Chapter 2
Liam circled his house once more, the pacing doing nothing to soothe him but the desire to move overwhelming.
No one from their team had heard from him (those who were awake when Liam sent out a panicked, mass text at least) all of their replies saying they haven't spoken to him in hours or days twisting the knife.
He was fine.
Mikhail would be fine.
He was a fast driver, sure, but he was a good driver and he would never try and drive after the amount he'd drank.
He wouldn't get behind the wheel.
He'd never crash.
Not if it meant leaving Liam.
"Please," Liam whispered to no-one in particular.
His phone rang, his mom's phone number also set to bypass do not disturb.
He swallowed.
"Mom?"
"Liam?"
Her voice was shaky, on the verge of tears.
It didn't help.
"Mom," he said, voice croaking.
"I don't know what's happened.
I don't know where he is."
"We're on our way, sweetie."
"He's not answering his phone."
"I know, I tried too."
Liam's voice dropped to almost a whisper as though he was in a confessional.
The true enormity of his conversation with Mikhail, maybe the last one he'd ever have, came hurtling back to him.
"Mom, I think it's real."
"We don't know that," she said firmly.
"You don't understand, he told me he was going to drive home.
I didn't tell him not to, he was so fucking drunk I didn't think anyone would let him in a fifty foot radius of a car.
But he's not picking up his phone, Mom, he's not.
He won't answer me!" Liam's voice was escaping his control and the tremors were poorly contained.
"Breathe Liam, we'll be there soon."
There was another knock at the door and that time Liam couldn't kid himself that it was Mikhail.
He couldn't pretend that it was another driver sent by the skincare company as he'd already seen the flash of blue lights as they had rolled up the driveway.
"Mom, the police are here."
The two officers, Wallace and Tremblay, were sat side by side on Liam and Mikhail's couch.
Wallace looked almost insultingly young to be given the task of delivering this news.
Tremblay was older and broad, his enormous hands grasping his hat.
However, when he spoke, his tone was gentle.
"Would you like your mom here before we speak?"
The idea of sitting in agony for another 20 mins seemed pointless to Liam.
He shook his head and fixed his gaze directly on the officer, willing his voice not to shake.
He failed.
"Just tell me."
"Okay Mr Beckett - "
"Volkov-Beckett," Liam corrected out of habit.
They didn't often use their hyphenated names, but it was a luxury when they could.
There had been some bickering over who's name would be first, but Liam had conceded on the basis that Mikhail seemed to just care more about it.
The reason why became very apparent a few weeks later when personalised jerseys arrived.
They weren't for the ice, both were keeping their previous names for that purpose.
These jerseys were just for them.
"Volkov-Beckett!" Mikhail had crowed "and, oh look!
Volkov is always on top."
It was true.
The formatting meant Volkov was directly ontop of Beckett.
The idea that Mikhail had orchestrated changing their names for a bit had been infuriating.
Infuriating at least, for abut five minutes until Mikhail kissed the scowl away from Liam's lips and shown him that yes, Volkov was always on top but Beckett was very happy with that decision.
"Mr Volkov-Beckett - "
"Liam, actually, is fine."
"Liam, yes, of course.
I believe you may have seen some reports in the media and I sincerely apologise for this.
We do our best to avoid news reaching family in such a way but in this case it was unavoidable."
"Okay." Liam wasn't particularly sure what to do with the apology.
"At 04:32am we were called to an RTC which had resulted in a car fire.
The fire had consumed the vehicle by the time services arrived and I regret to say a body has been recovered.
Reviewing CCTV in the lead up to the collision has informed us that this vehicle belonged to Mikhail Volkov."
"Mikhail Volkov-Beckett," Liam whispered, shaking.
"Mikhail Volkov-Beckett," Tremblay agreed gently.
"Formal identification has not taken place and we will be utilising dental records for this purpose, but it is my duty to inform you that we believe your husband was the driver of the vehicle." There was a long beat that seemed to extend for eternity.
"Liam, I am deeply sorry to be telling you this."
There was a commotion from the hallway.
Liam looked up to see his mother barging into the room, her face pale and tear streaked.
She looked from Liam to the officers and lifted a trembling hand to her mouth.
