That was indeed Gray's voice they'd heard. It was barely above a whisper, hoarse and raspy. Distorted and weak from lack of use, and from the tearing and bruising of his vocal chords that had yet to properly heal. But they'd healed enough for him to eek out a sound.

Mika wasn't nearly as aware as the others were, of how significant and wonderful an accomplishment that was for him, but she knew enough to understand the miraculous breakthrough she'd just witnessed and helped bring forth. She sniffed as she released a short laugh, choked with a sob, and Gray felt her nod her head in answer.

She felt his hand shake, and as he tried to pull it away, suddenly ashamed and self conscious at its disfigurement, she reached up to grasp it firmly. Holding it gently, she turned it face up and felt along the scars on that side, before allowing him to timidly close his fingers around her own. She brought his hand back up to her face, laying a tender kiss on a still bruised knuckle, bringing her other hand up to softly rub small circles along his loosely closed fist.

She grinned sadly, yet proudly, as she said, "You have your father's hands."

The affection and tenderness he could now perceive in her voice, the softness of her words, the gentleness of her touch, the warmth he was feeling now, were too much to bear as his walls came crashing down. His lips trembled, then his breath hitched in held back whimpers as he became overwhelmed with so many conflicting emotions.

He pulled his hand away, bringing both up to cover his face, shaking his head in denial? Sadness? Uncertainty? He harshly rubbed his eyes, closing them tightly as he combed through his hair, gripping at his head as he tried to understand what he was actually feeling, whether happy or sad, relieved, angry, or everything in between, or none at all.

He wanted to say something. He wanted to say everything. To share with her a lifetime of stories and sorrows, of regrets and victories, of his proudest moments and his deepest shames. But the only thing he could get out, his voice no more than a raspy croak, was—

"I'm sorry!"

With those two words came a torrent of grief he could no longer hold in. Every word, interspersed with heaving sobs, had to be forced through his still pained throat, and even the dragon slayers had to struggle to capture every one. But Mika was right there. And just as she'd received every bit of disdain and malevolence her son had held on to for far too long, she gladly accepted everything he so needed to share with her now, for as long as she could.

"I nev… er meant to lose y… I didn't… didn't know!... Didn't want to!... I'm sorry.. failed to hold on… I tried!... It got so hard… and I di..n't realize… bef…ore I knew… you were gone!... I was too weak… to keep you… t… weak… to… I… nev...r… wanted t… to be a... bad son—"

"—NO! You're NOT a bad son. You're NOT! And you never were! You are, and always have been, a loving, compassionate child. You were always so caring, and kind to everyone you met. You were a joy to be around, and your father and I always spoke about how blessed we were to have such a brave and generous son. You were so happy, and your smiles were infectious. You were a good son. And you still are!"

He tried to protest, something within making him unable to believe all these praises were truly for him. With barely a discernible shake of his head, he could hardly get the words "I don't deserve" out of his mouth when he was shocked into silence by her hand gingerly touching his cheek. Pulling every last dregs of what little control he had left, he held himself stiffly, teeth gritted, as he felt her thumb his tears away.

He was caught off guard when she moved that hand to the back of his neck, at the same time bringing her other hand to his shoulder. Before he could comprehend what was happening, she gently pulled his head down to rest it against her heart. He brought both his hands up, laying them on her arms, and shakily made a weak attempt at resistance—

"You deserve to be loved, and protected, and cherished. You deserve to feel safe, and to have people care about you, to want to be with you, and to worry about how you feel. You are a wonderful man, and I can tell from how all these people so obviously care about you, that they feel the same way. They were willing to go so far to make this night happen, because they value you so much. And so do we, your father and I. You are perfect just the way you are, and we wouldn't have you any other way. We love you so much. You are our precious little boy. Our good son."

Those arms which had so little strength to push her away have found new vigor, as he now wrapped them around his mom, and held on as if he'd never let go. Because he'd heard no dark undertones in what she'd said. He felt no fear, no doubt in her sincerity. But most of all, to his great astonishment and joy and relief, he believed her words.

He believed her.

