Lyon had burst in seconds ago, having heard the commotion, to find Loke trying to calm a hyperventilating Gray. They were seated facing each other, with Gray desperately, unknowingly, trying to grab at his wrist, which Loke firmly held, covering the tally marks.
As soon as the idea had left Gildarts' mouth, of talking face to face with his mom, even just her spirit, Loke had seen the signs. The impending panic attack had grown more and more apparent with the revelation that they had a workable spell, that it hadn't been just a theory Wendy had talked about that night.
Lyon dashed to their side, taking Gray's other arm and pulling it away, careful to take his hand, so he wouldn't fall into the illusion that he was being restrained. He rubbed soothingly along his fingers and knuckles, left uncovered by the freshly changed bandages, glad to see them still free of blood. Gray stopped trying to pull away, but he still struggled to breathe.
With one arm now free, Loke gently brought the hand he still held up, placing it upon his own chest, right over his heart. This had always worked before, a tried and true method of helping Gray regain control.
"Gray, listen to my voice. We're right here, okay? Lyon and I, we won't let anything hurt you. Just breathe with me. In and out. Nice and slow. You can do it. In … and out. A little deeper … In …"
They heard a loud bang as the front door burst open, followed by Erza's voice calling for them as she crossed the living room to where they were. She took in what was happening, and sent her requiped sword back into her pocket dimension, from where she'd summoned it upon hearing the excited shouts from across the street during her patrol. She approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the boys, who were successfully talking Gray down.
She heard the sounds of muffled yelling, casting her eyes about the room, before locating the source as Gray's com lacrima. Picking it up, she was welcomed by angered, worried shouts from … Gildarts!?
"—Loke! Gray! Someone better answer, or so help me God—"
Looking up, she made eye contact with Lyon, receiving a nod at her presence, before stepping out into the living room so she wouldn't distract from what was happening.
"Gildarts, what's going on?"
"Erza! You tell me. I was talking to Gray, and all of a sudden, all I could hear were alarmed shouts, and no one was answering me. What the Hell happened?"
"I'm not sure. I was on patrol when I heard the commotion. It looks like Gray was having some kind of attack ..."
She looked up to see the rest of her team had arrived, shushing them before they could interrupt. As Natsu and Happy eyed the damaged front door, knowing Erza must have been in too much of a hurry to remember she had a copy of the key, Lucy approached Erza while Wendy and Carla went straight for Gray.
" ... but the others are helping him now. What were you two talking about before?"
"...*sigh* I brought up the idea of using that spell Cana told me about. We all agreed I should talk to him about it."
"Yeah, but he didn't freak out when Wendy brought it up. What did you say?" Natsu asked, dropping the ruined doorknob on the ottoman, to Erza's blushing shrug.
"Just that you guys had worked hard to figure out how to make it work for humans, and that I thought it would help him in the long run. I have no idea what set him off."
Peeking into the dining room, Lucy reported, "It looks like he's calmed down. We can probably go in soon."
"I'll leave him to you, then. You're in a better position to help him, anyway, and I've got an early appointment with Ajeel in the morning. Natsu, give me a call tomorrow. Let me know what happens … And take care of him. It drives me nuts not being able to be there."
"You got it. Talk to you tomorrow," he answered somberly.
Deactivating the lacrima, he tossed it unto the recliner on the way to the dining room, followed by Lucy and Erza, all of them taking a seat around the table.
Gray was currently leaning forward, his face pressed against Loke's shoulder as the lion spirit whispered calming words, rubbing the back of his head in comfort. He was crying. Looking around, the team could see distress in Lyon's eyes, and something unexpected in Wendy's: shame.
In a whisper, Erza asked, "Wendy, what's wrong?"
Gray must have heard, as he'd stiffened and grabbed onto Loke's jacket, drawing himself closer. Loke shushed and cooed, saying it was alright, that he was there, seeming like a father soothing his distraught son. Wendy looked to Lyon for guidance, which he offered in the form of a short nod, before kneeling and placing a hand on Gray's shoulder, quietly letting him know who was all there.
Wendy joined the others at the table, taking one last look at the sadness she felt she had inadvertently caused, before looking down at her tightly clasped hands, and explained.