Thomas came in seconds later, copying his wife's movements almost exactly.
"This isn't real," Liam couldn't lift his voice any louder.
"This isn't happening."
His mom was a near-instant present to his side, collapsing onto the couch and wrapping him into a hug.
He couldn't return it, arms unable to do anything more than hang there limply.
His dad settled on his other side and grasped his hand tightly, shoulder wracking with small, ill contained, sobs.
"What happens next?" His mom asked after a minute.
"We formally identify the body.
This may take a few days."
"I want to see him," Liam demanded, surprising himself with how steady his voice was.
His dad squeezed his hand gently.
"Let's not make those kind of decisions now, kiddo."
Liam's instinct to bite back at the nickname bubbled in his throat.
He wanted to pick and fight with someone, anyone.
He wanted to scream or throw up or for the building to collapse around him.
He wanted Mikhail.
"Please," he said imploringly to the officers.
They both looked to each other in silent exchange.
"Once positive identification has taken place, it will be your right to view the remains," Wallace hesitated.
Why the fuck was a child delivering this news, Liam thought.
How could this man look Liam in the eyes and say he could 'view the remains'?
That was his husband, he wanted to see his husband.
"So I'll do that," Liam said, ignoring the intake of breath from his dad.
"We will of course be here to support you," Tremblay nodded to his parents.
"We can be here in person, or if you would like to stay in the presence of relatives we can leave a contact number for any questions.
When we have a positive ID on the body, we will return in person to speak with you."
Liam nodded, his jaw clenching so tight it felt impossible to get more words out.
His dad had gave his hand another squeeze and Liam this time, returned it.
"You don't need to hang around, I want to be with my mom and dad." His voice broke slightly towards the end of the sentence.
His mom stifled a small sniffle.
The officers rose from their seats, offering handshakes and apologies.
His dad took the lead in ushering them out the house with polite thanks that Liam couldn't even begin to find the sincerity for.
The front door closed and the room fell into silence.
Liam looked from parent to parent, their red rimmed eyes and ashen complexions likely mirroring his own.
"So," Mira spoke first, her tone surprisingly measured.
Not that Liam should have expected anything else.
"I'm going to make some tea."
"Okay."
"Would you like to go lie down, Liam?
I'll bring you some."
Liam had no idea how tea was supposed to help, but then he figured nothing would help.
It occurred to him he didn't have a single clue what to do next.
Reality seemed to be shifting and it was almost as though if Liam focused hard enough he could step out of the moment and back to Mikhail.
"Have some water," Thomas suggested.
"I imagine you haven't had anything yet today?"
Liam hadn't but there was every chance he'd throw up anything he tried to swallow.
He shook his head, "I'm fine."
"Maybe try - "
"I don't need anything," Liam snapped.
It was a lie, he did need something but it was entirely impossible to get it.
His parents both recoiled slightly at his sudden raised voice and Liam sent an immediate sense of guilt.
They were only trying to help.
He looked again at their faces, tired and clearly grief-stricken; because that's what they were doing, grieving, grieving for Mikhail.
Liam's lip trembled.
"I can't do this," he told them, tears burning in the corner of his eyes.
At his feet, Misha whined and nuzzled her nose into his hand.
His parents were over in an instant, wrapping him in a double embrace and hushing him as they did when he was a child.
"I know, Liam, I know," Thomas said quietly.
"But we're going to get through this one day at a time."
Liam nodded, slowly withdrawing himself from his parents' arms, squeezing them as he did in an attempt to express how grateful he was to have them there.
He didn't want to emerge from this cocoon and face the world outside it, but Misha was starting to get restless watching the three people hold each other, clearly wanting in on the attention.
Liam pulled away.
"I think maybe I will have some tea, Mom," he said.
Mira nodded, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and withdrew to the kitchen.
Misha followed her hopefully, prompting Liam to check his watch.
07:56am, well past Misha's breakfast time.
Mikhail was meticulous with her diet and schedule; it became somewhat of a skill that he would genuinely know if Misha hadn't been fed on time whenever he was away, 'she tells me, Liam' he'd say smugly.
Liam had never quite figured out how Mikhail always seemed to know when the doggy hotel didn't follow their strict regime.