another player and falling violently in the ice, motionless. Cecilia froze the image, in the minute when I looked at Ilya, and imagined for a second what he was doing. Was it a provocation? A joke? Was he… smiling?

She was still thinking about the crash when her shift started again. Doctor Storrie was there, giving instructions about Shane's medications. Yunna and David were by his side, and seemed exhausted.

“He will probably wake right now.” He said, and nodded in sign for Cecilia to apply the injection.

Shane's eyelids moved fast and his face crumbled in discomfort. He blinked once, slow and uniform, and did the same movement a few times, adjusting for the lights. Yunna pressed his hand, biting her lower lip, expecting.

“Hello.” Doctor Storrie said. “Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital.” He said, without moving his head. “I… I had a crash? In the game.”

“Yes, you did boy. But you're going to be okay. Your parents are here and I'm going to do a quick check on you.”

Cecilia stepped away, letting the Hollander have their moments. She wrote notes on Shane's report, his progress, level of pain, response to the meds — and she needed to hide a smile with lips pressed because he was really high —, important information to put in the note for the press, diet from the next days, exams and necessary doctor appointments. She programmed her pager with the right schedule of meds and visits.

“Hayes, can you check him in a few minutes? To see his reaction with the drugs.” Storrie asked. “I'm going to talk with his parents.”

“Sure.” Cecilia agreed.

She said goodbye to the Hollander with a smile, Yunna giving her a lingering look — again, a glance that just another mother would understand. Cecilia was distracted, in the hallway, putting in order Shane's meds, when someone passed by her, quickly. She raised her head, ready to say that wasn't allowed visits, but froze when notice who was: Ilia Rozanov.

The same blonde boy, a little bit pale, wearing a jacket, his hands in his pocket, his eyes moving from the ceiling to the floor, clearly nervous. It was different from that stubborn guy that she often saw at the games: there is anxiety in his face, uncertainty in his moves.

Cecilia should probably say something, but she just stood there and waited. He was the captain from the other team, and it was normal to visit your rival that got hurt in a match against you. But she kept thinking about the video, about Shane turning back to him, in his face to Ilya.

He entered the room before she could say something.

“Ilya!” 

She listened to Shane's voice, in an excited tone because of drugs. Ilya closed the door and Cecilia couldn't hear anything else. She looked at the corridor, looking for the Hollander and doctor Storrie. They should be back in a few minutes, and she decided to give them some privacy, and waited at the entrance.

Her hands got sweaty and her heart raced, like she was running from something. Cecilia felt like a god damn teenager, hiding a secret from her mother or going to a place that shouldn't go. Her right foot hit the floor in a rhythm, and she paid attention to the sounds, trying to listen to someone close. But her eyes went to the glass, on Shane's room door, and they winned in surprise: Iliya Rozanov was caressing Shane Hollander cheek, in a gentle move.

Fifteen seconds later, she listened to Yuna's voice in a talk with doctor Storrie, swallowed her shock, smiled and opened the door.

“Oh, no…” Shane said with a sad voice.

Ilya almost jumped, and stepped back like he was electrified. He looked at her, smiling, but his eyes were full of guilt, fear, relief and pain, everything together. Cecilia knew that combo well, she spent a lot of time with family members in the MGH, and all of them had the same glance, the same shadow around their loved ones.

They said goodbye to each other, Ilya almost running from the room like it was on fire.

“Hello, Shane.” She said in a professional tone. “How are you feeling?"

“Goooood.” He smiled, all teeth and light. “Where is my mom?”

“Outside, she's talking with doctor Storrie.” Cecilia checked his signs on the monitor. “Do you need something? Any pain?”

She heard Yuna's and David's voice, talking about paperwork and discharge from the hospital. Cecilia's knees trembled at how close Ilya and Shane almost got caught.

“Nope.” Shane nodded his head, exaggerating in the “p” sound. “I'm good.”

“Great. I will check you later, okay? These meds are going to knock you for a while.”

“Good. Ilya always said that I need to sleep more.”

Cecilia froze. He said “Ilya” with a soft caress voice, like Caleb says her name every morning.

“It's to have a good sleep schedule for an athlete.” She said that, her throat suddenly dry.