And though quiet and strained, if everyone stood still and really listened, even over the noise of the winds, they could hear his anguished cries. And even as most if not all of them cried along with him, some in sadness, others in sympathy; they also cried in relief and gratitude. Not just for the return of his voice, though some of them were happy to hear every sound he made, regardless of the heavy emotions they conveyed. No, his friends were celebrating what they knew to be his breakthrough.

Mika smiled as she held her son close, combing her fingers through his hair and murmuring soft assurances of her love for him, and of her promise to always watch over him. It wasn't enough, as he desperately pleaded for her to stay, to not leave him again; but it would have to be.

"You know I can't stay, but I'm not leaving you alone. I'm so grateful that you've made so many wonderful friends. I could never repay them for all they've done, and I'm happy that they love you so much. I'm so relieved that I can finally rest, that I can rejoin your father, knowing I'm leaving you in such good hands. I know they'll continue to care for you, just as I know you'll care for them with everything you have."

His grip around her only tightened as he shook his head, knowing his refusal to let her go was in vain. His crying slowly settled down, and he was able to take in deep, steadying breaths, trying to keep more sobs at bay. He didn't want his last words to her to be garbled in choked sadness. He loosened his grip, pulling away, feeling as his mom reluctantly tried to pull her hand from his head. As her fingertips brushed against his cheek, he reached up to hold her hand there, almost nuzzling it, closing his eyes in a deep sigh. He knew time was almost out. But… could he have this? Just a little longer?

He had managed to work up the will to speak once more, to finally say his goodbyes, when he startled and gasped at the unexpected sensation of a soft, warm, and very tiny head rubbing against his thigh, followed by a familiar purr.

"Happy?!" Carla hissed quietly.

"I'm sorry! She wouldn't stop squirming, and she got away from me!" he whispered back.

Whatever they'd been expecting from that sudden intrusion, they were able to relax when Gray merely smiled, releasing his mother's hand to reach down, picking his precious little fur baby up to cradle her in his arms. Her sudden appearance eased tension he'd still been feeling, and Mika noticed right away the change in his demeanor. She smiled indulgently.

"And who is this little one?"

She was pleased when he grinned back proudly, replying, "I found her… Brought… her home… Named her Joy… my lit… little Joy."

Her smile broadened as she observed, "I'm glad to see another thing hasn't changed. You're still bringing strays home."

He couldn't help it. She wasn't even trying to be funny, just sharing one of the many things she loved about him. But that was what mattered, wasn't it? The thought alone warmed his heart, making it lighter.

He laughed. It still had that hissing quality to it, but there was definitely a sound now. It was tinged with a bit of melancholy, but there was a bit of cheer present, too. A bit of comfort, and relief. Because he had been able to recognize that love. He knew it, because he felt it too.

What an ease to his soul it was, to have that confirmation. To know without a doubt that his love was still so strong, and that it was no longer painful to entertain that feeling.

He heard her sniffle, and looked up in concern.

"Mom?"

"I'm okay… It's just that… my deepest regret from that day, when we… lost each other… I remember, I was so sad that I'd never know my son as a grown man. And when I was brought here, and learned you couldn't speak, I hadn't had time to think about what that meant to me. Just now, I was realizing that I could have left you again, never knowing what you sounded like now. I'm just… so thankful that I got to hear your voice. I could watch you smile and laugh. I got to meet my baby boy, all grown up. I couldn't be any happier than I am right now," she replied, though he could tell she was holding back tears as she spoke.

There was an abrupt shift in the winds. They were starting to die down. They'd run out of time.

With great sadness and regret, she told him, "I have to go."

Panic renewed, he released Joy and reached out for her, moving frantically as if newly blind, afraid she'd already gone. She caught his hands, wrapping her fingers around his own, shushing him and calming him down.

"Shhhh. It's going to be okay. I promise. You're going to be okay. So long as you remember me, I'll always be with you. And your friends are here, and they love you so much. You're not alone."

Gray could feel the magic ebbing away. He knew he had only seconds. But he couldn't let her go until he'd said one final thing. He couldn't allow her to leave him again, not after everything he'd said to her in anger and hate, without making sure she knew how he truly felt.

"I love you!"