"They were talking about the Milky Way spell, trying to get him to at least think about trying it. Something was said about having everything we needed. He started remembering that day I used it to summon Zirconis. From within the dragon graveyard. And … he figured out that … the spell only works if we have the proper catalyst," looking up now, she finished, a slight tremor in her voice, "He knows we have a piece of his mom."
Natsu cursed, balling both hands into fists, while Lucy gasped, covering her mouth in dismay. Erza looked down in consternation, feeling like she'd played a part in failing to protect her friend from this heartache. They should have anticipated this. Everyone had been so excited about the prospect of making this reunion happen, that they'd failed to take the logistics into account.
A strained quiet settled over the room, no one knowing how to proceed. Gray had stopped crying at some point, still leaning heavily against Loke, as he breathed harshly, exhaustedly. Soon, that too eased, and the lull in his heavy gasps allowed for another sound to be heard. A soft, gentle purring, from his ever faithful companion, still in his lap, still offering the little bit of comfort she knew she could give.
Taking in and releasing a deep, shuddering breath, he straightened in his chair, finding it hard not to sag as he brought shaking hands to his young cat, gingerly picking her up and holding her close to his chest. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on feeling what little calmness he could still eke out from having his numb, stiff fingers comb through her fur. To his friends, he'd never looked so lost, so haggard, so completely defeated. He'd finally lost the strength and desire to put up a strong front.
He'd never been so broken.
"Gray?" Lyon quietly asked.
What could he be thinking? Was he angry at them, for once again pushing him towards an undesired option? Disappointed at the presumption that they thought they could influence such a decision? Perhaps the loss they perceived was his surrender to their wishes, that he'd given up resistance, and would simply go through the motions now, to do as they'd say, because they obviously knew better than him. That last thought was terrifying to them.
Still looking down, he took one more deep breath, then
" ... Loke?"
"I'm here. What do you need?"
...
" ... I need …
...
" ... I … I can't … can't keep going on like this. I need this to stop …
...
" ... I'm ... so tired."
Loke chose not to relay these words to the others. At least for the moment, this was just a talk between two best friends.
"I know. I remember. I wish there was more I could do, something I could think of that would actually help … "
The pause that followed was unnerving, and Loke wondered if his choice of words had discouraged him from continuing.
...
"There is."
Still petting Joy, he took the time they were obviously giving him to pull his thoughts together. Many minutes of nervous silence later, he lifted his head, opened his eyes, and pleaded, a great need reflected in his eyes.
"Be my voice."
Feeling as though a great responsibility had just befallen him, Loke straightened and replied with a tone of conviction and assurance.
"Always."
His friends were wrong. It wasn't brokenness they'd seen.
It was resolve. He'd come to some kind of decision.
...
...
"I had a lot of time to think today. That encounter with Bisca … really threw me off. And regardless of all the fears, of the dark whispers and foreboding thoughts that plague me every time Lucy or Erza, or any of the girls, are around; of how … hard it is for me to keep from breaking down, if only for Asuka's sake, whenever Bisca is near ... I still like her. I respect her. She's so strong, kind, dependable. She's a wonderful mom. And she's helped me remember that … that such a mom could still exist … Helped me remember—"
Just more conflict to overwhelm his too fractured mind.
The fact that he'd almost let her die still frightened him. He felt that a part of him was prejudiced against her status as a mother, that her calling had allowed him to be able to consider the option of letting her go. But it was also her title of Mom, specifically Asuka's mom, that had emboldened him to set his fears aside in order to rescue her. He didn't want to consider the implications that he truly didn't know what would have happened if she had been any other woman. Would he have saved her if she had been a stranger?
But he had saved her. In that one instant, he had proven to himself that he wouldn't be ruled by fear. Could he build upon that?
" ... Saving her … helped me to remember that … that there was once a time, before all this happened … I would have given anything … to have been able to save my mom."
Lucy was heartbroken. Out of all her friends, she most could sympathize with how he was feeling right now. What she wouldn't give to be able to see her mom one more time. Natsu and Erza may not have had much experience with mothers, but they didn't need to in order to feel his pain.