“I know, but he's so bossy. Sane, do this, Shane, now do that.” He laughed at his own imitation of a Russian accent. “He's an asshole.”

Friends, she thought, they should be friends behind that rivalry on TV. And of course Ilya was worried about his friend getting hit by his teammate. But Cecilia was sure that friends don't talk about the other with bright and loving eyes like Shane.

“He's just worried about you.”

“Yes…” Shane sighed, his face twisted in a grimace, the purple marks on his face evidenced. “I hope he didn't worry that much at the cottage. Only happy moments are allowed there.”

“I hope so.” She answered, when looked at her, waiting for an answer.

Shane smiled, big and very, very high.

“It's good to be in love, huh?” He looked at the ceiling. “It's good to love that guy. I think my heart may explode from this feeling. Wait, can a heart really explode with love?”

Cecilia needed to contain her gasp, and decided to raise the drug's dose by a milligram before Shane's parents entered the room. 

“No.” She said, adjusting the dose. “But It can die of heartbreak.”

“Oh, no!” Shane's face turned sad, and his eyes teared. “That's… sad.”

Cecilia regretted saying that, but her mouth was disconnected from her brain, trying to process the last piece of information.

“But it's your case, I'm sure he loves you back.” She said, nervously, and wanted to kick herself for her lack of professionalism.

“Do you?”

“Yes, I do.”

Cecilia smiled at Shane, and saw his face get soft again. She helped him to lay back on the bed, getting comfortable, and watched his eyes closing, slowly.

He got discharged two days later, and Cecilia never mentioned that conversation. Shane seemed to forget about that day, back to being the shy player like always, sleeping most of the time. Yunna gave a goodbye hug to Cecilia, a tight one, filled with gratitude and kindness. Cecilia hugged her back in the same way. She went home, met with Noah, and kissed his head, and Cecilia thought about Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov again. 

Among the years, she never stopped to think about the details, and the scenes played on her mind like a movie. The tension on Ilya's shoulders, the fear and love on his eyes, the way he touched Shane's cheek with reverence. Shane's tone voice when he mentioned the other player, his happiness, even with drugs, about Rozanov presence, the way he confessed his love so freely. Of course, she never spoke about that. First, because Cecilia was a decent human being and won't break the others' private matters. Second, because she was an ethical nurse, and knew about the privacy between the health team and the patient.

But she couldn't keep herself out of the news anymore.

When Boston got out of the playoffs, she thought about how Shane and Ilya were feeling about that. When Scoot Hunter kissed his boyfriend in Stanley Cup finals, she teared and remembered about that two boys sharing a moment at the MGH, and wish they had peace together — she knew it about how the world could be cruel with someone, being a single mother daughter, a woman and having a asian descendent kid. When Ilya announced that was going to Ottawa Centaurs and her husband said:

“What the hell is he doing? It's like, end of career for him!”

Cecilia sip her coffee, quietly, because she realized that Ottawa was closer to Montreal than Boston. And Shane Hollander was still a Metro player.

When they made a press conference about the Irina Foundation and she saw the pictures, Cecilia smiled. Shane had love eyes at Ilya all the time, his hands close, their shoulders touching at some point, Ilya's smile different: it was a true one, open and proud, and inevitable, filled with love. She thought about how bad they were at hiding and how nobody noticed before. Cecilia even saw some old videos of them, and gosh, that fucking guys were in love for a long time, weren't they?

Some years later, when she was ready for her night shift at the MGH, it happened. She passed through Jena, with another joke in her tongue about the receptionist distraction, when Cecilia saw the news in her phone: a leaked video of Shane Hollander and Ilya Rozanov kissing. She worked that day thinking about them, thinking about Yuna and her fierce protection with them — Ilya would probably be under her wings too. She thought about her own kid, about those guys looking at each other with so much love.

Cecilia cried a little bit with their come out posts. And her husband didn't understand when she bought tickets for the beginning of the season, three seats for Ottawa Centaurs game. Noah went crazy, he was obsessed with the idea of his two favorite players on the same team.

She just needed to see them. See and support, even if it was a small support in an awful league and a terrific world. When Rozanov and Hollander entered the rink, and looked at each other in the same way that years ago, on the MGH, Cecilia screamed. And clapped.