He could hear the smile in her voice when she answered, "I love you too, my precious Gray. I always have, and I always will." With those final words, she freed one of her hands to reach up once more, bringing his head down, and placed a soft, gentle kiss upon his brow. It was so faint, barely a whisper of a touch, but he could still feel it as she finally disappeared.

The room was plunged into near darkness as the light from the magic circle faded with the release of the Milky Way spell. The winds grew quiet, and were soon no more. The only source of light now were the dimmed lights from above, and those still emitted from the numerous souls that Bickslow had at last allowed to roam free. He knew that with Wendy's spell no longer active, they would be drawn back to the various pieces of their original bodies. All of them, except for Gray's mom, whose soul would now be complete upon receiving the last vestiges that had still been clinging to that relic. She was free.

While Porlyusica and Mira saw to his injured hands, Erza, Cana, and Carla went to Wendy, who was worn out but also felt the invigoration that came with success. They'd done it! She'd heard everything, and though she still felt aggrieved at all the pain Gray had just gone through, she also knew without a doubt that, ultimately, they'd done the right thing. It may have started out as a disaster, but she knew the results will have been worth all the heartache in the end.

Though seeing him now, one could be forgiven for allowing some doubts to brew. He still kneeled there, hunched over; and with the winds gone, it was now easy to hear each shuddered gasp that he couldn't hold back. Wendy rose tiredly, wanting to check him over, but Lyon waved her down, Gesturing for her to take a break and rest. She'd earned it. Nodding her ascent, she gladly sat in a chair Cana had brought over, nodding to Carla's concerned gaze that she was okay.

The silence in the guildhall was so eerie compared to how it was just moments ago. Though relieved that they were finally hearing Gray's voice again, Natsu and Lucy could only wish it wasn't in the form of such sad, restrained whimpers. Natsu especially wished Gray would either calm down and regain his composure, or stop trying to contain his grief and let it all out. Either would be preferred over his struggle to fight against this turmoil. Both of them approached, but paused a few meters away, waiting to see what was needed from them.

Lyon crouched before him, Loke just off to the side. He cleared his throat, noting that Gray hadn't jerked at the sudden sound, but canted his head towards it with ease. Good. He was fully aware. He wasn't trying to withdraw. But the look he was giving was devastating to behold. Such sadness didn't belong on anyone's face, and Gray's had held far more than its fair share. Calmly, Lyon asked, "Gray, are you okay?"

That question must have been all that was needed to break whatever fragile hold he'd been trying to maintain. He peered red rimmed eyes towards where he'd heard Lyon's voice, taking a few shuddering breaths peppered with mournful half sobs. Before he could shake his head no, Lyon very swiftly but gently pulled him into a tight embrace. He didn't struggle against him, but grabbed onto his shirt, burying his face into his neck, and cried out keening wails and bitter sobs. Those cries were interrupted often by familiar bouts of hissing silence, as his still raw throat labored after so long.

Natsu kneeled next to them, threw his arm over his shoulder, and reached his other hand to take one of Gray's, giving him that assurity and comfort that physical contact would bring. He spoke words of support, reminding him that his friends were all still there, that they weren't going anywhere. Lucy, not yet sure if Gray's comfort level around women had changed, and unwilling to risk finding out, approached Loke instead. She shared a tearful smile with her spirit friend, thanking him for all his help tonight. He returned her smile, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, offering her a comfort she'd just now realized she really needed after such a harrowing day.

The others stood by and watched, some crying for him, others shedding tears of gratitude. Erza was reminded of that first evening of his return to consciousness, when she could only stand helplessly as Gray screamed in agony against Lyon's shoulder. How she could do nothing but imagine such pain being inflicted upon his torturer; and how angry and sorry she'd felt, that such screams were being denied their vital purpose: To be heard, that others would be able to share in that pain. Strangely, a great heaviness was lifted from her heart at hearing those cries. It was so contradictory to what she thought she should feel, as one of her closest friends was suffering right before her. But she knew he needed this release. She was happy to hear those screams for him.