"And those monsters took those precious memories away … "
Lyon had been there, mere hours after the attack that had doomed his village. He'd helped him bury his parents. His own memories from so long ago may be vague, but he could never forget the anger and hurt that had radiated from the young boy that would one day be his chosen brother.
…
" ... I just … I was the only one … Everyone else ... my whole village ... my whole world...
…
" ... I was the only one who lived … The only one left to carry the memories of so many people who no longer existed...
...
" ... I just … I wish I wasn't the only one … I wish there was someone else … *sniff* … someone … who could help me carry those memories that remain ... All those ghosts... to remember …
...
"... You … you asked me what I needed … what I … to make it stop … to help me … I …
He was struggling with this, fear and doubt trying to take hold once more. But Lyon, having sat with him through many sleepless nights; having witnessed so many terror induced flashbacks and panic attacks; having lived with him, laughed and grieved with him, shared his many burdens, and celebrated his far fewer victories with him; was able to take all of these experiences, and just know what it was he so desperately needed to say, if only he could bring himself to say it.
"... Gray … It's okay. We want to know. We may never have met all the people you'd lost, but you can share what you can remember of them, and we can carry those memories with you. So you won't be the only one anymore. Tell us about them ... About your parents."
With a great sigh, he nodded, as if glad to have received a permission he'd known he'd never be refused, but still felt shy to ask for.
Once more, they waited. No one wanted to interrupt the fragile peace that had fallen over this gathering.
…
…
He'd known this was coming, had even prepared for the inevitable wave of emotions that would surface when he would finally open this chapter of his story for the first time since he'd closed it the night Deliora came. He would come to learn that it was ... easier than he thought it'd be.
"Both of my parents were musicians. When I was a kid, there was always music in our home. My dad was a flutist. Anything that was woodwind, he could play as if he'd designed the damned thing, just for his use alone. My … my mom … she … she played the piano. Before I was born, they'd performed together in the village orchestra, traveling to different venues, and to far off villages, providing the score for sold-out plays and musicals. They loved musical theatre."
With that introduction, so many pieces fell into place. That explained all those incidents in which he grew so upset when music was involved.
"They had to slow down when I was born. They chose to do so. It wasn't like they had no choice. They both wanted to settle down, raise a family ... grow old together ...
No one said anything as he tried to keep himself from giving into his sorrow right then. Fighting back the shudders and gasps, if not the tears, he continued.
"She would … would give music lessons to the local children. I'd always watched. I was … fascinated by the flow and movement of her hands across the keyboard, and the beautiful sounds they could coax out of that large, wooden box in the corner of our family room. For me, that was my first exposure to magic."
It was like a spell had been cast, drawing them all in as he weaved his tale. Of all the adventures they'd had, and all the exciting stories they could tell, none held as much interest to them as what they were hearing right now.
"One day, when I was a month shy of turning four, I climbed onto the bench by that box, and started to play. I don't remember what it was, just some tune my mom always had the other kids play. She wrote it herself. I'd listened to them play it so many times, and watched as my mom corrected their postures and finger placements.
"I guess I must have paid attention, because my dad would tell me years later that mom had thought one of her students had snuck into the house to get some extra practice in. I played the tune flawlessly, if a little mechanically. There wasn't any ... heart in it ... not yet. I was just copying what I'd seen … I'd always been good at copying things. But she was so proud ..." he said, having to stop as his breath hitched a bit.
Joy stirred then, purring, nuzzling his hand, demanding scritches. He indulged her, relieved at the excuse to pause in his recollections for this brief moment. He was starting to feel the exhaustion of the day's many griefs. As Joy settled down, he began anew, a barely noticeable smile gracing his lips.
"Dad was excited, but had always been a pragmatist. After I'd had a couple of years on the piano, he came home one day with a small violin. He said that we already had a pianist and a flutist in the family. If I wanted to play with them, I could be the violinist. I was ecstatic. Before, I'd had to take turns with my mom. Now, we could all play together ... It was perfect.
...