Wendy hugged Carla close, touched by all she'd heard, and sympathizing wholeheartedly. She'd had to force herself numerous times to keep all her concentration on the spell, refusing to allow stray thoughts of her time with Grandine to steal her attention away. But now that her mind was free to wander, she kept switching between concern for Gray, and guilt over her estrangement from Porlyusica. She'd held such animosity towards her the last couple of weeks, unable to understand how her mentor was willing to cause so much pain and anguish in her friend, all for the sake of "knowing what was best for him". Then she'd found herself in the same position, having devised this plan, formulated the means to carry it out, and planted that seed of hope in him; all of which had lead to her having to listen to the torment he'd gone through, and which she'd indirectly caused. Because in the end, he'd needed to go through this pain in order to heal.

Porlyusica looked up when she sensed eyes upon her, finding herself under the gaze of a curiously contrite looking Wendy. The young slayer saw she'd been caught staring at her, but instead of turning away in embarrassment, she gave a shy, sad smile, trying to convey as much remorse and desire for reconciliation as she could with the simple gaze. Taken aback by her sudden willingness to make amends, she nonetheless reacted in her usual way: She tsk'd at the needlessly guilty overture from her protege, seeing no reason for the young girl to apologize for having a tender heart. She'd still managed to prove to herself her willingness to make tough decisions for her patients. Still, as she turned back to her work, she saw no reason to reposition herself in order to hide the small, proud smile she wore for just a brief second.

Meanwhile, Freed had joined Laxus and Bickslow, watching as Porlyusica was finishing her treatment. After Wendy had time to recharge, she could do a more thorough healing. Until then, they tried to believe the old healer hadn't really been applying more pressure than was necessary to test whether Bickslow could still feel pain in his hands. Her barely audible admonition of, "Fools should suffer for their mistakes, lest they repeat them," wasn't helping, not that she cared. As Bickslow sat there on a stool, allowing Mira to wrap the last strand of bandages around one of his hands, he gave a small grin, which Freed saw. He hadn't missed that slight glow in his eyes either. It was just for a moment, but it was enough to make him seem satisfied over something.

"May I ask what you're smiling at?" he wondered.

Catching the attention of those around him, Bickslow's grin widened, and he nodded towards Gray, who at some point had been lowered to rest on his side, body still cradled within Lyon's arms as he laid in his lap. He was completely spent, eyes closed tightly as he still trembled, panting heavily between sniffles and quiet, sporadic sobs.

Bickslow replied, "It's still a jumbled mess… but his soul is finally starting to heal."

Mira and Laxus shared relieved smiles, and Mira pretended she hadn't seen those sympathetic tears Laxus had shed during Gray's and his mom's heartfelt goodbye. She went back to dressing Bickslow's hands, deciding she wouldn't clue him in on those tear tracks he still had on his face, either. Nothing wrong with letting one's friends see your soft side once in a while.

Back with the others, they'd all taken crouching or sitting positions around Lyon and Gray, not too close, but close enough for him to know they were there if he needed them. His breathing had slowed, though it still came faster than normal. He'd stopped trembling, and seemed to sag in Lyon's arms. The grip he had on one of those arms tightened just a bit, before relaxing again, drawing Lyon's attention.

"Gray?" he asked quietly.

Gray's eyes fluttered open, still red and bleary. His lips moved a little, and he had to clear his throat before he continued; but with as much feeling and gratitude he could muster, he said in almost a sigh, "Thank you."

Everyone smiled. To them, those two little words were for more than what they'd accomplished here tonight. They knew and understood them to be for everything they'd done, everything they'd gone through for him, since the day he was taken from them. And though unnecessary, they knew it meant everything to him that his first spoken words to them since that day would be to convey his most sincere gratitude.

Very soon, Porlyusica would want to check him over, and likely have him moved to the infirmary. Until then, they took this time to reflect on all that had happened. Cana bumped shoulders with Loke, smirking good naturedly and nodding a 'job well done' to him as he grinned back, clasping her hand briefly as if to say 'you too'. Levy wiped her eyes and smiled at Lucy, who returned it as she joined Natsu to kneel next to Gray, soon joined by Erza.

And Natsu grinned softly, reaching a hand to Gray's shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze as he softly answered for all of them.

"You're welcome."

Next Chapter: Conclusions are reached, and Gray can finally begin to heal.