"Mom had said that ... that I had the perfect hands for the violin. Dad used to tease me, saying that I'd gotten my mom's hands, they were so small and effeminate. I remember smiling then. Because I'd always loved watching her's play, or cook, or sew. They were so beautiful ... so graceful. She would tease him right back, saying to just give it time ... That I'd grow to be a strong, capable man ... That I'd have my dad's hands one day ..."
He cut himself off again, openly rubbing at the scars on his hands, the obvious reason for this current pause. Some of them wondered if he even remembered they were there. Because this was honestly the longest string of sentences they'd gotten out of him in months.
"I can't … I can't play anymore … my hands … they can't … They're gone … *sob* ... They're gone, Natsu … I can't bring them back … I can never bring them back …"
Natsu now understood why he had been so devastated that night. It was through playing that violin that he could regain a small piece of what he'd lost all those years ago. Any chance he got to play, it allowed him, for those brief moments, to be able to bring his parents back to life. It must have brought him so much comfort and joy over the years to have such a wonderful keepsake from them: The memories of all the time they'd spent together, creating bonds through their music.
No one wanted to speak, afraid to interrupt the spell that his flow of words had cast upon them. This was such a rare opportunity to delve into his past, such an intimate piece of himself that he was sharing. Because of this, it was difficult to bring themselves to stop him when it became apparent he was growing more distressed.
For whatever reason, everyone looked towards Lyon for guidance. Perhaps because, with the exception of Loke, he was the oldest, and had spent more time with Gray than anyone else in recent history. He almost wanted to put an end to this as well, but as they'd seen over and over, it was better to let him vent and release everything he was willing to let go. So he made the judgment to allow him to continue. If he really wanted this part of himself known, they would honor that, and absorb every word.
"That very first tune I'd played, the one my mom wrote; she'd added lyrics to it over the years. It became our ... our special song. A lullaby. She ... she never published it. It was just for us, a song from her to me alone … I'd forgotten it even existed after so many years … until … *ahem* So ... that was our life. Music and love filled our home. We weren't wealthy, but we were never without … I had everything I could ever need ...
"I remember … feeling grateful that day …
"... That very day …
"... until Deliora appeared, and took everything away."
And with those jarring words of finality, the spell was broken, and it felt like they'd all fallen into a great chasm. Everyone knew what had eventually happened to his parents. But just like reading a tragic story for a second time, fully knowing how it would end, but still childishly holding out hope for a different outcome, they all felt that disappointment now.
Natsu, Erza, and Lucy had all experienced tragic childhoods. They'd all known life as orphans. Neither Natsu nor Erza had ever known their biological parents, but for that short encounter between Erza and Irene. Lucy had loved her mother, only to lose her when she was ten. She'd had her father still, though he was distant and cruel at times. At least in the end, before he died, she could say they'd had a loving relationship. But none of them had ever really considered how hard Gray must have had it.
He had absolutely loved his parents. He'd done things with them, had a real bond with them, had developed such a trusting, nurturing, caring relationship with both of his parents. And had lost them. It felt like, when it came to family, even though he'd had so much more than them as a child, it just meant he had so much more to lose.
They were at a loss for words. What could anyone say after such a series of revelations?
He sighed, releasing Joy as he closed his eyes again. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on the table, and laced his fingers together, hiding his face from view behind his clasped hands. They couldn't tell if he was thinking, or maybe praying. He could have even been sleeping. He'd said he was tired, though no one would have mistaken his meaning. It wasn't just a physical exhaustion that had him so weary.
But it was late, and sleep would do him some good either way.
"Gray?" Lyon started, but didn't know how to continue. Simply asking if he felt better now seemed so insensitive and inappropriate. But suggesting he should try to get some sleep seemed like they'd be rushing him, or that they were feeling uncomfortable with all they'd just heard, and were wanting to put it behind them already.
But he lowered his hands, head still tilted downward, and brought up a new subject that none of them were expecting.
"I thought they were gone. But then Tartarus happened, and it turned out my dad was … I don't remember what I thought when I first saw him. It just couldn't be true. That he was alive … but he wasn't. Not really. But seeing him freed me from things within that I knew were there, just … I never fully realized how much was there. So much anger, and bitterness. Grief. And … longing. I didn't want to acknowledge him. I didn't want him to be real. But in the end, I found that I truly needed him to be. He gave me a closure I never knew I needed … And I … I … "
He was shaking, eyes closed and breaths coming in choked gasps as he tried to finish.
Loke, quietly, soothingly, tried to intervene, "We can stop if you need to. Continue in the morning."
He shook his head, stubbornly determined to say this final thing, or he'd never be able to, if given time to think it over, to allow doubt to build again. It had to be now.
"Seeing my father again was one of the most painful things I'd ever gone through … But it also helped me. It released a darkness within me that I'd held onto for so long … and left me a little more whole, like something I hadn't known was missing had been returned."
He paused once more, and his friends could almost feel his anguish as he tried in vain to calm down. But the trembling slowed, and his gasps became tightly controlled breaths. He finally raised his head, just a little, enough so they could see the simmering anger and grief in the depths of his eyes.
" ... That son of a bitch … took so many things from me … so much … But of all the things he took, the worst of all ...
Though nothing in his demeanor changed, they could all tell that something cold and dark and had settled with his next words.
"I … hate her … so much …*sob*... I've never felt such a ... a visceral hatred. Not even against Deliora. That thing was just a mindless beast. Designed to kill … What that bitch did to me was … malicious. Calculated. There was thought and purpose behind every action, every word … I can never forgive what she did to me …
...
" ... But … I want so badly to be able to say it wasn't her … and to believe it. *sob* I don't … want to hate her anymore. I don't want … to fear her! I miss her! ... *sob* I want to be able to … to remember her the way she was. I want her back! I want those memories back! That F*CKING BASTARD TOOK THEM AWAY! HE TOOK THEM—"
Loke grabbed him, pulling him into as tight a hug as he could allow himself to give, letting him cry out his grief and sorrow. He raged, screaming in despair and hatred. With his face turned away, no one knew what he said, but they could assume the worst.
Lucy turned her head away, which Natsu saw, causing him to pull her close, allowing her to cry against him, quietly, in sympathy. Erza stewed in her remorse and anger. Never had she ever felt such a protective instinct. She felt so frustrated at having no target to vent this anger towards. And so sad for all the suffering her friend had endured, that she could do so little for, other than to listen, and to hold on to those memories for him, as they'd all promised.
Wendy grew more concerned, but for other reasons. Now that his face was turned away, she was no longer focused on his words, having not needed to rely on Loke's interpretations. As she gave a quick, cursory inspection of his physical state, a habit she'd developed throughout her studies in medicine, and just to give herself something else to focus on, other than the heartache she was feeling, she turned her attention towards his heart. She could hear it pounding far too quickly for her liking.
She rose to approach, drawing everyone's attention. Lyon stepped out of her way, so she could crouch down by Gray's side. Quietly calling his name, she took his hand, intending to try to calm him down. She was surprised by the strength in which he returned her hold. He breathed a deep sigh before pulling away from Loke, directing his gaze just a little off to the side of her face. His eyes were dull and red, his breaths coming in barely controlled shudders.
"Gray-san?"
His gaze refocused, following the sound of her voice. He seemed a curious mixture of indecision and yearning.
"Gray?" she repeated.
…
…
" ... Can you really do it?"
Her eyes widened. Did he mean ...?
"Can you … I …," he closed his eyes, taking another deep, shuddering breath, "I want to … If you can … I … I need …"
She gently squeezed his hand, smiling at his tentative hope, tinged with a little fear, and replied. For her, this wasn't a question of whether she could or not.
"I will."
I don't know about you, but I need a break from the angst.
I have a Tumblr account. I'm still trying to figure it out. I can't even remember how I posted my first story there. Hopefully I'll find time to figure it out soon. I'm telling you this because I discovered the Tumblr event, Flufftober. It's a list of fluff prompts for each day of the month of October, and looking at the list, I thought it would be insanely fun and cute to write some one shots that tied into this story. The rules said I could focus on BroTP instead of romance. So expect a one shot collection during the month of October featuring Gray and Joy, with a little bit of Asuka and the team peppered in for flavor.
Next chapter: The Saints have a council.